Stone Circle no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

ᚦ — he watches her, head tilting slightly, as if to better hear the snarl under her breath. the demand. the ache. his blood stirs.

his voice will be low, husked by want and restraint alike.

ek skal give you war. his chin lowers, jaw tensing. heat pours from his body in waves, misting against the cold.

ek skal strike you down, ef that er what you need. break you. hold you down and carve rage from you like bone from flesh.

he comes close—close enough for her to feel his breath across her muzzle, hot and laced in musk and mead. claim my blood.