What an interesting statement, I don’t die. Draco watches Morgayne with those clever, piercing eyes. His head doesn’t tilt like it so often does but dark curiosity is apparent in his gaze. Even immortals die. Who was she to claim death does not come for her? And now he wonders, glittering eyes full of salacious violence, if he could bring death to her body in ways she would never heal from. He was clearly more powerful than he ever dreamed of being, after all. His arrogance doesn’t doubt that he is more powerful than she.
It’s that slithering, sickening curiosity that keeps Draco from lashing out at her immediately. Though he wants to, thirsts to—his tongue even daring to grow slick with watering—he remains still, calm. Ruminating on the words she chooses next and the proximity of her saccharine pink skin. “Hmm,” the demon hums to himself, as he is wont to do when no words will bring forth the full weight of what he is thinking.
Towering nearly a full three hands over her, Draco peers down his nose at Morgayne. The taut tilt of her ears and the insolent brightness of her eyes stirs that killing, sensual instinct in his gut. He hums again, drawing his ears down into his mane and baring his sharp teeth to press against her forehead.
“Then get to know me, Morgayne,” Draco whispers, the ghost of a shark’s smile curling his lips. His words are laced with a violent undercurrent, a warning that he thinks she is playing games more dangerous than she has ever imagined.
“I want to hurt you,” the demon states plainly, taking a step back. “But I won’t, for you are more fascinating alive than dead.” He cocks his head now, insinuating that her healing magic will not withstand his strength.
“Bite me,” Draco urges suddenly, lifting his neck as an offering. “Try to take my throat out with those pretty fangs of yours, then heal me. There’s no better way to get to know someone.” He smiles now, wide and discomforting. A delicious, excited purr rumbles in the back of his throat.
@Morgayne
