Those deadly green eyes of emerald stone cut violently sideways and towards her, each muscle rippled and puled with aggression in her frame grating against the delicate balance of his patience as he pelt is given to fluff and bristle with her foolish, misguided attempts at her own reckless destruction. Those darkened, blackened jaws part to bare bloodied fangs as lashings of saliva run atop the sandy soft earth and the depraved creature allows a hiss of malice to seethe from his ravaged throat, a single warning, a single threat of that which will come if she dares to defy his dominance, dares to try and stand above him or show aggression in his presence. She is his subordinate, she is beneath him, she is not his equal, does not speak his language as the one of red and white he keeps within his den and earth, the female grown round and heavy with pups his own though he hardly knows it, cannot perceive it, just as he cannot truly perceive the bond of soul that summons his blackened form from the depths of the shadows and towards the angelic white form of the one whom lingers before him. He does not understand that she has not called with voice, that the call had come from some part of her soul, reaching and grasping for his the twisted tendrils of whatever shred of soul he has left within himself, that single, fractured piece perhaps the only thing left within himself that may well be alive, kept beating and pulsating by the will of Salem alone though surely neither can fathom such things, can truly be given to grasp an understanding of the bonds that twine them together as neither desires. The demons of his mind hiss and shriek and the mere sight of her, he hungers for her blood as he does no other and yet his mind recoils from this notion with a painful savagery that sees him turn only upon himself in some effort to alleviate this torturous need to feed.
Her words within the frigid air see his own form rise once more like a towering shadow, a dark angel given to spread and stretch it’s wings as his form eases upwards before her, muscle and power rippling and gleaming beneath the lashings of ebony hair that glow like obsidian in the glow of the sun, breath forming a smoking halo about his form as those white and red knives glint against the half-light and another snarl works it’s way from his stained lips to slither towards her. He understands her words, understands her meaning and yet denies it so. She has called. This he knows and he will not be told otherwise, he will not be tricked by this vile, weak creature to whom he is forced to come when called like a mongrel dog dragged by the chain that chokes it. Tobias rarely speaks and yet indeed when the animal is given to do so he is not questioned, he is not denied, he is not argued with and her tone alone slashes once more at those fine ribbons of patience that grow ever thin as his discord increases and the distance between them is closed once more, long limbs allowing the midnight of his frame to caresses against her own as he circles her form with a hungering growl once more, the sound vibrating his entire form and imparting as such to her own as he slides against her, circling her close and tight, soothing the wounds upon his soul with this very touch though indeed his fangs still bare in warning, that he will do as pleased or he will tear the flesh from her. Perhaps he cannot kill her, no, but harm her? He may be willing to try. He understands only that he desires her touch in this moment, needs her closeness and will take it as he requires before his form returns to a position before her own, tail trailing along her sides as he turns towards her with deadened eyes once more.
“Calling, calling, always calling.”
The words roll and grate from his lips, the harsh, roughness of his tone cracking at the air as he stares towards her once more, unmoving, unblinking, words dead and devoid as he himself as he accuses her again of the crime she does not know she has committed, those reptilian eyes fixated upon her with unyielding force.
“Hunt….with me.”
Hunger, always hunger, never sated, his need all consuming and indeed his mind has twisted upon itself once more. If he cannot consume her, he will consume with her beside him, seeking to fill this ragged void within himself with food destroyed by her own jaws, his words not a question for indeed there are few so bold as to deny The Black Prince.