When in Doubt, We Cull

As Seri leaned in to take the blade from his jaws, Zagan had a visceral reaction. He could have sworn her lip brushed against his- just for a moment- which sent a jolt of something foreign racing through his body. It bled into the space between them- quiet but undeniable- suspending them in a long, stretched-out moment of time. He noticed how she was looking at him- an unspoken enthrallment that swirled in her acidic eyes- and he wondered, if it stemmed from the same foreign feeling he had.

But, just as quickly as the feeling came, it vanished with her fleeting touch, her attention turning to the task. Shifting his weight, Zagan focused his attention on the sheep too- digging his cat-like claws into the carcass, and flexing his toes into the fleece to keep it steady for her.

While she worked, his gaze traced the movement of her paws- the way she gripped the blade, slicing into the fleece with practice ease- every stroke adding to the tension that was building between them. As she worked, she may have been unaware of his intense gaze- how it never wavered from her every move- how his pulse quickened and his eyes widened with every new gush of blood.

Blood. His attention abruptly shifted to his shoulder wound, and he licked at it, tending to the laceration. Her voice filled the space between them- she was talking about the sheep’s horns- and Zagan nodded as he mulled over the idea.

Recoiling his head, Zagan turns his snout in her direction, ready to agree. “We could collect them after-“ He’s suddenly taken off guard- Sericea is leaning in toward him again- only this time, she’s not taking a blade from his mouth. She’s hovering her lips over his laceration, her warm breath brushing across the wound. For a second, his breath hitched in his throat- he hadn’t expected this from her- this closeness, which left him caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. Emotions he'd never felt before.

And when her tongue brushed across the wound, Zagan had another visceral reaction. A subtle ache formed in his chest, spiraling down into his belly to take residence in his abdomen. His neck craned down, and he looked at her with wide eyes- eyes swirling with manic intensity- an urgency that bordered on feverish desperation.

Every muscle in his body was taught, his toes twitching and flexing, his claws digging deeper into the corpse at his feet. He stole a glance from her in a swift, intense motion- an almost predatory focus swirling in the edges of his gaze- a chaotic whirlwind of desire that thrummed beneath his skin.“Do,” He said, trying not to clench his jaw. “You know what you’re doing?” He questioned, staring at her for a long second, leaving her with a loaded question.

There was something deliberate in the vagueness of it- the open-endedness that hinted at a deeper meaning. He could be referring to the treatment of the wound, her actions themselves, the cataclysms she was causing, or all of it. That was up to her to decide.

Either way, he wasn’t going to tell her to stop.

"Zagan Saxe"