Quinn was an unusual creature. Unlike Bjorn, he seemed to revel in the glow of the chaos she left in her wake. Like a poison, she feels herself drawn to him, desperate to soak up every glitter of appreciation and approval in his blue eyes. Where the others tried to tame her. Tried to corral her into some semblance of reverent, quiet creature; Quinn did not. There was a kindred spirit that drew them together; it fanned the flames of hunger and lust and chaos that twisted and coiled tightly around them and bound them together. Though a part of her still yearned for Bjorn in a way that not even her handsome king could exercise from deep within her mind, still, she appreciated the rush that Quinn’s presence brought her.
Instead of dismissing her fury as Bjorn might have done or rolling his eyes and sighing at the venom soaked words coming from her lips as Cullen or Aranck would have done, Quinn listens. Though she would never care to admit it, the mere fact that he does not immediately dismiss her devious plan as folly only deepens her lustful hunger for him. Instead of bursting into flames or relinquishing the reins on whatever beast lurked within him like Nyimara was prone to, the umber stallion merely pressed his lips together in a thoughtful line.
Silver white tail flicks back and forth against her supple hips as impatiently the mahogany woman waits for his response. When finally it comes from his lips, simple and precise, the sadistic grin spreads across her own. He was in. ’I think it’s only fair.’ he muses, pressing his dark skin against her own, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through her veins. A wild gleam dances in her eyes as hungrily she drinks the touch of his skin with a firm press of her own, coiling her agile frame against his like a serpent coils around itself. ”I knew you would understand.” she murmurs, pressing her velvet dark lips against the curve of his throat and inhaling a deep breath of his testosterone soaked scent.
Though moments ago she is resolved in the importance of the matter, now her train of thought wavers. Lust and carnal pleasures paint vivid pictures in her mind of the press of his body against her own and the thrill of his broad shoulders draped across her slender back. The beat of her heart quickens as she imagines the sweat slicked sounds of their bodies together and the coos of pleasure and appreciation as he whispered them against her skin. Suddenly, her body aches for him, her lithe legs shifting back and forth beneath her in anticipation for the dance that plays through her thoughts. It is only the grizzled sound of his voice that redirects her adrenaline and forces the delightful imaginations to retreat to the recesses of her mind…. For now.
’Just tell me where to begin my search.’
A bit agitated she scowls up at him, parting her jowls to let blunt teeth scrape possessively across his chocolate shoulder as a reminder to them both of what would come…. Later. ”Well I suppose there is no point in scoping out the beach in hopes that some child will wash ashore.” she begins, pausing a moment to switch her tail with calculated slowness as the Dunes begin to map themselves out in her mind. The Desert lay to the south, just beyond the largest oasis but from what Nyimara could remember, there had been no child wandering at the heels of one of her father’s mares much less did she see the pup loving old wolf willingly separate one of his offspring for it’s mother just to give her the opportunity to one-up her half brother. ’I suppose if the Dunes does not offer up some wandering nomad’s child then we should search to the east and west. Marceline and Rafe are both allies but I do not exactly see either of them willing to offer a child so be secretive and be swift.” she breathes, drawing back to turn her near black gaze to the pale blue of his own. ”We will visit the Badlands first and then make our way towards the Hills. If Marceline catches us…. Turn on your charm.” she purrs, a playful gleam in her dark eyes. ”I hear she has a preference for dark boys with a bit of a wild side.” she teases. Deep down, the beast snarls at the idea of Quinn flirting with the red queen and likes even less the idea that Marceline might reciprocate such philanderish behavior. However that was another thought for another time and Nyimara felt sure that should the scent of Marceline find itself on Quinn’s coat, an even more fierce and bloody battle might ensue and perhaps even make their lust more pleasurable.
With an almost reluctant pur she rakes herself along his body and turns towards the western horizon. Beyond the rise and fall of the sea of sands, Rafe and his rocky Badlands rose to meet the hot sun. Nyimara did not relish returning to the Badlands, the red rock and shale wasteland was by far one of her least favorite places in Salem. Made sense to get the worse over with first.
Without a backwards glance to see if he would follow, Nyimara dances away from him. Lean muscles ripple beneath her mahogany coat as the desert blooded woman charges easily up the sloping sands and halts to gaze at the hills and valleys of sand around them. Disappointment finds momentary purchase in her gaze as she sees no wandering mother or child on the horizon. Of course it would not be that easy. Giving her proud head a toss the leads the way towards the Badlands at a leisurely pace. As they go, her mind once more drifts to the pressing needs of this task and the distraction of the season. Of course Fell would choose fall to come an visit. Of course he hoped to catch her off guard and unsuspecting. Once more the flames of fury begin to rise, prickling her dark skin and lathering the growing sheen of sweat that darkens her coat.
She is so lost in the smoldering flames of her thoughts and the familiar, lusty warmth of Quinn’s presence, that she almost misses the colt that charges nearly right into her. Surprised, she throws her head up and takes a step back as the spray of sand from his small hooves settles again onto the Dune.
’Did not mean to trespass.’ the words cause her back turned ears to shoot forward. That strange tone of his voice is familiar but it is not immediately placed. He mentions a lion near the water and the silver haired woman glances back down the slope he had come. Nothing. Whatever danger had sent him racing into her path was gone. ’Mama made me run…’ the beast within her perked its ears at that little bit of information. A single brow raises as she glances wordlessly to Quinn before turning her attention back to the colt. ’So… thirsty.’ he squeaks, tucking his chin protectively over his throat.
Perfect.
Easily she slides the mask of concern into place, dropping her finely dished head to bring her small muzzle level with his own. ”Oh my dear boy you are safe now.” she murmurs in her best soothing croon. Impatiently she takes a step forward, reaching her long neck to bump against his shoulder. Only then does the familiar scent hit her like a drift of cold snow.
Shenzi.
It takes all her power to restrain the growl that threatens to rise from her throat. Teeth clamp firmly together as she inhales a deep breath, as if to assure herself that it is not some ghost to torment her. No, this is Shenzi’s child, of that she is more and more sure. The lilt of his little voice, the fierceness in his eyes, even the broad curl of his neck reminds her of the dark mare that had once been so very dear to her. The one who had patched her heart together and ripped it asunder again.
This discovery made up her mind. He would take Rhaenys’ place. Feigning an exchange of concern she nuzzles the colt’s shoulder again, reluctant to let him far from her reach. ”Come sweetling, let’s get you some water and then we will go find your mother. Does that sound good?”