This was what she had wanted. Dark eyes watch intensely as her words drive home. Not just any child. His child. The beast cackles within her breast and she purrs her amusement in the form of a twisted smile on her lips. She sees the wheels turning in his mind, watches as the irises contract in his eyes and the tension builds beneath his skin. She wanted him to give up something of his, a life. It was hard enough watching the children grow and disappear of their own accord but to hand over a newborn to her of his own free will in exchange for his freedom? That was the real test. Rougaru had hoarded her close in the early years of her life. He had truly been a doting father of that, she had to give the old wolf credit. However the first opportunity to make an alliance that would benefit him and he had traded her off like a prized collectable. Now granted, she had been thoroughly pleased with finding herself in Bjorn’s company, pleased to the point of obsession really. But that did not mean that when things went south between them that she did not really begin to dwell on the thoughts of just how easily she had been traded away. Not just by Rougaru but Solomon as well had gladly handed her leash over to the Lagoon in hopes of forging some sort of alliance. What he got out of that she would never know but she hoped it came back to bite him in the ass (like she planned to do one day).

He finally manages to speak, his jaws clenched tight and his own amber gaze darkened with fury. At first he does not immediately rise to her well aimed jeering and Nyimara finds herself wondering if she would have to actually break it down for him. Perhaps the whole “I-want-your-firstborn” thing had been too much of a bombshell for him to grasp the words that came after?

However the thought is fleeting for in the next moment he launches forward with his jaws parted and flames burning in his eyes. The beast is ready. Muscles coil as she pivots her heels to face the oncoming stallion with a ferocious scream. The weight of her body shifts as she redistributes herself to plant the majority of her weight on her hind legs and launch herself forward with forelegs tucked neatly beneath her. She does not rear high enough to give him exposure to the delicate bones of her knees nor does she over extend herself enough that she might give him access to the vulnerable bones of her neck should she come down within range of his teeth. Instead she brings herself forward with the momentum built up in her muscles to allow the sharp point of her shoulder to come into direct line with his own. It was bound to hurt like hell but at least it would pave the way for her real course of action.

Like a desert viper she strikes, coiling her tightly wound neck and aiming her snapping teeth for his foreleg just behind the elbow. It was a risky move but even if she managed to miss her mark at least she was hopeful that her blunt teeth would find purchase in the thin skin that protected his barrel or even flank if he was fast enough. Again and again she strikes, the sound of snapping teeth echoing in her ears and roaring through her mind. All else disappears in this moment except her determination to show the son of Solomon just who it was his sire had chosen to put himself at odds against. Of course her position would give him full access to her own rump and not even the darkness of her sweat stained mahogany skin would hide the welts that were sure to follow but she had learned to block that out until later. Fight. Bleed. Struggle. Win. Everything always came down to the most primitive and feral of emotions when everything was one the line...