The Blood Runs Sweetest With Fear

The  wind shifted a bit, and through the blood of the screaming fawn, he caught a hint of a female, and his interest piqued. As she came into sight and made her statement, a slow smile pulled his face into a pleasant expression, eyes shifting to guile as he snapped his jaws shut around the base of the fawn's skull and gave his head a sharp twist to the side. The body of the fawn went limp, but it was still quite alive. A pity to have his game ended so early; the little thing would be unable to feel him eating it alive until the loss of blood and the overwhelming shock did it in. He dropped the limp creature and rose to his full height, thick, flowing mane only slightly soaked in blood, settling into place as he turned to fully face the smaller canine.

The hybrid took his time eyeing her up, the burning crimson gaze eating her charcoal and tan form up and settling at last on her bright lavender eyes and star-studded face. Finally, he gave a slow grin, brow points lifting. His deep voice - nearly a highest range bass - rumbled from somewhere in his chest as he answered, in a slow, sensual, Romanian accented purr, "Who says a grown male can't have a little fun, these days, doll?" His salmon tongue flicked out to drag over his jowls, cleaning away most of the blood before he traipsed a step or two closer. The caution in her eyes sent a little thrill through his blood, and his narrow head shifted slightly to catch her scent.

"What brings you into my presence, grey doll?" His crimson eyes roved over her form again, once more taking in each curve and dip.