The days have dragged on in no shortage of hours since Nyimara lost Tefnut to the black bastard next door. The wound to her pride far outweighed any scrapes and bruises that his brutality had left on her mahogany frame. The silver-haired woman easily blamed the defeat on her exertions against Asmodeus and her determination to bring his daughter back to the Desert. Nyimara has learned over the years that the key to survival among the harsh elements of such a godforsaken island as Salem was perseverance.
The Desert Queen has always been a formidable opponent in battle if only because she relied on years of endurance to guide her actions and reactions to challenges placed at her hooves. However, there was something about Asmoedus that, like Bjorn, dug at the festering wound in her blackened heart. She wanted him to bleed. Those years of training and practice went right out the window when facing off against her once-lover. Determination had gleamed in her near-black ooids as she fought with as much bravado and skill as her years on this planet allowed for. And in those cocky hours that followed, Nyimara had not expected to return home to find Lucifer waiting fresh and untried. The bastard had taken no thought to the welts and oozing scrapes on her flesh. If anything, he had taken full advantage of that fact and used it to his advantage. In the end, Nyimara had been forced to watch the beast herd away Tefnut with narrowed eyes and lips pulled back to keep the hiss of frustration and pain firmly silent. She would return the favor.Perhaps that reason, more than any other, the silver-haired queen focuses her attention on patrolling the borders and strengthening her injury-weakened body in preparation for the weeks to come. Lucifer would soon learn why she was the daughter of the wolf. She would take no prisoners and leave him crawling around begging in the wake of her hoofprints.That thought is what keeps her company now, lightening her sleep-hungry steps. So caught up in her own thoughts is the seasoned queen that she almost missed the smoke-spattered stranger…. almost.The flash of movement draws her dark eyes as the pale gold and pink hues of dawn illuminate the alabaster patches of his coat. Small, fluted ears twitch amid the silken threads of her silvery mane. First forward with a mixture of surprise and curiosity and then backwards in shame that such a stranger could manage to trespass into HER home, so far into her home no less, without her immediate knowledge.Raven-tipped sonars snap back against her skullcap, disappearing beneath the creamy silver of her mane as Nyimara changes the direction of her strides. Long serpentine arches dramatically, ashen labrums pressed firmly against the concave of her breast as the seductress lengthens her strides to intercept the stranger’s path.
”You are either brave or stupid….” she purrs, her unusually long whipcord lashing irritably against the supple curve of her womanly hip. Lithe limbs bring her to a halt as the mask of indifference settles easily into place across the exotic contours of her dished fascade.
”Which is it?” she inquires, raising a single brow as criticizing eyes sweep appreciatively over the healthy supply of muscle beneath his star-spattered pelt.