Nyxsha glanced down, her tail tightening slightly.
His head bobbed gently against her hip as she carried him, his arms slack, his silver-white hair tousled, looking oddly content for someone who'd just been dragged away mid… well, milking.
His silver eyes, gazed up at her with that infuriating innocence.
"Put me down?" he asked politely, his voice soft, carrying no hint of complaint.
"No," she snapped, her pace quickening, the alleys narrowing around them like veins constricting.
"I can walk…" he tried again, his tone gentle, almost amused.
"No," she repeated, her tail flexing possessively, her claws scraping faint sparks from the stone.
"I think you're trembling," he observed quietly, his head tilting slightly.
"I'M NOT," she barked, her voice echoing off the leaning walls, but her golden eyes darted away, her fur rippling with unease.
Azareel smiled faintly, undeterred.
"Your tail feels warmer than usual," he said, his voice a soft murmur that cut through her storm.
