Sweet Nothing

How could he deny that as he waited for her presence to come before him he grew so inexplicably happy? She was a sublime, sweet little thing, but the truth of the matter was he was not the man that she needed. He was not going to be her little knight in shining armor. No, he was so incapable of it. So lost to his own devices. Yet, the only thing that crossed his mind was pleasing the little gem that he had only just met. She was sublime, her little opinions, her perfect curves. So swathed in elegance. He couldn?t get enough. Had it been that way meeting Kamala? No, it hadn?t been, though, he did love her. He remembered thinking that she was a fine creature. Lusting over her. Wanting to consume her very countenance. Though, intellectually, he thought nothing of her...yet.

Luscious locks dove before him, her suave steps entrancing him yet again, and as she was delivered a warm smile would dance over his inky jowls. How defined she was. How much she had grown. Where before there had been more narrow hips of youth, she bore more curves, more elegance. A fine woman. A loving woman. A creature he could not help but to lust for. Tongue would glide over his lips and his eyes would fight their urges to grow ravenous. Such simplicity crafted into an elegant puzzle piece. Young Chrysanthe, you tempt me so.?

?I must admit that I am pleased to see you, Chrysanthe. The fates must have something in mind, hm?? His frame would rise and he would stand towering before her. His blue gaze dancing over her svelte form and he bowed before her. Such a lustrous creature, deserving of the divinity he so longed to offer himself to. His figure would rise yet again, his molten eyes devouring her and his voice raising to a smooth baritone, ?I had plans of coming to see you, for I simply lack the ability to resist you, firefly,? He would stare at her in silent contempt. Was his presence a disturbance to her now? After she had seemed so willing to fall before him? He surely hoped not, it would prove so dreadfully disappointing. And yet...he needed to speak with her. Truthfully. Something he rarely cared to do.

?Ah, Seracia. My bar to you. Our Queen is gone, My rank has been turned to that of duke and I am training a new duchess...about her though...? Simply put. How could he put it? How could he unravel the truth as to why he had not come to see her? How could he tell her that after their encounter he had willingly accepted a wife? Ah, it was simple, and he felt no remorse. It was merely nature for him. Nature to raise the numbers. To hold all the wives. There was a simplicity that he had to admit he loved. He had to admit that he needed. His head would turned slightly to the sunset and he would attempt to drift towards the darling creature, ?Her name is Kamala, and she is my wife,? He would deliver the information upon a swift tongue, and he would let her take it as she so needed. He needed her to know the truth of his life. He needed her to know what was happening. Then he would explain to her that he refused to let it be the end of their entourage.