𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xlvi. heeded warnings.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖'𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖. He's slightly bruised from pushing himself too hard, but he's starting to regain all that lost muscle mass. Sweat drips down tanned skin as he paries around an equally sweaty Ronyn, both without shirts, growling with determination to pin the other down. Morrow attempts to strike in a flurry of shadowed wings, but Ronyn rolls, dodging his friend all while releasing a jubilant laugh.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Since when did the alpha lose his edge?" Ronyn quips, extending his arms out as if to challenge him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Since I died, you shit."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Did you just call me a shit? Gods, you've called me better names than that!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The two have been glued at the hip, and it's been rare to have some time alone these past few days. Every conversation between her and Morrow has been done through the bond to avoid Ronyn's ears. With Morrow recovering, most of their conversations revolve around the bureaucracy of Tabrien, of ensuring those who relocated to the palace are still receiving all the care they can get. He tries to question her about Pailon, but she reminds him that they'll figure that out once he's fully himself again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His answer is already clear as day. She won't be leaving, not under his watch.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At least that part of him is returning. Morrow's been extremely dominant and authoritative these past few days, slewing out throngs of orders and demanding updates on the terrans and the blight. He walks these corridors again like he owns them, like a true king defending his lands.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Down below, Morrow twists Ronyn's biceps and hauls him to the ground. "That's what happens when you open your fucking mouth."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You know I let you win, sunshine."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You say that every time you lose. You need a better excuse."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow releases his hold on Ronyn, letting the beta stand back up in full. Would it be selfish of her to desire a moment alone with her mate? A true moment? Perhaps it's her new bond to him, but the need to be with Morrow, to fortify her sacred union with him, keeps her in a constant heat. Even with one glance of him with sweat glistening on toned flesh, she can't stop her explorative imagination. She and him can't do much behind closed doors at night, mostly because there's a Ronyn-sized wolf sleeping at their feet. During the day, Morrow's busy regaining control of his alphaship with Ronyn at his side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎As if Morrow could read her thoughts, his meadowed hues snap upward to the balcony, glowing in the midday light. She grips the railing tight, her nails digging into the marble carvings as a deep lust-filled growl dominates her mind. Even her creature seems to submit at the immediate sound.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Soon, he purrs to her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He said the same thing five days ago.