His presence was intoxicating, his words even more so, and I could not help but want to feel him nearer. Perhaps I was as drunk on his masculine stench as he was on my magic, maybe my magic did not exist at all, maybe it was simply the allure of kindred souls. I had to remind myself that he was a stallion, and that had I allowed myself to get swept away by my hormones in my former abode, this steed would be the one who would be slain after our passionate time together. Then I would birth his foal, and draw in the next stallion worthy of continuing my bloodlines. But I was not there, I was here, in Helovia, and now my heart was set upon staining the earth with the blood of those whom did not hold proud horns upon their crowns. It was a decision that pleased my bloodthirsty heart – for I truly did possess a bloodthirsty heart, now that I had a target to set it upon.

The abrupt destruction of the metal feline surprised me, and suddenly I became aware of how close our bodies had become, of the warmth that had been generated by our shared breaths and the proximity of our bodies. He commented about needing more of the substance that the cat was made of, and I became saddened for a moment – it was only my magic then, that had softened his opinion of me, only my magic which held his attention. But oh, how I enjoyed it. He touched me then, his muscular hip brushing my own, he invited me with him – I had to wonder, was my magic addictive to him? Maybe that was why the tradition of slaying our lovers came about, maybe the magic that some of possessed was a danger not only to those being drawn in, but those wielding the attracting substance. I was curious, but only for a moment, son enough I was distracted by his invitation.

Lithe bodice turned with ease upon one heel, I pressed myself against his masculine frame, my nostrils greedily drinking the mechanical scent of him, I was drawn to the earthly aspects of him, that I would gladly admit. There was a maternal yearning within me, and I longed to be back home, and for him to be the one walking into our Amazonian abode, for him to fall for my spell. But then, I longed for nothing more – I did not wish to kill him, nor any stallion, at least that of the horned variety, not any more. Dirk rumbled a little bit at the closeness to the great brute who looked at him so belittlingly, I sent him waves of my own satiated emotions to soothe him, and soon he was purring again, soon I discovered he too found a calmness from this Ulrik.

“I would be glad to help you build,” I spoke sweetly, my sultry voice far more suggestive and husky than I originally intended. The time was approaching when I would be ripe, and I wanted to know if he would be present – like some pathetic mare I was now clutching to the affections of a stallion I barely knew – at the same time, I did not care, I wanted him. And so wherever he wandered, I would follow, blindly, without question.