Kershov expected the acidic, flirty comeback Aviias shot at him the instant he stopped speaking. Of course the sarcastic pythoness would dangle that juicy comment in the air hoping her Sire would bite; if Kershov pursued that topic, tried to pry into what dear darling prissy Aviias knew about the dirty games of sex, she would consider it a small victory. Ha, made you ask. A serrated smile crept up his features as he nuzzled harder into her downy fur, wanting to get closer and physically push her away at the same time, leaning with just enough of his substantial mass to make standing upright a challenge. He parted his jaws slightly and offered the smallest peek of glimmering canines, as if he were tugging at a cloth to reveal a set of priceless diamonds. What if he played into her tiny conversational trap? Would she answer him with more enigmatic tidbits, or outright play her carnal card to see just how far she could tease the beast before it snapped her up? Mulling over an acceptably piercing question, Kershov turned his face against the silk of Avi's pelt so that his cheekbone was pressed right against her shoulder . . .

Then the continuation of Aviias's dialogue finally hit home. She knew the outcome of Scarlet's fight. Knew that it had ended badly. And now she was smugly cramming it down his throat like a chunk of festering meat.

The obsidian stargazer that had been half-lidded with lazy intent to banter abruptly opened wide as a pit to Hell, its bottomless depths reflecting nothing but a sudden and terrifyingly intense wrath. His transition from repartee to rage happened without warning. Jaws unhinged and struck at the side of Avi's neck with cobra-swift accuracy. From this close--that speed--there could have been no escape from the attack, and yet instead of tearing into the fae's vulnerable flesh and shredding it from her body Kershov merely used the grip of his teeth and the leverage of his body to SHOVE Aviias as far from him as possible. Vertebrae crackled audibly as the tense muscles woven through Ker's thick neck contracted with the effort of throwing the femme back. A seismic thunder built in the base of the white dragon's abdomen and crescendoed into a roar that echoed off the forest. "You DARE offer ME an ultimatum?! DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH." The alabaster Alpha's words screamed with the raw fury of a blizzard. Always he had granted Aviias freedom of speech denied to other soldiers; always he had maintained his frozen wall, tolerating her disrespect with the same irritated patience one gives to children. But she had slurred the honor of his Queen. Aviias believed she could get away with reducing Scarlet Nights to a glorified whore instead of the savage valkyrie she truly was. That shattered the fragile chain of mutual "respect" linking Kershov to Aviias. He spoke to her as an enemy. "Your pride makes me sick. Never lost a fight, Aviias? Never had your face slammed into the dirt with your opponent's paw on your throat? That's supposed to IMPRESS me? Have you been picking your battles among pups?" Talons ripped into the grass when Kershov lowered his frame as though to lunge forward. He shook with the effort of restraining himself. "What if I were your foe, Aviias? Would you still wear that confident mask?"

The snarl warping the ivory warrior's visage tightened further as he prowled closer, driving Aviias from the sanctity of Abendrot's border. His need to dominate her absolutely, to destroy her as he'd destroyed Vladya, to mold her into a perfectly obedient puppet shrieked within him. It would be simple. Despite her supposedly unbreakable spirit, Kershov could grind her down until the cloud-born sheila was nothing. Enslave her mind with a single word. He could do it. He SHOULD do it--but the more Ker glared at his hated nemesis, the louder a different voice called out. One of cunning reason. Yes, the problem of Aviias's rebellion might be crushed . . . however, weren't there other ways to use her first, just as she was? The girl was practically begging to be utilized. Kershov must not shatter her too soon . . .

The merciless Emperor visibly calmed himself, anger melting from his outer shell and subzero restraint taking its place. One extreme to the other. "Fine, you want power? Be my Beta. That'll please the spoiled princess, won't it?" Cold guttural laughter throbbed from the demon's throat. He thrust his killer's sneer back in Aviias's face, unreadable black eye narrowed in cruelty, hackles pointed as the tips of swords. "It's just what you deserve, my lovely little pawn: second best. Forever. Right by my side . . . but not quite. A bit behind, maybe. What do you say?"

It might not work exactly the way Kershov wanted it to--and that was fine. If she accepted, the frozen Pharaoh would gain a fiercely loyal and strong-willed General, something Abendrot desperately needed in the absence of Enigma. After all, the Beta was the next line of defense; whoever had the misfortune of facing Aviias in battle would surely piss themselves and run after hearing the whip of her razor tongue. If she rejected the mean-spirited offer . . . well, then Kershov could savor the bitter satisfaction of insulting Aviias's very heart by spitting on her dreams of grandeur and by locking her in as Beta, so close to absolute control and still pining after the unattainable.