BLESSED BY A BITCH FROM A BASTARD SEED
pleasure to meet you, but better to bleed
Mathias turns toward her and Teiran does not flinch or back away, not from the manic smile on his face or the wild look in his eye. She can see the tension in his body, filling every inch of him, making his muscles taught and prepared. Her sage green eyes take it all in with so much as a glance. It is her job to read a situation, and to do it as quickly as possible. Take too long, make a mistake, and something can go incredibly wrong in a matter of seconds.pleasure to meet you, but better to bleed
His words bite out at her and she stands as statue still as ever, wearing soldier readiness on her shoulders. The man’s words don’t offend, don’t affect her, and her gaze is like brandished cold steel—like the collar around her neck. Then, she takes one step forward, one step closer, placing herself in his space. She knows what he needs.
What she doesn’t know is if he will do it even if she says he can.
So, she provokes him instead.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” and if there is any inflection to her voice other than the grit of sand and the drone of something inhuman, there is no indication of it in her eyes or in her body. She stands toe to toe with him and wears no apprehension despite their size difference, and she tests him, teeters on the edge of his patience. Her only question now is will he take the bait?
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