as twisted as I am, twist me more

Rhazien had just leaned down to drink from a pool of mountainside water, enjoying the backdrop symphony of the roaring waterfall when Zemir and Zemra emerged from the forest. Their large, rounded ears perked towards their master, vertical pupils narrowed into slits in the bright light of the midday sun. While quenching his thirst, the brute listened to their complaints- noting the searing jealousy that wept from their bodies, demeanors shifting between flashes of fierce possessiveness and scrutiny. A woman at their borders, rolling around in their scent markers like a gluttonous whore. Oh, Rhazien was more than intrigued- captivated, even. He’d soothe his girls over, grooming their heads with his tongue, caressing their fur with the tiny papilla that gave it that velvety texture. And once they’d calmed down, he would usher them back into the underbrush, commanding them to lay low until he needed their assistance.

Traveling beneath the canopy pines, sunlight filtering through the foliage in shafts of golden light, Rhazien is silent in his approach. Emerging from the treeline just as the girl finishes her song, and already his salacious gaze is eating her alive. Eyes lingering on every contour, tracing each supple curve, noting the way a cream and ebony pallet drapes across her frame. As he takes her in, there is a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, mischief evident in his smirk that carries a hint of charm. “My dear girl, ”  He croons, chin tilting subtly, eyes shamelessly taking her in before he aligns his intense gaze with those pools of shimmering periwinkle. "You’ve just arrived, and already you smell like me.” Lips pull back tighter, revealing more of those insidious, serrated fangs inside of his mouth.  His nostrils quivering, as he drinks in her scent- pheromones weeping from her pores, interweaving with the masculine musk she’d rolled herself in.

Taking a step forward, his head tilts ever so slightly to the side- boasting his curiosity, demanding her attention with his magnetism. "Have we met before?" He asks, expression exuding an unmistakable sense of anticipation, urging the girl to explain why she was here, dancing along the borders of hell with such ease.  Was she a whore he'd fucked and forgotten about?

"Speech"