Roryn held his tongue, watching the rise and fall of her flanks, warm breath blowing from ebony lips. ”Ill?” He snorted, muzzle creasing with a twitch of a nose. “Never felt better.” The male chuckles through a tensed jaw, feigning a polite, practiced grin.
No, I feel as if I’ve been buried for centuries. Roryn winced, a creak of branches leaving him unsettled. Whatever might he had possessed in his previous life had retreated, replaced by a facade and aching bones. “Do all wolves around here fancy walking around at night, or is it just you and I?” He tested, watching the way her expression shifted with each breath. Calculating, preparing, should it decide to chew his ears off.