Her voice chimed sweetly, a delicate dove-like coo that soothed the inner beast so ferociously bound by the chains of Sirius' self control. It was a relief, nonetheless, to hear such dainty melodies - After being surrounded by the sounds of horses and of Larkspur, who frequently made guttural horse-like sounds himself, it pleased the monarch to find himself once more within a place of civility. The two aspects balanced eachother out - While with his Arbiter, the feral nature that resided within the King of Thorns was released, and he could act as the Hunter would act. While with Clover, the facade of the gentleman, the noble, was replaced; Although an act, it was one he quite enjoyed.
She must have seen his winced, for in a flourish of gold the girl was at his side, her pure presence surrounding him with that familiar, delightful scent. Often, the Lykoi princess would meet his gaze - It was not something that he allowed from his subordinates, but for some reason, she was exempt from such a primal law. There was no challenge to be found within the lady's eyes of soft corn-gold, only that strange look of adoration that he had come to expect, and frequently desire. It fed his ego, that devoted look.
The gentle swell of her voice, light like the babbling song of a stream, caressed his weary ears. The monarch released a long-suffering sigh, one hand attempting to reach over his shoulder and gingerly rub at the knot that had formed there. "Calm yourself, dear girl. I am well enough. It is nothing more than an ache from hard work," The seductive caramel tenor of his voice turned grumbly at its end, his dark brows furrowing in irritation at the small waves of annoyance that radiated from the pained muscle in his shoulder. Her pretty songbird voice chirped forth again, offering assistance in the sweet manner only she provided. Narrowed pupils lifted to the girl, and for a moment, that deep and terrible hunger flashed through him. She was so pure, so perfect - Such a splendid specimen of femininity. Fragile in appearance, with all that beautiful golden hair. He teased himself with allowing her presence, tested his own resolve, and thus far, he had been strong enough to resist the temptation she provided. Worse still, the girl seemed completely unaware of her own allure, and the way she could heat his very blood with desire.
Is she pure enough to be a Queen? Her sister, Sage, had asked him some time ago if he had found such a woman yet. Disgruntled by such a serious train of thought, the Thistle King huffed gravely, shutting his simmering eyes a moment to block out the light and the beautiful sweeps of Clover's body.
Then, black lips lifted at the corners in a mirthless smile, as with a weary sigh, the monarch allowed his half-lidded gaze to find her again. "You have such nimble fingers. Perhaps you could ease this tension for me?" He gestured as he spoke to the tender area on his shoulder, and shifted sideways so that she might have access to the broad planes of his back. Between the man's two shoulderblades was his pack marking, the Hand of Eris, a deep and pale scar that the hair did not cover in optime form.
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