The fact that he had so easily struck a cord with his little pet names was an amusement for himself as wekk as for the beast. Together they grinned at the flash of distaste that gleams in her dark eyes. Where Zjeena had once met his names with indifference, this forest beauty all but outwardly recoiled at the very mention.

He half expected her to lash out as he presses against her. He does not miss the tension beneath her skin and the reluctance with which her feet begin to move forward. The beast salivates, hungered by the ideas that the fall season left in his mind. The touch of her starlit fur against his and the exoctic scents she carried does not far misplace the fading estrus from her skin. While she might not carry his young, no doubt soon she would begin to grow round with a foal. Too bad. Already next year. The thought makes the wolf chuckle. He just had to keep her here long enough to make that happen. Lucky bastard.

There is a high step to his walk, pride glowing in the muscular arch of his neck and the power that echoes beneath the sleek coffee color of his hide. Small ears perk upwards at the whispered lilt of her voice. She plants her feet into the rich soil and stops, clearing making an attempt to prove a point. She stands alongside him now, each rise and fall of her breast brushing her soft skin against his own with such feather softness that he cannot help but to take a step closer if for no other reason than to continue to annoy her with his nearness.

And yet she continues to excite and confuse him. Her words may scream indignation and yet beneath it, the whisper of sultry passion lingers. The wolf growls, its inaudible voice lingering within his own throat. She leans towards him, her soft obsidian labrums pressing softly against the russet color of his throat. Emerald green eyes gleam now as he angles his head towards her, thick veil of carmel and cream colored locks. The wolf knew the danger it was to let her close, this close to such a vulnerable piece of his body, yet he is unable to draw himself away. She was dangerous in her mystery and the tenderness of her touch a flame to the fire that burned strong in his core. A wolfish grin spreads across his lips as he leans against the warmth of her starlit hide, arching his own neck to allow whiskered lips to brush featherlight touches over her small breast, nostrils flaring to inhale her woodsy scent. "Two can play at your game Titania..." he murmurs, tongue rolling across his lips. "Are you willing to lose with grace?" he teases drawing back to give his thick skull a shake, shouldering rolling as a single hind lifts to cock easily in display of relaxation. A single dial tilts sideways as the dragga turns to fix her with calculated eyes. "You might provoke me in a way that you might not find as enjoyable princess." he growls, lust lingering upon the syllables of his voice.