my heart runs on gasoline vapors

Bold, confident. He liked it. She spoke her mind, and was unafraid, just what he liked in a diplomat. But was she willing to dedicate herself to the Armada, and grow with his pack? Only one way to find out. He grinned at her as she spoke, her words sealed a deal with the devil. There was no backing out now, he would ensure it.


He closed the distance between them with a lunge. There were no tells in his body, he went from stillness to movement with the surety of one who honed their body for survival. He might be old, but it would be a long time yet before his body failed him. He clamped his teeth into her scruff and pulled the smaller wolf over the scent markers, claiming her in that motion as his own. "Welcome to the Armada, Lefty. We'll soon see if this storm is an omen of your time here." He grinned at her, knowing full well she had picked the storm to make her approach. He already had big plans for his new diplomat, and how she handled herself in a dangerous situation - and how she wore the mantle of slave - would all be tests for her to overcome. "You will bear the rank of slave, and will report to my grandson Basilisk. Prove yourself, and you'll be free of this title before the season is out. I'm expecting big things from you." He looked down at her, and released his grip in her scruff, curious what she would do next.