Uncertainty. Rogan lacked a talent for deciphering nuanced facial expressions, but the emotion’s tugging at the stranger’s face were as easy to read as bold print on a fresh page. The corners of dull red eyes pinched, drawn together by the taut furrows drawn across the pale brow; a grimace turned the closed mouth into a tightrope, trapping words that hadn’t yet gathered into a complete sentence; uneasy energy buzzed around this bone-colored male, his blood spiked with the acrid brine of stress, and Rogan wanted to shake the awkward soldier like a dumb puppy until his brains sorted themselves out. What on earth did this fool have to be insecure about? What more convincing did he require? The russet vampire had laid out all his points with perfect clarity, handed choices out to his hopeful recruit on an explicit platter, and in return this weakling brute stared at him as if Rogan had asked him the meaning of life. Mahogany hackles prickled upward. Fangs elongated impatiently, Rogan mere seconds away from losing his temper and simply dragging the other man back for Diosa to feast upon -

“I want you to bite me.”

Words rolled out in a frantic tumble, falling from those precarious tightrope lips. As if his bravery would desert him if he failed to speak quickly enough. Rogan stopped short, head tilting comically to the side, shocked at this sudden change of heart - or perhaps a revealing of the hessian’s heart, for he would not have actually guessed that the winter prince desired to become a midnight monster. The current Monarch of Caidir Olc had only mentioned changing this loner as a last ditch resort. And as for that previous undecided anxiety? The coolness of relief washed through the stranger’s scent, and through the guarded crimson glass of his flameless lanterns Rogan glimpsed how serious the ivoro was about his request. No regret. Only lingering worry, the skittishness of an omega who feared what the more dominant wolf might do to harm him. In this case, if Rogan took back his offer and left the white warrior in the dust, he’d irreparably damage whatever kinship they might build from this exchange. Was Rogan truly ready to cast another in his image? Was he ready for the responsibility of his own saidu? Might as well give it a try… after all, there was the possibility that this fellow would die rather than turn. And then Rogan was back at square one. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

A casual shrug rolled the merlot male’s broad shoulders. When he lifted his glimmering carmine gaze to meet the dog’s windows, he showed nothing but a fraternal friendliness… and the silver daggers of his fangs, twin razors that dipped below his chin and glinted with impossible sharpness. A minute bead of venom shivered on the tip of one and dripped to the ground soundlessly. “Then, comrade,” he replied jovially, “I will bite you. Where… ?”

Surely the alabaster loner would take a moment to think of where he wanted those deadly knives to pierce him. Whatever he tossed by Rogan’s teeth, the vampire would politely oblige. When this option turned out to be a paw - a hind paw, no less - the larger hunter paused to raise a subtle brow at his future saidu… or perhaps victim. “Really? It is up to you, but… never mind. I will do this for you, as your pack-brother.” Rogan took a moment to roll his burning eyes (seriously, these Blossom Forest wolves) before unhinging his jaws… stretching forward… and plunging his fangs into the presented limb, just below the ankle joint. He clamped down firmly enough to ensure the stranger could not rip free and escape the jolt of venom into his veins - but not nearly as hard as he would into prey. Diosa’s dark kiss had been deceptively gentle at first… until her poison seeped into his bloodstream and its terrible magic started rewriting Rogan’s very DNA. After a few seconds - ensuring that the liquid in his specialized pearls had made it beneath the pallid brute’s flesh, Rogan pulled back and sat down. He simply had to wait for the venom to work -

“Oh. I should tell you.” He sat up straighter, his realization like a rod in his spine. “This will be excruciatingly painful. Sorry. But it won’t take very long for you to turn. Or die.” One large forepaw lifted to wipe at the side of his muzzle, massaging the gums beneath his jowls to gently coax his fangs back into their normal length. “Your eyeballs will fall out. You will bleed from every pore in your body. But this is a good thing - it means the poison is working! I am Rogan, by the way. Don’t know if I mentioned that already. It will be important for later, if you survive and become my saidu.” His wagging banner thumped against the ground. “And your name… ?”