For the Love of... *Sigh.*

Lyon moved forward, ready to take her up on her offer, his blood practically boiling. Behind his eyes flashed images of the Xanilov massacre and his breath caught in his throat. Bastard, bastard, bastard, some foreign voice seemed to chant at him. He took a deep breath and locked his heated gaze on the fae before her. He would do what he could to block it out. Yes she was in heat but what did Lyon care if he fathered a litter on her? That was her issue. What did he mind if her brought a few more bastards into the world? Still, the word seemed to burn in his mind. He forced a smirk and slowly circled the woman, trying to affect a teasing air. Surely she was as desperate as he was, perhaps he would find some distraction in that. "You mistake me for a lesser man, a kind one." Damn his morals. Damn his heritage, his muddy royal blood.