Poor thing.

There’s being in over one’s head, and being utterly submerged. This— told through the tightness in her posture, the spike of apprehension in her stare or the way she’s tangled her legs in a way that does her balance no favors— is undoubtedly the latter. And while no vampire can truly smell fear, there’s recognition in the way his stare shifts slightly lower for a wordless beat, pausing before he pulls her upright once more.

She’d been afraid of him in the alley. More so in his home. There’s a question to be asked, whether it’s his teeth that frighten her, or the lack of certain control his presence provides— or his own monstrosity. The fact that by nature he’s the wolf amongst the herd.

Funny, how much he fights to be feared. And how much he resents it when it comes to him of its own accord.

But that truth he keeps to himself, tucked sweetly beneath the edges of his smile.

His chin dips slightly in a substitute for a proper bow, one thumb nestled gentle as a stray breeze along the inner edge of her palm. The music, after all, has stopped.

“Looks like you’re free at last.”