Rougaru knows that this is no mouse he plays his games with. She is a viper, a snake disguised in beautiful scales. Her offer might entice one close but in the next moment she would strike and her venom was aimed well for the heart. On more than one occasion her works had burned him. More than once her venom strike deep into his blood and caused it to boil and freeze all in the same instance. It was a never ending game between the two, the wolf and the ballerina. The dense jungles muffled much of their screams but even the gods felt the power of their rising emotions.

He knew that one day his pride would be the ultimate downfall for him. Deep down he knew that he or the wolf or both would rise to meet a challenge that neither were prepared to win. He knew that only so long could he bridle her spirit and thrash her demeanor before she discovered a way to lash back. Too proud. Too far.

too late.

The words play over in his mind as she spits them at him. Again he feels the venom of her words as she prances beyond his reach. Were it possible for the wolf to bite him no doubt he would find himself victim to its fierce teeth more than once. This time, this time the wolf would have gladly devoured him. His body burned with hunger. Pent up rage and anger pulsed through his veins ignited by the implication of her words. He knew that she would not willingly part with her son, but the very idea that he would be left to watch as she sought another. That hit hard and deep into his stallionhood. She knew how to torment him even when he thought he had beaten her down.

She raises her gaze to meet his but he does not see her. The beast rises to her, the yellow gleam in his emerald eyes bright in the pale dappled sunlight. He does not take his time now, instead he moves to her with all the fury and fierceness that he would come upon an opponent in battle. Dirt and leaf litter spray beneath his hooves as he slides to a stop, stretching his neck to grasp her withers firmly between his teeth. He does not take care or use gentleness with her as he takes her beneath him. This is no lover's embrace. Hunger and lust burn through him now, forcing his hard hand as had her own words. "There will be no doubt this time." he hisses as his forelimbs cling tightly to her sides. He is not gentle. Pearly whites snap viciously at her withers as he thrusts his hips powerfully and drives himself roughly into her. There is no wicked laughter or venomously spoken words to fill her ears, only wicked and deep groans of pleasure as he takes from her what he wanted. His seed coats her womb now and he lingers a moment in the embrace of release. It was the first time in awhile that he had forced a mare beneath him. While Vanya was not exactly a forceful conquest, it was still a conquest nonetheless. A wolfish grin spreads upon his lips as he slides from her back, snaking his head forward to reach for the flesh of her exposed flank. "It will be mine this year Vanya. You are mine." he murmurs with graveled tones.