Godmoding, with permission! :O
Indeed his words had been nothing but innocent, but with Halo's reaction he still felt no doubt, no regret in having admitted them. It was as if a curse ran through their blood, a genetic tendency for distemper that summarized the Lykoi family as one, with exceptions few and far between. She shrieked and lashed out at him, throwing confused fists at his chest; though he was alarmed at the sudden onslaught, the possibility of a violent reaction was not unheard of in the prince's mind. He had come to know the typical Lykoi well, and the coyote slept with his chiseled bone weapons at the ready each night.
In the eruption, her fists pounded only briefly at his thin, fragile chest—enough to knock the wind out of him, if nothing else—before the coyote seized her wrists and ceased the onslaught. He climbed to his feet, a stern look in his straw eyes, and the coyote pushed her backward. The prince, towering over her, fisted his hands at his sides and glared. "Perhaps you should go now, Halo," the Lykoi growled.
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