383!
If it weren't for that shadow cast over this wolf's soul, it was highly unlikely Eris would have even taken notice of him—certainly she would have reacted differently, perhaps recoiling in horror or fear when he struck her. Instead, there was nothing but fascination in the sable-furred canine for this man. She would tolerate whatever he threw at her voluntarily; she was his to do with as he pleased, whether that was to discard her like trash or keep her like treasure. The question was, was she even worthy of such attentions? Normally, a narcissistic personality such as herself would have said yes, absolutely. Now, pressed between a body killed what couldn't have been more than an hour ago and the much larger form of the demon who'd done her in, the sable-furred Infernian could not say the same.
His tongue swept the remainder of the blood from her muzzle, and his claws were at her skin now, drawing steadily over her flesh and leaving winding ribbons of red behind, blood beading up from beneath the skin to the surface. Sparks of pain followed his claw and she arched her back into that pain, lifting her body into his touch. Her fingers twined into the thick fur on his leg and took ahold of him, though she certainly was not bold enough to so much as tug on his fur, let alone draw his blood in return, but she heard both the low growl and the approval in it. His teeth suddenly seized her neck, and the shadow-colored hybrid cried out, pleasure and pain both mixed into her voice. Her body writhed beneath his now, quivering beneath him. Her hand drew up onto his waist, gripping at his hip as his tongue lapped against her neck, her fingers clutching at his flesh.
His tongue traced expertly over the wounds his claws had split into her skin, and her body followed with it, arching upward toward his touch, yearning for him to take it further. Pleasure and pain both mingled together through the sable hybrid's body, driving her to squirm and writhe beneath him. Soft moans mingled with low growls, and her heart pounded, and she wondered if this was simply the prelude to violence—was she lucky, honored enough to receive him?
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