Duskfire Glacier [m] selfishly sealing your fate while you slept

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— he is not deaf to the way the den reeks of her, not blind to the wet trail of her scent that signals like a beacon. it calls to him. burns in the back of his throat, thick and raw. and he’s kept his distance long enough. restraint. for the same damned self-control that had always been his virtue.

he tells himself it would not be right. and he curses whatever the season has brought for damning this upon them now. it would not be right to take her heat. not after... and yet it was nauseating.

now?

blackfell is nothing if not thorough.

gjalla, he calls to her down the narrowness of the cave path. his inky frame appearing from the shadows. he enters slowly, body broad and hulking in the dim light. crimson eyes cut through the dark, locking on her curled shape—she flicks her tail, her sides twitch with tension.

she looks feral like this. undone. a queen brought to a precipice. with one more step, he’s close enough to breathe her in fully, to let it coil in his gut like fire. you should have called.