'You're so cute when you're mad.'

It takes every ounce of willpower Frida has to hold back the enraged scream that threatens to tear from her throat. the beast inside her howls in rage at his words, thrashing against the confines of her ribcage. she wants nothing more than to propel herself at him and sink her teeth into his skin. she wants to wipe away any trace of that smug smirk from his face and cut him down to size. she wants to teach him his true place: beneath her.

He must be trying to get me off-kilter, she thinks, so it will be easier to knock me down. She does not want him to see how upset he is making her, knowing it will only give him leverage to use against her later.

He's talking again, but Frida feels as if can barely hear him above the thunderous beat of her heart inside her ears, can barely see him through the red that stains her vision. She hides her burning, snarling rage behind a saccharine smile, pale lips curving deceptively upwards. Slowly she advances toward him, a tiger in horse's clothing. He's not taking this seriously, if that handsome infuriating grin on his face is anything to go by. Well, let him see how serious I am.

"A tempting offer, but I think I'll pass. I'd hate to feed into your delusions," she croons, the tone of her voice at odds with the twisted sneer painted upon her face. She thinks she'd rather throw herself off one of these cliffs than ever chain herself willingly to him. But she is reminded that she already has when a blunt little hoof digs into her side, the child in her womb performing an impromptu interpretive dance on her spleen. Frida's ivory tail flicks harshly against her sides as she quietly wills it to settle down. If she'd known Ender would turn out to be so insufferable she would never have let him have her.

So she likes to say.

Frida reaches out to brush her nose against the curve of his cheek, then down to the latch of his throat. It starts as a lover's touch, skin whispering against skin, warm breath fanning across his face. She wants him to let his guard down, to leave those weak parts of himself unprotected against the rending claws of the beast inside her. "Let me make one thing clear to you, Ender: I am queen here. I make the rules. And if you desire to call Paradise your home, and to see your child, you would do well to remember that."

She punctuates her statement with a sharp nip to the side of his neck, blunt teeth scraping harshly against hot skin. It is not enough to draw blood, but she is sure he will feel the sting of it.