Why she continues to press her will against the divinity of his own cannot be said, his mind incapable of understanding this persuasion- for he cannot comprehend the fickle tendrils of emotion that thread the conscious of her being. He is untouched by such things, unswayed by the piteous hold of feeling that so seems to swath those of this land until they are driven by it, consumed by it, until they follow heart over mind and lead themselves to the utter ruin of their weakened existences and he feeds upon them once more. He is unlike them. He alone is perfection upon this earth, the very epitome of wolf and of wild in all its ferocious glory. He is the beauty of the wildfire ever raging, the glory of the lightning storm that strikes with fear and power all at once and the earthquake that rages and tantrums and shatters the earth about it to leave a land anew in its wake. He is nature, beautiful and yet terrible- as it should be- she should not struggle against his embrace. If she thought not with her emotion but with her instinct alone there would be no other choice. The female is driven to the best of males, her very instinct alone should drive her too him- for there is no superior choice, for he is the most powerful, the most successful, the best of providers- tainted only by the failings of his mind and yet- these are failings only in the minds of those whom would deem them so. Nature should drive her towards him, lay her at his very paws- yet emotion, fickle, fragile and weak drives her back, sees her struggle against her own hormonal command within the frosted evening air as mind and body war within her and his own desires slither between his need to feed, forcing another reaction as his teeth enclose her muzzle in a dominant demand.

He cares not that she has sliced the flesh of his shoulder and drawn his blood, the sting and pain of such a thing is lost within the confines of his conflicted mind, a blur of nothingness he no longer cares to feel as he moves to exact his own command upon her. If she will not give him submission- he will force it from her, demand it, bring her to her knees before him as he has done countless others. She had been offered her chance and she had dared to defy him, the growl that spills from her clamped jaws lost entirely upon him as he seeks to force her downward in this manner as she attempts a weakened struggle against him, jaws holding her only more firmly. He can taste her weakness, can feel her wounds as they pain her and is only further assured of his dominance now as heckles lift against the evening sky and a snarl hums within his chest, each vibration punctuated with violent warning that he will tolerate no more from her. He has teased her, toyed with her enough- nature demands he react to instinct, take what is his to take as teeth release her muzzle to seize her ruff with more assurance then before, biting firmly into fur and flesh to allow himself better purchase upon her.

He can scent her upon the white one, the scent of his soul laced within each fur and mark and perhaps this too seeks only to further stir the desire within him, reacting to the scent of winter and soul and Jaylah all in one as blackened fur melds with the stark white of her own, each toned and hardened muscle coiled within the pelt of the obsidian angel as he lifts himself upward to straddle her smaller form and press her beneath him. Teeth grip her scruff more firmly, assuring she will remain steady as he positions himself as he should, reacting swiftly, suddenly, to the stillness she offers beneath him to do as nature commands. She will be fortunate, this night, or perhaps unfortunate. He has taken from her what can be given only once and yet by luck alone she will bare no young- if such a thing can be looked upon as luck. Motherhood is the gift of nature itself, the prize for that which is taken for its creation and yet she will be robbed of this too this night, though whether this is fortunate or cruelty cannot be said. Perhaps she will rejoice in a missed opportunity, else perhaps she will be left cheated- for he has taken from her and given nothing in return- made her his own and yet offered her nothing. It is some moments still before he lifts himself from her, paws landing back upon the darkened earth as the blackened Prince steps swiftly aside. Experience has taught him readily that females may turn in these moments, his shaded form stepping easily aside any fangs that may follow before eyes of reptilian green fall upon the red orb of her own.

“Mine.”

It is all he utters, the word tangled within an exhalation of breath as he turns from her to stride away several strides, long limbs extended upon the earth before he abruptly lowers himself atop a patch of cleared space within the earth, darkened form rolling suddenly from side to side as if he seeks to combine her scent and his own within the very earth itself before he releases a groan almost akin to contentment, resting upon his side now upon the earth- black pelt aglow within the gloom of the night, the demons of his mind grown quiet in this moment of respite from the energy expelled, assured he has taken from Jaylah tonight what was always his to take- satisfied, at last, that his years of waiting have been repaid- and perhaps they have. He sighs now, a rare moment of…peace seeming to descended upon the nightmare of Moladion as he rolls again before reclining upon his side- seemingly content to ignore the female entirely. After all, he is done with her, his desire sated- for now.