He does not hear another, even as their paw falls echo against the stony walls of the crags. He does not hear them because he is intent on the one beneath him, the roar of his blood in his ear drowning out even his snarls as they rumble through his throat. Meryl must die. It is a mantra as he glares, it never clicking that indeed this wolf is not Meryl…the one he is not supposed to harm. To harm him would be the end of his relationship with Dragon…no matter how perilous it was at the moment. She could be faithful, she could prove to him that Meryl was of no danger yet somehow…right now in light of the previous situation he doubts it. He does not believe for one moment that Meryl is not a threat to all he envisions for his future. Meryl could be the end of something before it truly begins. Meryl must die.

”You must die.”

The words are spoken upon a whisper, blood stained fangs flashing as he begins to descent, eagerly anticipating the wolf’s blood upon his tongue and the thrill of knowing that he has eliminated a thread. Dragon would hate him, would despise him yet what else would she have him to do? He could not sit around and pretend that this does not affect him, that this does not rile him so deeply that he is questioning his sanity. Oh love, the truest evil ever known.

The body beneath him begins to thrash but he is resolute in his purpose, strong in his position, which is why he growls with frustration when his fangs click upon fur, dodging the heated flesh he coveted. At first he thinks it is Dragon, coming to rescue her precious runt, and he rolls. His body relaxing as it impacts before throwing his legs out to push off the earth and facilitate his roll. He rolls once before rising to his paws, snapping at the air as his own tail rises. Queen of his or not, she will not deny him this kill, she will bow or chose now. She could not have her cake and eat it too in this, he would not stand for it…could not stand for it.

”Dra..”

Eyes narrow as he takes the female in before him, as she stands between him and his quarry. She stands in a battle stance, her hackles raised as her lips curl back to mimic his. A rumbling growling purr rises to thrum the air as her orange eyes pierce his optics. Hers were of the same hue while one of his is white the other banded; the white an indicator of his Dragon bloodline, his connection to the Fantastic Four and all of their differing temperaments. She speaks, her lyrics brushing against him as he struggled to place her voice. She, his Dragon did not speak with such a tenor, she was not so dark either. Head tilts as reality twists, fighting against his rage to settle into place. It was something that was not so hard to do when he focused on the girl, for his deep seated rage was not with her but with him. Slowly it bends as he blinks, once, then twice as his ears swivel upon his head. It might have worked, he might have come to reality had Meryl not decided that this was the most optimum time to rise and give a parting shot in the form of a snarl before turning his back on the duo. Meryl was nothing to him but a dream thief, a seeker of things not his and as such he does not deserve to live. A snarl nor growl has chance to leave his lips as he lunges, enraged to see the coward put speed on as he flees and he turns this anger upon the girl. She should not have intervened. She was not his Dragon, mind had warped enough to see this but she had enabled Meryl to escape.

”Fool.”

He breathes before he angles his body to charge her head on. He never believed in those dances, rather seeking a more straightforward fight. He aims for her face, to grab a hold of her muzzle and twist her head down. He believes that if he can control the head then the body will follow. If he is successful in his grip he will clamp on mercilessly, the muscles in his neck working to jerk her over and down. Eyes narrow for in the charge he has felt the pain of his ribs, her attack sure to leave a deep bruise, yet he is in no mood to falter now. Pushing through this he attacks yet if she were to dodge or move he will alter his course. He will then attempt to throw his right leg over her back while he rises up to grip her ruff. If allowed purchase he will then attempt to wrestle her down yet again. His intent is not to harm her yet to punish her for getting in the way, for letting that runt live to see another day. Yet, he is not above tasting her blood as well, for he is in such a dark state…his mood as unstable as his heart.