Loupgaru does not have much experience with the female gender, at least not beyond what his fierce mother would allow. There had been a few encounters with Parvati, but from what he had grasped, it was typical. What he was quickly learning here, was that the girl of shadow and light that haunted his memory like a ghost over a fog covered meadow, was far from typical. Instead of racing for the hills from which she came the moment he burst forth from the shadows, the nameless woman does not. She does not back herself against a tree for support nor does she brace herself for the onslaught of his attack. Instead, she rises to meet him with determination in her bright blue eyes. Determination that had not been there when they first met on the beach of the Inlet all those long months ago.

His rear is met with one of her own, a move that by all intents and purposes causes the beast to start with confusion. This was no meek, innocent little dove. This was not the same bright eyed child that had met him on the beach and wavered between confusion and agitation at Parvati’s interference just as he had. No. This beautiful, fierce, feral creature has grown and grown into something far more akin to himself and less like the flaunty princess that was the Inlet queen. His blunt, yellow teeth find their purchase upon her flesh just as the sting of her own ivories grasp a mouthful of his flesh, pinching the skin and bones tight between her teeth and causing the raging scream on his lips to turn into something more akin to a roar. Surprise and confusion played together hand in hand as the flesh of their bodies pressed together. Heat burns beneath his mahogany and white skin, blood pulsing rapidly through his veins and pounding into his ears like a drum. Seconds pass and together they release one another’s flesh, his jaws working behind now closed lips as he savors the icy flavors of her skin. Proud head lifts in defiance as she moves again, circling around his muscular body so tightly that he imagines himself able to feel every single hard, sculpted muscle on her beautiful white patched body. Golden eyes follow her, his broad head tilting to trap her within his feral glare as she curls around him only to rise again at his shoulder. White and brown fur along his spine prickles, rising with rapidly growing tension and tightly strung sexual frustration. ’Mine.’ the only word whispered from her lips against his ears causes his own flutes to tilt backwards. Mine. The very same word he had once hissed against her own skin now causes his own to shiver in unspent frustration and anticipation. Ash dusted labrums peel back to reveal blunt ivories once more, somewhere deep within his breast, a silent growl rumbles though the young wolf manages to strangle it just before it escapes.

There is no sense of love in his eyes when those depthless golden pools stare into hers, no searching hope in her own. Instead, there is passion and hunger, a fierce desire that none had yet to match. Mate! screamed the monster and the wolf together as one but Loupgaru is not foolish enough to let the voices bring life to his own voice. To mate was to claim and to claim was to love and he was not sure he even believed in such foolishness. Sure Rougaru had chosen mother as his mate, and at one time, there had been another and even after her disappearance. Yet Loupgaru had already tasted the metallic vice of Parvati’s claim on his skin and promised himself to hell with being forced into such ever again. He was a wolf, not a pet dog to come at a beckoning call. He was wild and untrained, untamed and unhinged. Try as he might, even the fiercest part of him did not seem to sway this ghost at his side.

The fire does not quite die in his eyes, they remain the same unreadable pits into the abyss of his soul. What does appear however, is the smallest hint of a smile, a grin tugging at the corners of his ashen lips as he leans closer still to her, pressing the weight of his shoulder against her own. ”MINE!” he growls, his deep voice graveled from lack of use. Paper thin nostrils flare as greedily he drinks in her scent, memorizing the curve of her throat and the pulse of her blood. He wants her. More than anything in his life, he wants her for himself and no other. Heels shift weight as the stallion pivots away from her, his thickly muscled neck arching to clamp onto her skin and bring the weight of his own throat over her own. He does not need the season of fall to be upon them to want her, to claim her. He does not care if Parvati appears and crows her horror at his primal desires. He needed to feel this, from the moment she found him on the beach of the inlet, he needed this.