Wash my dreams away

Saracyn wondered if Scylla would show up to respond to his call or if she'd simply ignore his presence. He wouldn't blame her one bit if she'd decided to leave him standing on her doorstep like a fool. But as it would turn out, that wasn't what was going to happen. Instead, after only a short bout of waiting, Sara heard the shifting of foliage and turned his gaze to see the oh so familiar slate and cream form of Scylla step out into view. Their gazes met, cerulean holding ice blue and slate gray, and the Mendacium brute felt his breath catch in his throat. Scylla may not have been a very emotional wolf, but Saracyn was—he just wore a mask most of the time to conceal his feelings away from everyone else. Only Scylla and Avacyn had ever truly seem the wolf beneath the facade. Seeing her again brought back a rush of recent memories—chasing Scylla through the midnight rock garden, their bodies colliding, roiling, crashing together, sharp teeth and heavy breaths against his ear. Sara swallowed hard to repress the memories threatening to overwhelm his better judgment.

Scylla purred his name in greeting, still as sensual and enticing as ever. It twisted something in the dire brute's chest to hear her say his name. She smiled at him as if he hadn't hurt her and Saracyn had to pretend he wasn't thinking about that either. She sat across from him over the border, just teasingly out of his reach and squarely in her own territory. Her territory. Scylla had made it. She'd become the queen she was meant to be. Saracyn watched the way her eyes roamed over his body, salacious and proud, as if looking over each part of him she had claimed. And how she had claimed him... and her in turn for him. Sara's cool-hued gaze roamed down over Scylla's body brazenly, his body quivering with a tension as more memories of their moonlight coupling returned to him. If she weren't on the other side of that damn border...

Scylla made a passing comment about how his father was supposed to tell him that she was fine, along with a thinly veiled comment about how she had fucked his sire again. How many times had the little lecher had her way with his father? It actually stirred something inside the brute—envy, possessiveness? It gripped at his chest whatever it was in ways that made his claws rake at the dirt. His lip quivered as he resisted the urge to growl. She was showing off her prowess, a prowess he was well aware of. "He did tell me, actually. Although he left out the parts about you two fucking." Sara's blue eyes blazed as he held the challenging look in the eyes of the fae that could have been his soulmate. Play nice... you're here to be friendly. "I wanted to see for myself. I'd heard you'd laid claim to a pack. I guess I had to see what Queen Scylla looks like in all her splendor." He flashed her a grin of his serrated teeth; he was teasing her back now. Two could play at this coy game.

"Saracyn Mendacium"