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The man patiently refutes the corrections, then introduces himself. Vermouth shifts his weight, incidentally crushing a few of the wildflowers at his feet. Their fragrance fills his nose as Odessia nitpicks Etienne’s words a second time, then primly queries about his pack.

Vermouth’s head rears back ever so slightly. Why does she want to know about his pack? He doesn’t deign to question her outwardly, though a realization slowly clicks into place. Does she mean to join them? He balks at the thought, a fire licking to life in his belly.

His pale, narrowed eyes pan from Odessia’s beautiful face to Etienne’s. The man looks miserable, he notes again. He looked that way even before Odessia began rudely correcting his speech. Vermouth errantly thinks, I could put him out of his misery…

His eyes drop to the ground as he thinks for a moment. Fuck these flowers. Vermouth suddenly has a much better idea to prove his merit and officially win over Odessia. His eyes flick up to Etienne, assessing him for a moment, keeping his expression bland to avoid giving him any kind of warning.

Channeling his latest nickname, he lunges for Etienne’s neck. Vermouth has no doubt he can overpower the ailing male, establish his dominance and take this territory by force. If Odessia wants a pack, she’ll get a pack. He just hopes the kvit woman enjoys the show.

Permission to power-play granted!