Word Count » 3+
He could feel her gaze, heavy with blood and the deep rose swells that he found to attractive, burning a path between his shoulder blades and across his spine. Involuntarily, the lean muscles there twitched, as though unable to be still underneath such scrutiny. But the sound of her voice was quick to break such stillness, and the thistle King's elegant ears flicked backward to catch that saucy accent. Black lip twitched as if to snarl or smile, but it was unseen to the Eterne woman. Again, her tones caressed him, teasing ruthlessly as though to provoke aggression or dominance. Although the seated man's acidic gaze did not lift to her, his taught frame, lanky but lean muscles stiffened. Short hackles quivered slightly. "You will do it for me because I command it, Tlantli," His voice slithered out into the air, tainted with a dangerous darkness that showed his restraint and patience for her teasings were waning. Already, there was a familiar lusting ache within him for the woman, but fastidious in his control the Boss would not allow it to be revealed. "I worry little for any advantages you seek to take. Remember who it is you speak with."
Because he disliked the stern tone to his own voice, the male shrugged once to loosen the building tension in his shoulders. Still somewhat battle-weary, they had begun to ache. Briefly, the man thought of a certain luxury he had yet to acquire - In London, in the particularly civil areas, they had had peculiar items known as bath-tubs, in which they had poured water heated over flames. It had been soothing indeed to sit in such a thing, and as soon as he was able to take more time for self-indulgence, he would have the slaves find a suitable replica.
Her latter words seemed to have been ignored, but in spite of his slightly snippy attitude, Tlantli still held an undeniably favored spot in the mind of the Hunter. "You will see soon enough." Although not sharp, his tone signaled that she would have to be patient, and that any further questions would be ignored. The second paw had been severed, and now, finally, acidic eyes returned to heatedly grace her flesh once more, awaiting instruction such that the Crone might perform the duty he demanded of her.
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