quinn.

He follows her.

He considers it, carefully, before he commits to trailing after the heavy fragrance of the ivory-maned mare. Were he a lesser man, Quinn would have taken her right in the Commons, when she slipped beneath his neck and aligned herself at his side, the soft waves of her tail flagged up and over her hip. It was as good an invitation as any — but Quinn is a creature of calculation, and so he does not give in to that temptation.

Still… the knowledge that this one time would yield no babbling, snotty little consequences to trip him up in a season or two was… well, it made the decision a more difficult one than usual.

He is sure this won’t be the last time Nyimara teases him. He wonders, as he follows her into the gentle autumn waves, how often she comes across a bachelor who can resist her, even when she does not so brazenly offer herself. He doubts there are many. Would she be offended if he declined her advances? Would she toss him out of the Dunes? Or would it only whet her appetite, if he were to make her work for it?

He knows this game of cat-and-mouse goes both ways. She is not the only one with such a hunger; as controlled as he is, lust licks away at the furnace walls of his ribcage, hotter and brighter the longer Nyimara remains within the orbit of his awareness. The chances of Quinn caving to that impulse grow higher and higher.

The thirsty air of Salem greets them at last. Quinn does not remember this place, but he knows his father lived here for a time, and there is an odd familiarity about the dusty earth and the dunes that rise before them in golden waves. Quinn’s eyes scan their surroundings briefly, but he cannot keep them off the silver bay for long, and they find her again soon enough. Quinn stands still, ocean water dripping from his belly and mane and running down his mahogany legs, dark eyes ravishing the Queen where she stands on the shore with him. He says nothing, only waits patiently for her to take charge again. He needs no guide or warm welcome to the place, but he wants to know what plans she has in store for him — it’s safe to assume she has a use in mind.

stallion. spanish mustang mutt. 15.3hh. smoky black overo.