[mature] tell that devil to take you back; ryatah

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

Why would she risk something like that for him? Why would anyone? He’s not sure that Twinge had ever put her own skin on the line for him. When it came down to it, he was the one who had abandoned the Chamber to stand by her side when her kingdom flooded. He had been the one to feel the kingdom grip his chest and take his life away. But had she ever done the same for him? Would she have?

The questions leave him reeling—and, in turn, frustrated, furious, and unsure about what to do next.

It doesn’t help that she looks flustered.

He shakes his heavy-jawed head, trying to clear it enough to at least think around the situation. It was so much easier when it was just him and he could control his own life—when it didn’t matter what other people thought or cared about him. He didn’t have to pretend to care and he didn’t care if they cared about him. But this? This was different and this was difficult to swallow, difficult to comprehend.

So, for the first time in maybe forever, he keeps his mouth shut because he has nothing to say. Nothing to bite back with or a witty remark to lighten the situation. Instead he just flashes his eyes up and watches as she moves toward him, eyes downturned. His pulse races when she is close enough, and he can feel the tension pull through him—dragging at every last inch of his flesh until it’s a live wire.

After a moment, he finally reaches for her and then crashes into her. He presses a hot mouth to the corner of her lips and then races up her jaw, to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. He nips lightly but doesn’t break the skin—not yet. Instead, he gives himself into the physical, hoping to ease the ache in him.

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING