There is a pounding in his ears, a buzzing in his blood, and a weight cast across his shoulders. Pain splinters against his scruff, electrifying his body, enhanced by the simply touch of the black and white girl against him. Her scent almsot overcomes his bloodlust in this moment. Almost, but not quite. For Thorne would not yet be persuaded to give up his go. As his head goes down with those flashing fangs he feels the tear as her teeth pierce and pull flesh apart. She gives way from it, likely startled by the singular feeling. Has she ever tasted blood before? Has she ever felt the rip of her fangs against that of her own species?

It is slightly distracting, these heady thoughts, but Arturio has his attention as the white male steps to the left and yanks on his leg. A bolt of pain lances through it, the tendons and bone screaming out in mercy against the onslaught, and the moment that Thorne's teeth strike true against the white male's face, he collapses.

Azariah is not a slight female and with Arturio yanking his leg from beneath him and the female pinning him, it is only natural that Thorne would cave. He snarls, the faint taste of blood still on his lips, while squirming beneath Azariah. "I thought the male was supposed to be on top," he hisses out in a sardonic voice, quieting suddenly, eyes rolling up so that they stare at Arturio while he slowly lets his tongue wash across his lips, the blood there.

His words are meant to rile and disgust Azariah, since she seemed so disgusted by everything he has ever said. In this moment, he is his truest self before her. No longer catering to her whims in some fake attempt to woo her company. "Get off me," he growls deep although he cants his head to the side so that his cheek rubs suggestively against the paw there. "I've had my fun." For now.