He grunted at her.
She licked her plump lips, gathered saliva with her tongue, then spit on him so he would know her smell. He rubbed her saliva on his fingers, smelling it, tasting it. It was pleasing and good.
This is the girl who lived in my heart. She has come here. It is her season.
He got to his feet and took hold of her roughly. She fought and clawed and he threw her down in the nest. He urinated on her to mark her with his scent. Once he did so, she accepted things and did not fight so.
He jumped on top of her and pressed a hand to her mouth and she bit it. He struck her and she scratched him. She seemed to find the play amusing. She watched him as he spread her legs and made ready to take her. He penetrated her and she gasped, grinding her teeth and hissing at him. This and only this is what she had been dreaming of, even before in those times she could no longer remember, she knew she dreamed of this and wanted it and felt it in her blood until it became part of her, the heat that had simmered before but now made her burn.
As he rammed into her, grunting and growling, a light passed through her eyes and in that momentary burst of light there was absolute horror because this was not how it was supposed to be at all, oh dear God, not like this, like this, like this… oh please, Louis it was not supposed to be like this…
But then it was gone and he pumped into her and she squirmed with the feel of it, knowing this was who and what she was and who and what he was, that they were joined in the ancient dance of the heat, his hands wrapped around her neck and her nails dug deep into his flesh and the blood ran and the world swam with tiny black dots and a voice in her head screamed until it became a howling, an atavistic baying, as every cell in her body electrified with primal starving estrus, yes, yes, yes, just like this, just like this, do it faster and faster, kill me kill me kill me—