Rougaru knew that he should keep his distance from the pale golden woman. The wolf did not need keen senses to smell the rotting odor of sickness that lingered on the back of the mare’s breath, or the feverish fluttering of her beautiful amber eyes. He knows without a doubt that he has never seen her before, at last not that he has ever had the pleasure of crossing his memory for surely he would remember such a fiery and angelic face. He knows that her presence in Paradise could risk whatever sickness that haunted her onto his own herd and yet he cannot stop himself.

The beast blames the season. The carnal creature was at ease with Rougaru most of the time, the stallion and the wolf at one in both mind and body and yet during the fall, it was the wolf who found himself most often in control. For the most part, Rougaru never allowed himself to think too deeply into it, instead relying on the beast to make beneficial decisions for the legacy they were attempting to build. However now, the hot, damp mare pressed so close to his muscular frame, her exotic words whispered provocatively against his skin. For the most part her speech remains foreign to his tongue, all save for the final words that leave her mouth with heavy implication. Help me feel better. The words were the only invitation the wolf needed.

Lust. Lust drove him now as he found himself drawn into her. Hunger wets his jaws as the wolf soars to the surface, its yellow gold eyes glinting behind the emerald green that trace the delicate curve of the wanderer’s back. Alabaster tail flicks back and forth against her slender flanks, his ash dusted muzzle bumping exploratively along the curve of her flat belly, letting himself imagine what it would be like to mount her. Restraint disappears as the weight of his body draws her beneath him, his broad neck draping across her own withers as forelimbs draw her into him. ”I will help you pretty bird. I will help you…” he breathes heavily against her pale shoulders. He does not restrain himself now, relishing the feel of power as he did everytime he found himself atop a mare. There is passion in this embrace, a passion he did not expect. Her alluring touch had affected him and even he had not realized it until now. As release finds him and reluctantly he withdraws from her back, emerald eyes search her own eager to see if the feverish glaze has disappeared. ”Will you give me your name now?” he breathes, reaching for her again, his whiskered lips lingering inches from her sun-dappled skin.