Sun Mote Copse Something happens and I'm head over heels

the woman didn't know what she wanted; first she had played his little diversion, and then she came after him. now she spurned asmodeus with the impressive glory of her teeth.  if she wanted to leave, she could. he was many things, but a rapist was not one of them.

but she stayed, and in the angry bluster of her nectar stare, asmodeus fancied that he saw a glint of something more, a gesture that appealed to his primal nature as available suitor.

again he stepped toward her; this time his plume described a proud colorless arc against the sky, and his legs were stiff with the gauntlet she had thrown. ears thrust forward, muzzle tucked to throat, asmodeus silently tested her boundaries with a quiet lift of his lip and another short approach.

he could earn her, but it was still a game. certainly the golden woman knew that. the difference was that it was not only a game.