Turn Up The Heat

*Artemis* · (This post was last modified: 11-09-2017, 10:21 PM by Artemis.)

The man seemed to have no qualms about making the most of their closeness. "There are no wings for the wicked," he claimed and Gods, that appeared to be true. His eyes held a quick-witted, joyous sort of intensity, as if he were enjoying every moment of their little charade as much as she was. It seemed obvious enough to Artemis that they were both acutely aware of the predicament they had found themselves in, but there was something so simple and sweet in the chase. "I suppose that makes us two wicked wolves, then," she said, contrary to his assertion that she must certainly be a proper angel. If he wanted to think that way she would not dissuade him, inaccurate as it may be. Artemis hummed to herself, as if considering his question. What did she need from him? The list was rather short, and she was more than confident he would be able to assist her.

Angel moved forward to brush, ever so gently, against the side of her neck to the corner of her jaw. She shivered a bit at the contact, uncaring if he noticed. The electricity crackling between them was evidence enough of the effect they had on one another, and Artemis wasn't sure she was capable of feeling ashamed in any circumstance, let alone this one. "Well, I could enumerate, but I think it would be best if I showed you." She was a woman of action, after all. And besides, the time for idle chit chat had come and passed as far as she was concerned. She allowed the distance between them to close, side stepping to press her side against his flank, feeling the heat radiating him even from the distance between. It was compelling, as if a magnetic force drew her in.

"Talk" "You" Think

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