There is a darkness in him that stirs this night, a restlessness fueled by the desire to maim and the desire to protect. Sitting outside her den, the son of Jaidah - mad queen of Judila in old Moladion - flicks an ear back as those jade rimmed yellow eyes land on the white and brown form of the wolf at his paws. Her voice is sin incarnate wrapped in velveteen kisses, even when she yells his name like a curse. It makes the hedonistic male smirk at her disdain for him, when not long ago she was howling his name in pleasure.

"I am here, treasure." His voice calm despite the boiling rage in his blood that demands he take the weak pups from her, to prevent them from sucking her life away as they do now. He has not been in, only smells the birthing blood and knows of the work Namaah has put into making his spawn. It is this that tears him apart, though with the half eaten carcass at his paws, it is clear he is trying to curb the will to kill his own blood. Perhaps, this is a trait of Cobryn's, his mother had told him of his father. A wolf that was attracted to insanity, but remained a family man - oddly enough.

The dead wolf at his paws serves as her meal tonight, but he is not quite sure of her tastes. He doesn't want to frighten the savage woman, or to drive her away with his tastes. It was the only prey the male knew, the only thing for him that satisfied his hunger. In this, the male has only his snowy mother to thank, and he does so every night when he hunts. It is not only the weakened the male seeks, but any wolf who crosses his path and happens to be male.

Male aggression was something that was common in the line of Jaidah the Mad. Unbeknownst to him, his half brother and now king of Asteraia was this way as well. The body beneath his strong form was male, though he was missing a piece that Jumanji had ingested to keep away from Namaah. Dead or alive no other dick would come near her so long as he lived and breathed at her side. "I've brought you something." He speaks quietly, the painted warrior's speech much better than his crazy relative's even if he does not use it often. "Provided you aren't the picky type as you were growing our whelps."

He looks into the den, instantly finding his dark temptress despite her camouflage. The dark colored pups carry hints of them both, and he knows from their smell they are his alone. He gave no other male a chance at her, so he did not have to worry so much there. With one last look at Namaah, he brings in his pied prize. "A meal worthy of a queen, delivered by her prince charming." Though small bits are missing, such as the shit-filled colon and acid filled stomach. Things that could hurt her if she was unused to wolf meat. Still, he is nervous about his catch, and its reception. She may well surprise him, but he has his reservations.