Oh, Despicable Me

It seemed that fate would not allow her the chance to do what she had wanted. Instead she felt the heavy pang of a counter attack hit her right center on her chest and the left side of her neck. I was too sudden, to abrupt and accurate for her to manage to react in time and even if she could, the swelling of her abdominal region would slow her down instantly. She did not stand a chance to a physical altercation. Was he mad? It was he that had pressured her frame downward into the freezing winter blanket of the earth, causing a gasp to slip her lips. There was one more problem. As she hit the ground she let out an audible smack. Along with producing a fragile squeak of pain. It would be heard by others no doubt, but the thought of it making her seem weak crossed her mind. Angry tones grasped her attention as he called, using other derogatory words. Whore. The witch had been called worse yet the hipocrisy found in this particular specimen was outstanding yet not by far surprising. It took only a second for the witch to register where the man eyes darted and she cursed inaudibly; her swollen abdomen was exposed in front of him, in full view. Exposed, their carnal sin came to light as did their devilry spawns that were now growing inside of the bronze woman.

His enormous paw sat precariously on her soft tissues of skin, on her portion of neck, claws soft enough to not pierce through, hard enough to enforce the intended message. The harsh treatment should have been cold and raw against her bare isabelline-white skin, but her numb body could not feel anything except observe through her visible eye to observe the hurt expression on the brute facade, even his growl sounded pained to her own auditory system. What was that? Does he regret launching at her now? Pathetic. Actions have consequences and this one certainly did. Her bushy, braided tail rotated, locking it between her legs and up to her stomach; protective instincts taking over, they were considering her a threat to the life of her spawns. Scruff rolled around her neck to protect from any other unwanted agression yet she could not deny the tangle of adrenaline that ran down her spine, so good and cold. Rolling her frame away, the witch went back to a standing stance as fast as she could. Jowls parted revealing her murderous canines as she uttered forth more corrections toward the manwhore, They are not yours. she growled threateningly, placing one teacup paw towards the ivory spectre before raising her tail proudly upon her serpentine tail. A mischevious lie, smoothly interpreted; her gaze hardening on the man, impenetrable and cold. She was not going to back down even if she did felt something for the man down her jewels. Damned be pregnancy hormones. You must have a bad seed, vermin. she spatted into his face, her muscle tensing as sweet adrenaline flowed through her veins, causing her heart to beat a tattoo into her chest. Come with you? Follow you? her words were like acid, pure venom poured from her ebon lips, coating every syllable in a shard of ice cold glass meant to cut deep within his whole being, words not meant to degrade but break. The lies were delivered with confidence one after another as she took yet another step forward, allowing him to see her, truly see her for what she was. She was not intimidated nor was she afraid of his radiance, of his annoying though exquisite dominance that he emitted; she was challenging him further, provoking the brute, unafraid. You must be delusional. she defied his statements with one dismissive flick of her beautiful crown.

It would seem the keen witch would not simply lie down and surrender, as probably was the man want, as he has probably witnessed before, so easily, simply and eagerly. It was evident by the way the top of her nose softly wrinkled, that she was displeased by the scene they were both situated in. You may attempt to take me by force, barbarian, but I shall not move willingly, without protest. her choice was clear, she shifted her weight to reposition herself, claws dugging within the ice. Yeah, he was large and scary by most mortals’ standards, but she wasn’t a mortal. She was not a weakling mortal; she was not a bitch, she was THE bitch. No matter, it is futile, these spawns will be soon gone. venemous words, acidic; the witch voice dropped to a lower, growly pitch as she came to a halt in front of him. Panting, chest raising and falling with each life-giving breath as adrenaline purged her very heart. Heavy were her breaths, rugged and yet it did something to her inside, being close to her spawns father. She was ever so tempted to make a move, but she wasn’t stupid. If her lies did not suffice she shall make a run for it before long.