Nyimara tells herself to believe him. Despite the iciness of their relationship over the past few seasons, the chimera stallion has remained a steady figure in her life. Well, steady as any could be with the likes of her. Still, she cannot deny the graveled voice deep within her that whispers its distrust. Voidless black eyes remain fixed on the multifaceted layers of his blue-green orbs, searching for any sign of the emotions that festered beneath the surface.
But, like the obedient mate she preened into perfection, the beast moves towards her, stretching his whiskered lips to the sweat dampened silk of her coat. Small, fluted lobes tilt backwards as her throat arches, her own ashen labrums pressing protectively into the concave of her breast. The alluring scent of him that envelops her now is enough to muddle her senses. Satisfaction settles over her flesh like a thick fog rolling down from the high peaks of Tinuvel in the early morning hours. Instinctively she leans into the skilled rhythmic administrations of his touch, a pleasurable purr lingering in the depths of her throat.Part of her expected to feel his body tense at the show of her hand. Glittering eyes expect anger to flash behind the languid blink of his turquoise eyes. At least a still in his gently caressing touch in the admission that she lays before him. Salem could be his…. But only if she is at his side. The golden leash and harness glittering in the bright desert sun.
’..Why would there be a problem… Nyimara?....’ The smooth delivery of his words, as he draws back to meet her gaze, is confusing. Dark brows knit in suspicion as he offers her a Cheshire smile.
”Oh really?….” she questions, her own lilted tone dropping in octave as she curls against him, her slender form circling him to ensure it is her scent and not Marceline’s that exists upon his flesh. A coy smile slides across her velvet labrums as her chiseled head presses her angular cheek against his shoulder and back up along his muscular neck.
”Because you have given me every indication as of late that that particular plan was no longer in place” she murmurs, her tone absent of emotion as she fits her small crown into the crook of his throat.
”What exactly happened while I was away on your little…. Errand? Marceline show you what a failure she is?” The last quip is coated in venom. She couldn’t help it, from day one the red queen seemed determined to get beneath the silver witch’s skin, stretching her greedy fingers for anything Nyimara found and molded into perfection. Asmodeus is not the first to be tricked by the cunning fox in silken threads and it was quite clear from her sweetly veiled threats, that he would not be the last in her attempts to best the chocolate woman. He wants her trust. Questions whether it exists and the mahogany woman stills. Did she know such a word? Even her sire was always held at bay. Too often had she tried to
trust only to have it come back to rip at her existence. Bjorn... Shenzi.... It was never a long list, but it had been there. Somewhere between Quinn and Asmodeus, Nyimara had come to expect the betrayal. Was it fair to her chimera lover? No. Not really. Then again, when has life ever gone fairly for her.
”What reassurances do you have for me?” she purrs, her honeyed words a barely audible whisper against his dark throat. He started playing this game of matches, should he really be surprised if one managed to light?