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 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
She follows his touch like a magnet, demanding nearness even when he might have put distance between the. It does nothing to dim the banked fire of his hunger, and nor does the way he reaches out to her as she wades past him, running the sharp points of his canine teeth harmlessly along her piebald back. The kelpie does not follow her right away, and instead watches her path out into the darker water with no attempt to hide the hunger in his gaze. Her admission that she has been his all along brings a smile to his face, though small laugh that follows is equal parts satisfaction and amusement. “So you say,” Ivar replies as he joins her in the deeper water. Kylin has always been in touch with her emotions in a way that baffles the grey and white kelpie. He does not care much for emotions, or for any sort of possession that is not physical. Intangible declarations, useless sayings like ‘you have my heart’; they’ve always seemed meaningless. What use might a kelpie have for a heart after all, save perhaps as a filling meal? “Don’t forget me again,” says the kelpie, pressing his chest against her left shoulder as he wraps his neck over her. The lapping of the waves disguises her heartbeat, but ivar traces the line of her throat with his pale lips and feels it beating there. The slope of her neck is sleep and unscarred, a marked contrast to Isobell, who he has marked so thoroughly that she will never forget him. Ivar is rather sure she’ll protest, claim that she had never forgotten him. And while she might feel that to be true, the same is not so for the tobiano stallion. If she hadn’t forgotten, there wold be no child in her belly, no slim chance that another might reasonably claim possession of her. No, she is his now. Perhaps she had not been before, but the kelpie wants to make sure she knows it. It would be easier, if he had not made that promise those years ago. It would be simpler to simply force the knowledge into her subconscious mind. Ivar is accustomed to that method, the hypnosis had yet to fail him. It had brought him the princess of Nerine, after all, and had drawn in the queens of Sylva and Loess. Why would it not work on a titleless mare in Ischia? Because he had promised, he remembers. No magic for this then, at least not the supernatural sort. Ivar has always been very gentle with Kylin. He teases her now and again, but he has never given her a reason to fear him. That is not his intention now, even as he bends his head and genelt closes the sharp points of his teeth below her jaw. Ripping her throat out would be easy, he knows from experience - it would not be the first time he has done this. It would be nearly painless, and she could slip into the sea and pour crimson into the black sea around them. “Mine,” he says again, the words hot against her throat as he replaces his teeth with a press of his lips. Ivar had meant only to quicken Kylin’s heartbeat, to plant the seeds of desire that will wipe the memory of Klaudius from her memory. Instead, he feels it rising in his own chest, the wordless echoing of the proclamation: (mine) in my dark times, baby this is all i could be |