No you really haven't lived life yet
#11
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WC:373 // Baww, poor Ruri! Silly men need to get over themselves!


Jacquez snorted, staring down his long muzzle at Heath. Bad example, was he? A hypocrite? "At least I am honest in what I do," he sneered, lips curled back to bare his fangs. "If it is 'not like that', then what, Heath, what is it like? Veux-tu que sa revendication est ta conjointe et de ne jamais la toucher?
Jures à l'abstinence jusqu'à ce que la pression est trop grande, puis lui briser le coeur en trichant?
Ou casser votre vœu stupide même, et prendre sa juste?"
His mind kept switching languages on him; he was too upset to even care with tongue he spoke in. He spat to one side, still glowering at his packmate. No thought for the future, not a care for what his actions were bringing about! He couldn't banish him for a confession of love; no ruler could be that cold-hearted. But something had to give here; and neither of them were stupid, neither of them willing to back down.


In the charged silence that followed, Jac's ears pricked forward, hearing the soft sobbing from behind Heath's protective stance. Ruri was crying. He caught his breath in a hiss, fur bristling upright all along his spine. "Out of my way," he snapped in a low voice, intending to move to Ruri's side. She had been crying too often these days, she deserved better treatment. But thanks to this mess, how could there be a happy ending for her? Like polarized magnets, the two men could not be near each other now, which would force her to make a choice. But if she chose romance over family, would she still want to live in this pack?


At this moment, rigid with emotion, the king wanted nothing more than to brawl with the hybrid, to beat their differences into a bloody pulp. It would probably help relieve the tension, too, except Ruri might never speak to either of them again. This was all Heath's fault for moving in and usurping her attention. Fathomless black eyes met stung, defensive gold; daring him to stand between them for a moment more. His white fist was balled at the ready, mirroring its black-gloved counterpart. He would not hesitate to strike for disobedience.

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