Word Count » 3+
It seemed his words had curbed her for now - Perhaps not his silver tongue, but merely the hint of danger that bled from it, that exciting thrill of venom within sharp olive. For a moment, she was haughty; His gaze bore heavily into the Kimaris woman, hungrily, but with the strict steel control of the Hunter. Then finally she broke the contact, barking a calm order as deceptively slender fingers poured over his assortment of hunting knives and daggers. He resisted, waiting until cool palms urged against the tense muscles of his shoulders to do as she bid.
The bearskin was warm on his creamy stomach, and the thistle King crossed his arms before him, resting his head moodily on them. Large, elegant ears were dipped back to catch the sounds of her - A slight expression of surprise, and the deeper darkness of that resilient hunger, slid across features hidden to her by angle and the sweep of dark, unruly hair as the woman settled her meagre frame onto his lower back. It was decidedly close, this contact - Almost sensual, challenging the dormant beast within him. But Sirius was a cold, cunning creature, and the air of surprise and discomfort quickly faded to acceptance.
Cool, clawed fingertips trailed the muscles of his back and shoulders - They quivered to her touch, edgy like an untamed stallion. For a moment, he relaxed, the feel of her palms gently inspecting luring a false air of calm. Then, the knife-tip kissed hard skin, broke barrier and slid into the royal flesh beyond.
The pain was fast and burning, and his black lips pulled apart in a quick snarl, a sharp exhale hissing through the deadly yellowed teeth therein. But no words were given to the Crone to stop her, no action apart from this to show that he resented the feel of the blade as it carved into the space between his shoulderblades, again and again. After the first, the pain lessened, and a strange numbness settled over his reluctant form. The thistle King could feel a warm, sticky wetness seeping over the skin beneath his thick, handsome fur, and knew by the rusty scent that rose into the room that it was his own blood.
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