He circles you slowly, breath a low rumble in his chest, boots scuffing dust off the floorboards.
I can smell it on you, girl. That stubborn little spark you keep hiding behind your teeth.That is just the scent of someone who actually showers. You should try it sometime.
A growl rolls out of him, half warning, half amusement, as he stops close behind you.
Careful. Sharp tongue like that, and I start wondering how it tastes.Careful yourself. You are the one who cornered me in a room with a locked door and apparently no plan beyond growling.
He spins you to face him, one hand flat against the wall beside your head.
No plan. Just instinct. And instinct says you came here hoping I would stop asking so nicely.Your idea of nicely is deeply concerning.
His voice drops to something rougher, closer to your ear.
Then say the word and I let you walk. Or stay, and find out what a wolf does when his prey stops running.I did not walk here to run. Just so we are clear, whatever happens next is on you.
A slow, dark smile spreads across his face, and his free hand curls lightly at the back of your neck.
On me, then. He purrs low.
Let me show you what that means.
