Otter Creek You would have to be half mad to dream me up

No. His face was so close to hers that his breath stirred her whiskers. It stirred his blood, too. It was all he could do to quell the urge to comb his teeth through the longer hairs on her cheek. Jawahir had not inspired this response in him; some of the feelings were the same, that bright zing of boyish lust in his veins, but there had also been a violent impulse with the coyote. He had wanted to grab her by the neck and throttle her just as badly. With Arielle, there was none of that.

Maybe that was why he didn't entirely recognize what he was feeling, confusing his affection for a friend with what his time in Akashingo had awakened. He did not want to nap. He wanted to take Arielle outside and pull her against him and bury himself in her fur and her scent. He respected her too much to even hint at it.

No nap, then. They had to pass the time somehow. The longer Aventus was pressed up against her, the less control he had. His muzzle had already drifted closer. He pulled it back a little, swallowed audibly, then said, truth or dare?