Let me love you

Basilisk's soul had grown more tormented. More cold. When they had first met, the yearling had shown an irritated facade -- but slowly that irritation had grown into unadulterated rage. A fire that had been ignited deep within his chest. Occasionally it could be stifled, but never fully extinguished, but it would always return, burning strong and true. The fire was visible in his vibrant purple eyes, especially as he watched Cataleya. His face would twist into a sneer, a smirk toying with the corners of his lips.

The yearling watched as Cataleya's morphed into a snarl, mirroring his own.
"I will make my way to the battlefield tomorrow," he told her in husky tones, his eyes narrowing. "And I will fight." It was the best way to practice. He hoped she would agree.

He would creep forward, closer to her, watching with interest. Her scent was strong now, pungent and unavoidable, and he couldn't help the primal need that flowed through him, hot and powerful. Daringly he would surge closer, daring to let his jaws part, aiming to graze her chest with his fangs.