[ M ] anchor up to me

She's so damn tired of the secrets. Ironic, really, considering the colossal one she's now hiding, but Augustine has more—she's certain of it. There's so much she ignored over the years; rules he skirts, the company he keeps, the way he comes home at odd hours of the night. He never smells like women. It's always alcohol, sometimes smoke, like he's been somewhere seedy.

This time, when she hears the front door shut behind him instead of joining her in bed, she follows.

She follows his scent trail through the streets of Sussex, clinging to the shadows so that she doesn't draw attention to herself—though at this late hour, almost no one else is out. Sussex always gets eerily quiet at night; noblewolves are wise to lock themselves into their homes. So why is it, then, that her husband of substantial political standing is able to trek through the heart of the underbelly unscathed, night after night?

She wonders if his immunity will extend to her, or if their relationship puts her more at risk. She's cautious and on edge, but Senka is not afraid. Eventually, the trail leads past the outskirts of Sussex and onto the winding path that leads to the beach. As far as she knows, there's nothing out here, but she doesn't think Augustine is doing anything so innocent as going for a swim. What is he doing?

She nearly misses it.

It's only Augustine's scent abruptly cutting off that has her pausing, a forepaw lifted, her eyes searching for an explanation. There, in the side of the cliff, is a narrow opening that could easily go unnoticed if one wasn't looking for it. What...the hell? She creeps closer, hugging the wall and listening intently; there's a faint echo of chatter and laughter, but nothing she can discern from here. Senka's a smart girl, and it doesn't take much for her to slot the puzzle pieces together: this is a bar.

A well-hidden one, but a bar all the same.

She knows how to handle herself in a bar, but she's certain there's a good reason why this one is so...discreet. Senka draws herself up, doing her best to seem confident that she belongs here, but not so poised that she can easily be pegged as nobility. She's stopped the moment she steps through the crevice all the same, her path blocked by a burly man who's quick to deny her. "Can't let you pass, miss." Senka purses her lips and stares at him for a moment, the possibilities running through her head like a wildfire. "Really?" she drawls. His stony expression doesn't change. "Are you sure there's...nothing I can do to change your mind?" She bites her lip for good measure, blinks up at him from beneath her lashes.

There it is. That gleam in his eye, the flare of his nostrils. Men are so predictable. He's thinking about it, and she's smiling sweetly like a snake in the grass, oblivious that her little game is about to crash and burn.

art // code

my demons come to play

The hour was late. Most of Sussex was asleep, the nobility tucked safely into their homes, blissfully unaware of the back alley dealings and dirty politicians. Odysseus had been out for hours, doing what he did best. Tonight, he did so with an equally large wolf beside him. The man was steadily proving to be useful, more and more reliable, an unwavering force of nature. Doling out more and more responsibilities, Odysseus tested him relentlessly, demanding every drop of loyalty from the wolf, especially when they stepped into a shady deal. With things mostly handled for the night, they headed to the drunken seagull. It wasn’t his favorite bar in Rionnach, but it was one of the few places the Thieves Guild could gather and not be bothered. As they traversed the cliff side, the ocean roaring in their ears, a familiar perfume wafted by. Odysseus paused, just long enough for his companion to notice.

What was Senka doing out here?

Like a bloodhound, the Barin wolf followed her trail. She had no business out here, especially at this hour. How the hell did she even find the bar? Ears pressed forward, ignoring the questions from his companion as he listened to the sounds of the night.

Up ahead, he could hear the whispers of bar chatter as the door opened and closed, but that wasn’t what held his attention. He could just make out Senkas voice, though what exactly she said was lost amongst the crashing of waves. Letting those same waves mask the sound of their approach, Odysseus was quiet as he stepped into the crevice that hid the entrance to the bar. What he found ignited his anger faster than he anticipated.

Senka’s back was to him, a bouncer he had seen countless times in front of her, keeping her out. But there was a spark in his eyes, a slight curl of the bouncers lip as he considered whatever Senka had said. There was a hunger in the bouncers stare, his eyes caressing every curve she had to offer. He reached for her, for what belonged to Odysseus. The snarl that erupted from his jaws was like the racking of a gun, loud in the quiet and distinct. Immediately, the bouncers eyes snapped to him, widening slightly. Dark hackles bristled down his spine, his size seeming to fill up the entire crevice. Dark ears pressed against his skull and amethyst orbs blazed with violence. {“Touch her and you won’t have paws to touch anyone again.”

Lethal tones dripped like venom from his dark lips that curled high above his teeth as he stepped closer, all too eager to throw blows if that’s what it came down to. The air around him crackled dangerously, giving Senka a glimpse into the side of Odysseus that made him successful in this business. He didn’t waver, he didn’t blink with indecision or uncertainty. The prospect of close quarters combat didn’t frighten him, didn’t soothe his temper that teetered on out of control.

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Senka doesn't care what she has to do to get past that door. She's already headed down a path of sin—what's one more to add to the tally if it gets her what she wants? If Augustine and Odysseus both will shirk every question she asks, she'll get the damn answers herself. She's always been sheltered, and Senka has grown so very tired of her gilded cage; she doesn't mind breaking the bars, even if she damages her wings in the process.

However, before the wolf in front of her can take even more than a single step closer, his decision made, a snarl cuts the air. They both freeze, and Senka's head whips around, her heart kicking up to the steady rhythm of a drum. His snarled threat is enough to have heat coiling in the pit of her stomach; she's never seen him like this, feral and possessive, and it does something to her.

But Senka has more pressing matters tonight, and she shields her scandalous thoughts with the flare of anger in her gaze instead, letting that heat stoke the flames.

The bouncer is all but forgotten in his immediate retreat into the shadows; she suspects that he won't try to stop her again with Odysseus at her side, but Odysseus himself is going to present a larger problem. He is not so easily manipulated—and nor does she want to manipulate him. "Are you going to let me in, then?" she asks, challenging him with a glare.

art // code

my demons come to play

He was met with angry green eyes and it only fanned his temper. Senka glared at him, as if he had interrupted whatever was unfolding here. The bouncer shrank back, whether it was because he knows better or is unwilling to tangle with the dark wolf, doesn’t matter. “Go, and don’t fuck this up.” He barked the command at the wolf beside him, dismissing him with an instruction that might seem vague but he trusted that the man got the meaning. Do not breathe a word. Odysseus's largest commodity was discretion. All the while, his eyes never left Senka’s, boring into her very soul.



Heart pounding against his ribs, his body was hot with his fury, his breathing increasing just slightly through flared nostrils. Jaws clenched, his teeth grinding together as Senka threw a challenge down at his paws. She was demanding entry. “No.” He snarled. The singular word was loud with finality. Then he was reaching out, grabbing her in an unflinching hold to jerk her closer, and away from the door. Stronger than her, he dragged her close, pinning her between himself and the stone wall, ignoring her protests.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, leaning in close to her face, breathing a fire that was far greater than anything she’d even thrown at him. His body practically vibrated as he pressed into her while he not too subtly smeared his scent across her fur. “And why is the bouncer looking at you like that?” Like he wanted to eat her, like he had a right skate his hands across her body. Rigid musculature did not relax, did not soften, his hackles didn’t drop now that they were alone. Jealousy ran rampant.



In the back of his mind, his reaction surprised him. She wouldn’t be the first woman in his bed to entertain others and none of the others had stirred even an inkling of a reaction from him. It was her prerogative, but it wasn’t. He didn’t completely understand the overwhelming possessive need that threatened to consume him, but she wouldn’t be spreading her legs for anyone else if he had a say in it.

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Senka barely even registers that Odysseus is not alone. Like it always does, the world narrows to just them; she thinks a wise woman ought to be scared of the look in his eye, but she seems to lack a certain level of wisdom when it comes to him. The body that brushes past them is noted only with a flick of her ear, and then he's denying her with a snarled "no."

Her lip curls, but before Senka can offer any sort of return argument, Odysseus is upon her, yanking her into his chest and crowding her against the wall. Her protesting growl echoes in the narrow hall, and she struggles and snaps at him none too kindly, hoping to draw blood. Her fire quickly rises to match his, and together, they threaten to burn out in a blazing inferno.

Senka meets his glare with an unflinching one of her own, stopping her futile struggling as her nostrils flare angrily and her chest heaves. "August is in there," she grits out, her eyes flashing. She knows that needs no further explanation—Odysseus has been a firsthand witness to her descension in distrust in her husband. He had been the catalyst.

Does he really think, after waking the beast in her, that she will put it back on a leash?

"None of your business," Senka snaps evasively, baring her teeth. Her walls are ramping back up with her anger, as though everything they've shared hasn't begun to border on something dangerously real. She can't afford the distraction. Not now.

art // code

my demons come to play

Instead of shrinking away from like one might expect a noblewoman to do, she bared her teeth at him, her anger sparking brighter in her eyes. Her growl fills the stone hall as she struggles. And then she snapped. Her teeth connect with the tender skin high on his neck, near his throat, piercing his skin with her ferocity and eliciting a feral response. A growl started low in his chest, clawing its way up his throat as it rumbled with dominance. Instinctively, his tail lifts, curling over his hips as he seeks a hold of her scruff. She attacked him, on his own turf, in a public setting. His bite to her scruff is harsh, harsher than it had even been but not as harsh hers. His teeth press into her skin, promising to leave a mark this time. Odysseus holds her, offering her no wiggle room to escape unless she intends to feel the scrape of his teeth against her skin.

August is in there. He’s only barely listening, intent on forcing her to the cool ground at his feet. Her husband was the furthest thing from his mind, even if only a door separated them - again. Odysseus maintained his position by keeping a tight leash of control. No one disrespected him. But at the same time, she unleashed a tidal wave of lust. It shot through his veins, better than the high of any drug money could buy.



Her second answer is evasive, one that riles him further. Teeth still bared at him, she resists giving in. Releasing his grip on her scruff only to get in her face, he towers over her. “It is my business.” He growls, his own inky lips peeled back to display his fangs. Fury collided with lust, creating a heady cocktail that poisoned his system and threatened to cloud his judgement. “You think you are going to march in there? And what? Confront him?” There is a tone of incredulity to his question. “Do you have any idea where you are?” Surely she didn’t actually think it was a good idea to march into a bar that housed Rionnachs worst and demand answers?

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Oh, he did not like that. Odysseus retaliates viciously, his teeth sinking into her scruff and eliciting a sharp yelp of surprise before his weight is bearing down on her, driving her to the ground. Senka only manages to make matters worse for herself by fighting his hold, trying desperately to backpedal out of his grip; Odysseus gives her no quarter, the marks on her neck widen, and she finds herself pinned to the cool stone all the same. She's breathing hard, spitting fury with her cheek and belly pressed to the ground.

Beyond the anger of his words snarled in her ear, Senka can tell that he thinks she is an utter fool in this moment. Maybe she is. It had been impulsive to follow Augustine here, and even more so to try and gain entry before she knew a damn thing about the place, but her restlessness has turned into desperation. "No," she mutters, staring angrily in the direction of the door she can no longer see. "I was hoping he wouldn't see me." That, too, is probably a stupid notion. She likely would have drawn attention the moment she walked in that door, and lost far more than she would have gained in doing so.

Senka huffs, deflating somewhat as the fight begins to seep out of her. "No," she repeats flatly, her teeth grinding. "Are you going to tell me?" Doubtful, but she can't help her need to grasp at straws all the same; she's already found the place, so she thinks he might as well explain it—but she's certain he's far too furious to humor her right now.

art // code

my demons come to play

She fights him every step of the way. But in the end, he’s bigger, stronger, meaner. As she thrashes in his hold, he feels his teeth scrape and pull, undoubtedly marking her creamy skin. She’d remember this moment for days to come and if not for her thick coat, the rest of the world would see the marks he left. Her yelp echoes in his ears, brushing against his psyche in a way that has him wanting to hear it again and again. A denial parts her lips, as if she could deny him anything now, still, it makes his jaws flex around her flesh. They went together like fire and gasoline, each fueling the other into something bigger. The foolish hope that she admits has him huffing with incredulous humor. She hoped Augustine wouldn’t see her? That was her plan? Like she wouldn’t draw attention the moment she stepped through the wooden door. A new face was always immediately noticed. “Don’t be stupid, Senka, it’s not pretty on you.” He hissed in her ear. All hell would break loose the moment Augustine saw her.

Another denial spills from her lips but this one is less venomous. The fight was fading from her, slowly but surely. Right back at it, she was pressing him for answers, but Odysseus still seethed. His jealously blazed out of control, heightened by his twisted lust. Fucking her into submission on the front porch of the drunken seagull wasn’t an option. At least not yet.. “Get up.” He didn’t move, he didn’t give her space to rise effortlessly to her feet. She’d have to crawl and that thought alone had his lips curling in a vicious sneer. Her belly would have to brush against the unforgiving stone, collecting whatever dirt and muck lingered there. He had half a mind to match her step for step, to keep her under him, to keep her crawling in a vain attempt to escape him.

“This is the Drunken Seagull. It’s home to the Thieves Guild.” Surely she’d of it, whether it be from Augustine’s lips or that of society’s housewives. The Thieves Guild was no secret and everyone knew of the bar they all frequented. “You, going in there alone, would draw the attention of every single wolf.” Like vultures descending upon a carcass, they would be on her the second her paw hit the bar floor. She wasn’t stopped at the door because she was a woman traveling alone, she was stopped because she didn’t belong there and it was obvious.

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"Don’t be stupid, Senka, it’s not pretty on you.” Her lip curls, but Senka doesn't respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting that he's right. It's not pretty on you. Those words stick in her mind like glue, digging under her skin, flashing her back to when he'd told her just the opposite. You are stunning. Odysseus, following her like a man overboard pulled by a siren song. I would never put you in harm's way. Odysseus, looking at her like he would stop the world on its axis if she asked. Promise? Yes. Odysseus, bringing her back to life, fanning the flames. You are stunni—

"Get up." She snaps back to reality, drawing in a sharp breath and finding that he still hovers over her, domineering and cruel. Senka waits for him to move, to give her space. He doesn't. Her eyes slowly roll up towards his face to see that he's sneering down at her, as though she's an ant beneath his shoe. Realizing the intent behind his command, Senka swallows and squirms uncomfortably in the dirt. And gods help her, she doesn't hate him for it; there's a sick thrill in being at his mercy.

She finally begins to move, slinking forward on her belly and creeping out from between his forelegs. "This is the Drunken Seagull." That name means nothing to her. Mud clings to her legs, her belly, her cheek where he'd pushed her down. "It's home to the Thieves Guild." Halfway out from under him, she freezes. Her eyes shoot back to the direction of the door she never got past. Her nostrils flare, and her blood rushes in her ears. It comes as no surprise that Odysseus is associated, but Augustine...

It explains so much, and nothing all at once.

And she is acutely aware that Odysseus has just stopped her from putting herself in harm's way. All at once, she's not angry anymore. Rather than continuing to try and escape him, Senka tries to placate him, pushing up on her forelegs so that her shoulders are pressing into his chest, and her muzzle is tipping up towards him. Her throat all but bared to him—a measure of trust, or of submission, she isn't sure—and she hopes he doesn't berate her further or shove her away when she whispers an earnest, "I'm sorry."

art // code

my demons come to play

There’s understanding in her eyes when she dares to peek up at him. She knows what he wants and it makes her squirm. He doesn’t bother to hide his pleasure. He watches her closely, his eyes never straying. She crawls, beautifully, staining her coat with dirt, just for him. His lips twist with wicked delight. Knocked off her high pedestal, she is no longer the mayors wife, the noblewoman, she is simply his and whatever he wants her to be. But she stops, her body going still with realization. Her eyes snap to the door, eyeing it as if it might burst open to reveal its monsters at any moment. Didn’t she know she was already at the mercy of a monster? A monster that she’s repeatedly let into her bed. Did she fully comprehend that now? At his paws, she was on his side of town now, gone was the glitz and glam of high society. The streets here were dark, a different monster lurking on every corner, the buildings worn down but fiercely protected. Here, he had a different image to up hold, one that demanded a merciless hand.

Like a flame being quickly extinguished, the fight leaves her body instantly. She pushes herself up so that her shoulders press against the planes of his chest and her head would follow suit, tipping back and thus exposing the soft column of her throat. It was soothing. Behind her, he relaxed, knowing she wouldn’t fight him anymore on this. I’m sorry. She breathes the apology just for him and his lips twist into a different sort of smile - one is that is pleased with her sudden change of tone.

“Come.” This time, he stepped away from her, rewarding her with the space she needed to stand though not with the opportunity to clean herself up. Leading her out of the hidden crevice, he stepped first into the chilly winter air that seemed even colder with the ocean winds. There was another bar nearby, one where they could both enjoy a drink without the risk. Under the cover of night, he nearly disappeared amongst the rocks and shadows yet he still moved amongst them with the confidence of someone who walked this path regularly.

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