The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

Roll here!

Donovan seems to have made a mistake when he touches a wet nose to his shoulder and his juniper hues are shooting open in alarm to the touch. He’s gnashing and snapping vicious teeth in his direction and Donovan is just hardly able to slip away fast enough to not get eaten. The smaller even aims for his throat and manages to pull out a small tuft of pale fur in his wake. 

“The fuck?” Is all he can growl out. 

He’s backing up and his brows crinkle as they furrow. Irritation is prickling down his spine, but can he really blame him? If he’s seen a PTSD related flashback (which he has), then this has to be one. He even had them when he was younger and actually had an uncorrupt moral compass. Thankfully, now he doesn’t give a fuck enough to care about anything. Perhaps the only exception being his packs death.

Still the smaller’s violent thrashing and the careless way he’s throwing his teeth about piss Donovan off. He knows the only way to get him to come back is to drive him back to reality, though with what he has planned, he doesn’t know if it will make it worse or better. Oh well, might as well try.

So try he does. Making his movements quick and efficient, he steps forward and channels his body weight into a large paw to push him over. Wasting no time in getting on top on him and caging him in with massive forearms. His lip is vaguely wrinkled by the effort it takes and circular brows continue to be furrowed. Dangerous golden orbs star down at him in warning.

“Wake the hell up.” He says loud enough for his voice to penetrate through the hum of the rain. “You keep tryna bite me you little shit.” Is his only reply. “I’m not whoever you think I am.” True Donovan  might not be who the male thinks he is, but there is a possibility he’s just as bad.