It is with a snarl of discord that the darkened prince sees fit to rise from the confines of his den, eyes of reptilian emerald turned upon the creature whom lingers outside. Already his muzzle tastes of the air, seeking the scent of weakness upon the female whom rests outside. Yet her form does not reek of vile weakness, holds no touch of decay though it does not lessen his hunger, saliva pooling within his jaws as the fractured tendrils of his mind knit together in blatant desire for the taste of her heated and bloodied flesh. He emerges from within the darkness of the earth, shade and shadow parting to allow the hellion to press through the confines of his blackened kingdom and stand before the other whom seems to have dared summon his presence in these moments, tall, powerful, muscular frame held high within the darkness, head and tail held with domineering force, refusing to allow the other any belief of power within the realm he calls his own as heated breath slithers from the blackness of his jaws to reveal the whiteness of his fangs as he stares unblinking. They do not come to him, others fear him flee from him, bow to him as his birthright demands and as such perhaps, the masculine female is allowed some moments with which to extend her life. He has been taken off guard, caught unawares by her sudden approach and his mind recoils from this, struggles to place her, finding no reaction within himself and yet still she treads upon his territory, touches land his own as a rumbling growl vibrates within his chest and words spill from her lips.
He does not perceive words so very well, is capable indeed of their understanding and yet chooses not to offer them in turn, mind rebelling against their use as even now they fall heavy and hard against his ears, the demons of his mind snarling and snapping with discontent as the fleshy curtain of his black lip lifts upward to offer a bare glimpse of his weaponry in a deepened snarl that shows every inch of his displeasure in her vocalisation. He presses forward now, suddenly, with assurance, seeking to press her back, seeking to her yield and accept his command as her words rattle still within his mind, piecing apart that which he can, struggling desperately to perceive what she offers as snarls slither free like venomous snakes from his lips. Perhaps she has heard of him, for there are few who have not, few who do not know of his moniker or darkened features and as such she should know he does not speak, his words as rare blue moons upon the sky, she should know also of his volatility, his violence and that such a creature is not in possession of a mind that makes deals. For he cannot understand her intentions as he drives her back. Perhaps she is not wounded, yet perhaps he may give her a wound, perhaps he may allow her blood to spill across his tongue and engage his violent self so he may feed and consume.
Yet it would seem a single uttered word is given to allow his bulk to pause, deadened eyes rolled now upon the one whom speaks, a rasping heard within his throat before words manage to push past the dusted veil of disuse and injury that offers a rough and rasping edge to each syllable.
“Who is…..mistressssssss?”
He allows the world to his upon his tongue, seeming to find a sadistic pleasure within the sound though he shows it not as he looks upon the heavy female, her scented tainted with male though he cares it not, sees not but flesh and feed and should her answer be displeasing to him….perhaps he will take it upon himself to taste of the morsel she is.