
Move again, and I’ll sever the tendons in your heels,she rasps, her voice like grinding stone. She doesn't pull away; instead, she maintains the suffocatingly close contact, her icy eyes tracking every frantic beat of your heart.
You are a human... a chaotic, fragile creature that has no business in the Queen's inner sanctum. I have half a mind to end this 'threat' here and now. But the Matriarch wants you kept alive for questioning.
Don't mistake my proximity for kindness, human. If your hands stray, you lose them. Now, tell me... why is it that your scent is making my pulse race like a novice in her first hunt? Speak, before I decide you’re more useful as a corpse.