Nyimara is not as stupid as Lucifer might believe.
The silver-haired queen keeps a wary eye on the Desert herd, especially Teagan. Although the dark mare has little love for the mahogany woman, Nyimara can sense a kindred spirit burning somewhere deep beneath the layers of false promises and colorful dreams that Lucifer sewed into place. With time, Nyimara is sure that she can clip each and every single one of the carefully stitched threads and, once more free the girl’s wings. But that will take time and time is apparently not on her side._________Paper-thin nostrils flare in anger as dark eyes track the fleeing figures through the dense bottlebrush. Raven-tipped ears disappear beneath the thick layers of her silvery mane. Despite the fierceness of their battle, despite the scars the black beast carried at her hands, he still tried to defy her.Instead of approaching with a bent head and apologies, the bastard still dared to resist her claim and poke at the festering wounds in her pride. She had hoped that the King of the Dunes would see reason after their battle, hoped that her prowess would be proof enough to him that she reigned Salem unchallenged….. And yet still Lucifer defied. Still, he took liberties and imagined that she would merely turn a blind eye. Oh, how wrong he was.
Mattheo’s warning of Marceline’s persistence has kept her on edge, kept her prepared. Swift limbs propel her with effortless ease over the hardened earth. Wind whips through her mane as adrenaline and fury pulse in tandem through her veins. Like a hunting pack of wolves, she tracks them, knowing without a doubt which direction Lucifer would lead the heavily pregnant mare and using that to her advantage. She does not follow their trail, does not come with thunder and lightening at her heels to chase them like a dog led by a man’s leash. No. Nyimara circles around them, using the distance and their slowed pace to her advantage. When they do manage to close in on the Dunes borderland, the woman is waiting with fury in her eyes.
”Did my wrath not leave a lasting impression Lucifer?” She asks, her voice venom-coated honey as tension swells the muscles taunt beneath her mahogany flesh.
”Or do you simply need to feel my claws dig deeper before you recognize I am not one to cross.” The last words are a whispered growl as she steps forward, death gleaming in her eyes. One way or the other, today, the fates would decide what would befall the black beast who dared to defy her.