Ravensblood Forest dates penned in red ink

Catamaran agreed, privately, but endured the feeling of her eyes raking over him. He did not mind being objectified in the least, but there was a certain amount of risk in being eyed like a piece of meat.

For example: what if the stranger was hungry?

"I'm only passing through," he replied, creeping forward once more. Not quite respectfully — in a way that searched rather transparently for boundaries, so that he might know where next to push. "And you?" he asked her.