mall-caps;letter-spacing:4px;">THE SPARK OF DAWNThoughts she had subjected herself to in the past came to the front of her mind, the touch of the Thistle King warm and demanding and tense but oh so desirable, made moreso by the sudden tangy metallic scent on the air. Her claws broke the flesh of the already printed inward arrows, blood pooling in the recessed flesh found there only to be smeared by padded golden hands. Were she in another place, another time, she might have laughed. As it was, she merely moaned, a pleased and wanting sound as her eyes caught sight of her bloodied fingers and her nose took in the full scent of the leader's potent blood. Whatever faint traces of desire had formed in the pit of her stomach spread to everything, inflamed by a bloodlust she was not unfamiliar with, primal in nature and a driving force for so many.
She met him without kindness, but not without passion, a golden creature long since prepared for this sort of hungry interaction. By nature, she was not a wanton woman. No, it was only in the presence of this strange Adonis, this Narcissus and his vainity, that she turned from composure to lust.
What little control remained in him was gone in her, and hungry arms urged him on, willing him to take her as she'd so long dreamed in the silent nights of her spiral-shaped home. Reason left her. There was no time for her thought.
<style>
.ns01 {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:none;background-image:none;background-position:top middle;background-repeat:no-repeat;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:times new roman, sans-serif;font-size:13px;line-height:16px;letter-spacing:.5px;text-align:justify;margin-top:15px;}
.ns01-ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;margin:2px; padding:0px;text-align:left;}
.ns01 p {text-indent:25px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;}
.ns01 b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;}
.ns01 i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;}
</style>
[/html]