Emberwood [m] Lynchpin

praimfaya's heart beat flutters beneath her breast; not like a war drum but like the excited, rapid thrum of a hummingbird's wings. though she draws connections to how her skin is alight and her mood is buoyed — giddy almost — to how she feels in battle there is enough newness to this feeling in the presence of a stranger who sets her skin afire and an ache to settle in her stomach with his proximity, with the touch of his chest against her's and the comb of his teeth through the fur behind her ear.

his build and scars alone tell her that he is strong; worthy of siring the next line of commander hopefuls.

the fire and hunger within her continues to grow and she shifts then; slightly, after offering an inviting nip to his jaw so that her shoulder is against his chest, her tail shifting to the side where she holds it. the need to regain some control of the situation ( which as long spiraled out of her control since the moment she was lured towards him by the scents ) drives her to let out a low whine:

an invitation, a plea, a trembling command.