Stir the coals

Basilisk’s brow climbed up at that. Oh really, she was going to try to keep him from her? Good luck with that. While he wanted Ignita to build herself up, to find this freedom and make something of herself that she wished to be… they would both find that his goodwill only went so far.

A predatory gleam entered his eye, and he sauntered slowly closer to her. Dangerous. A warning in the slow movements of his steps. “Sweet Ignita.” he purred softly. “You get to dictate terms, when you have the strength to back them up. If you want to sleep separately from me… make me.” He whispered into her ear. No, he wasn’t going to give up an inch when it came to his lust to be near her. He wasn't done yet, and that warning glint was there in the molten heat of his eyes. All he needed was a tiny push...

"Basilisk"