Screaming bloody murder

Setekh lounged on his haunches, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His molten eyes, sharp and calculating, followed every movement the other male made in the dimly lit chamber. Kyanite's relative, he assumed, was determined as he knelt beside her, swiftly assessing the injury.

The ship's quiet hum filled the air, punctuated only by the occasional creak of metal under strain. Setekh observed with calm, yet vested interest as Kyanite's relative refrained from tending to her wounded leg. The girl was simply too volatile. In too much pain for her to endure. So, he moved forth, offering his physical support to Kite with a soft rumble from his chest as his fores wrapped around her. He began to beckon her, softly, a ruse for her kin as he dropped his lips to her ear. “Remain motionless,” He whispered, sweetly, wickedly. “But if you crave release, sink your teeth into my flesh. Be done with it.” The words were for her ears only, whispered and heady. The scene unfolded like a carefully choreographed dance, each movement from the Ivory God deliberate and precise.