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

Her ears flicked at his voice. it is not gentle—no, blackfell never had been. she preferred it that way. there was a rasp to it now, buried beneath the stone of him, and it sank into her like claws.

gjalla’s body reacted before her pride could intervene. a shudder, full-bodied and betraying, rolled down her spine. her head lifted from where she’d pressed it into the bedding, then her body as she stood to meet him where he was. her cheek runs along his jaw, his throat. inhaling him.

"i was trying to ignore it," she remarked, humorous if not for her being serious. she smelled like sin—felt like it, too. blackfell didn’t move closer. he didn’t need to. he was a wall of dark fur and hot-red eyes. he was a promise—a threat. and worse—a comfort.

her body leaned toward him, tail flicking like an invitation. the den was too small for the space between them. her stomach twirled, butterflies swarming in her belly as his breath deepened, controlled—barely.

"you should’ve come sooner," her voice trembled somewhere between fury and desperation. her body betrayed her, shifting—tail sweeping aside as she turned slightly toward him, shameless. a tease, maybe, before she turned her gaze to his, sultry. "or maybe you like seeing me suffer."