She touched the throne gently, and when she pulled away her fingers were painted black with soot. No longer would she be forced into interactions with the Lycanthropes that surrounded her, who covered her soul with blood and entropy.
•
His eyes opened slowly, taking in the morning orange and pink painted sunrise. Feeling his hips grind into the mattress from an uncontrollable reflex, trying to cause any friction the silk sheets could provide. He knew what this meant, his rut was here.
Being so close to his mate in the castle must have caused his pheromones to think it was the mating season. Even with the distance between them, he could still smell her scent. Calling to him, making his fists clench and the urges almost unbearable. Waking up every morning with such an intense craving drove his wolf mad with rage.
Sighing, he turns to his side, slowly getting on his feet to do his daily routine. Being king had its advantages, of course. Not only could he take his time getting ready, but
