Firefly Glen [m]eet me in the woods tonight

rolled a successful dodge, so we'll call it the nape!

The other, of course, struck back. He felt fangs close against his nape and roared, twisting, trying to send the infernal shadow to the side. Once he'd successfully—hopefully—dislodged the other, he'd crouch low and then he'd. . .

Fuck. What next?

Did he care so much about this one woman?

His nostrils flared and filled with her heat-scent and he decided, yes, yes he did care enough. He surged forward, if possible, to attack the other's ribs; to strike between foreleg and belly and pummel the flesh there, teeth bared.