Life's a Golden Platter, Baby

She responded to his oh-so-suave line with sass that brightened Idal’s senses like a taste of paprika - hot and mouthwatering. The shock of her ready comeback had a short, joyful laugh jumping from his chest, pale blue eyes narrowing to study her closer. She’s full of surprises, this one. Her mention of “standards” made Idal want to test them, to learn about everything Ziva thought she wanted in a male and either fulfill her requirements or exceed them - or abolish them and give her new merits to judge draggas by, ones her innocent mind had surely never dreamt of. The anticipation made Idal’s jaws ache, as if Ziva were a delectable morsel he craved. Experienced whores were as welcome in his den as any virgin . . . although the virgins were very fun to play with, and nothing quite compared to the shivering satisfaction of showing an inexperienced girl what she’d been missing all this time. “Standards I can work with,” the avian knight quipped. “It’s girls with morals I can never seem to please.”

Ziva’s eyes were truly stunning. The inner light trapped within them seemed to flash brighter at some of Idal’s words, as if their glow were tied to the breakaway speed of her pulse. He already loved the way her azure lanterns smoldered when they examined his physique, the flicker of blue coals that lined her pupils when she swept her stare up to capture his. Her features, which might have been muted in the darkness, were instead carefully sketched in a cyan halo - outlining the nearly vulpine elegance of her face. Idal decided he wouldn’t mind these eyes watching him all the time. And a distinctly sinful curiosity raced through his spoiled mind that said Ziva’s eyes would probably shine brightest as she cried out from her first taste of perfect bliss -

“I look good in any lighting, princess. But I think I look best in yours.” Chips of glaciar ice met burning sapphire. To Idal is seemed as if, for a split second, Ziva’s oceans might have beamed more sharply than a newborn star.

A low chuckle made his shoulders bounce, amusement at her straightforward flirting crumbling any reserves Idal had about this girl. Youth did not make her shy, or wary, or awkward; Ziva pursued him voraciously, openly, and the older male appreciated her tenacity. A worthy partner to play the courtship game, even if their heated advances lead nowhere. Idal could enjoy the warmth the kindling words between them inspired. “You should be careful, Miss Ziva. Even big girls sometimes bite off more than they can chew.” The smile he gave her showed all his white pearls, sharp and perfect. “If this were winter, that kind of talk could get us into trouble . . .” He drew closer, nose lighty tracing the outer edge of one triangular ear, humid breath tickling the sensitive surface. “Though I might get into more trouble than you. Is your daddy the protective type?”

If Idal were a smart wolf, he would have excused himself from the conversation as soon as Ziva began speaking of her family - of the pack that surely protected her heart. Because he would harm that heart, at least a little bit, even if he did so on accident, for the spoiled prince didn’t know any better. He’d never felt the sting of consequence; servants kept solely for the purpose of accepting blame and punishment had protected the strawberry blond from reaping what he sewed. No sense of danger thrilled through him at the prospect of toying with someone he had no business touching. No awareness that he might be judged harshly, even vilified, should he pursue this young, inexperienced creature. Ziva was female, and she obviously liked him, and that was reason enough for the hedonistic bastard to bathe in her attention until he decided how far he wished to push their chemistry. What was a pack of angry Tempests to him? If Ziva’s family were omniscient, then let them swoop in and save her from the mistakes she’d already set up for herself by dancing with a handsome stranger.

If she allowed him to, Idal would run his chin over the tip of her ear, down the medial border, and then nuzzle lightly against her crown before drawing away, forcing Ziva to come closer if she wanted more contact. Idal was feeding her small, tempting treats, mere sips of forbidden fruit, keeping the branch out of reach.

Better Eat it UP

Avian Prince | Abandoned his throne | Heartless | xathira