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The lighter male’s sudden sneer determined what would happen next. And his words did not need to be spoken for the male to understand the implication. However, what Corvus had not expected was for the manner in which the thing claimed to have known her. And when the thing spoke, a black ear flickered as if to brush away a buzzing insect. Something within him clicked then, or perhaps it was something that slid off the shelf. Whatever it was, it fell and created a ripple as it was swallowed by the black, unmoving waters of his soul. But that single ripple would be the precursor to the tsunami. It was only the manner in which it fell that was left unknown. The black eyes were alight suddenly with that black flame, the fathomless depths filled with that sinister leer. And the crow wolf’s almost effeminate face was contorted, its beauty destroyed, as the cruel maw split open in a cold, mirthless cachinnation that held the hint of the psychopath’s eccentricity. “You,” he sneered, the tenor voice nearly inaudible as abruptly the laughter died and the emotionless facet was replaced. Suddenly, as the waters, his entirety was still, as if a dark cloud had shrouded his mind.
There was something within the male that was beyond anger, that transcended that red emotion and was black. For his purposes, she had needed to know no other male, and he had let her know that her loins had belonged to him. But she had slipped away, and like the fool that the bitch Graine was, she had believed herself something else. But Cwmfen, it seemed, had thought herself safe. It was a dangerous thing for her to think. That sneer tugged at the corners of those black lips but fell short of their goal. There would be other ways.... The crows would let him know. The ravens too. But this male—how he did dare. The mind of the brute was filled with that empty sound of laughter, a mocking sound. Perhaps he did not know. And yet, the Korean could see what Cwmfen might have seen; it would make the taking easier.
The cruel jaws of the crow wolf parted, the whites of those bones hungering behind his lips. “She will taste the same,” that empty tenor sneered, and it seemed that his sadistic pleasures dripped from his words. “My body will wash her of you.” It was spoken as a vow, with a certainty that seemed to transcend mortality as if it were Fated. And then the empty souled creature laughed again, that hollow sound echoing in his chest cavity as if confirming it. The abyssal eyes, narrow and unblinking, turned back upon the other. The Korean seemed to draw him in as the black and white hackles rose. The black tail waved behind him, erected in open challenge. He challenged the thing to stop him, to put an end to him. And he would not stop. He would persevere until he had taken what was his.