03-04-2017, 11:52 PM
He is standing there, staring at her in the face. A dry, dusty wind blows past him and it blows up the hair round her, making her appear wild and sensuous. Even though she had never been touched by a man—none except him, that is.
Her eyes are flaring with anger and she doesn’t bother to say hello, or extend pleasantries. Only just what he intended to do with the young wolfpup and what it had to do with him… and her. And as always, Deimos cannot help himself in her presence. He laughs again. Low, guttural tones this time, from the deep pit of his belly. He says nothing, but instead works his way around her, stroking the line of her thighs with his nose, pressing the weight of him up her body, working the hollows there in a way that would make her tremble. In a way that would make her wet. Not an innocent little nun, are you—dirty little girl. Likes the dirty men she does.
He nips her, and then laughs again, his mind combing through hers with a strong gloved grasp, going through the memories there. So she had not stayed put as he had requested. But yet, she has come back. Looking for him?
“Miss me, did you, sex kitten?” He says by way of greeting, before sending her pretty little mind raunchy images of her beneath him, squealing and wincing with the weight of him. What would she cry in the middle of the night? What would a daughter of the Devil do in bed with a Demon? She’d certainly blow his sheets all in the right places.
He looked forward to that memory, indeed.
And so, he presses a throaty kiss, to drive the little wonton just a little crazy before he pulls away from her body to examine his handiwork his voice gravely and deep, eyes burning. But she has asked a question, and he is honest. “I intend to start a war.”
His nostrils flare, before he speaks again, eyes leveling her, sending more raunchy images directly to her mind, wondering how much talk of politics she could stand before they could change the subject. Innocents are such liars. If they could be honest about their sexual desire and give into themselves, life could be so much more fun.
“The boy is a telekinetic named Kilter, and the mute is Rocinante. If you are going to create your own band of merry men, at least learn their proper names. Kilter has something that I want… and a way to get it. His use is coming. But if you think I have any intention of hurting him…” his eyes were very serious now…
“He is the tool. But I will not lay a finger on him. I can swear you that.”
He smiles darkly, stepping closer to her form. What would she do if he touched her again.
Would she tremble… Would she scream.
He hoped she’d scream for him.
Politics is so boring.
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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