Atticus’ brow arched upward, and a devilish grin that fit handsomely upon his face, came to his lips. There was no better feeling than having Siya’s body next to his own, and having her speak of even greater things to yet come. The dark, and yet shimmering suggestiveness in her large eyes sent his hair to standing on end, and the demons on his flesh to jeer and hoot in silent abandon. 

“That sounds wonderfully necessary.” Atticus said, bending down to kiss the tiny vampire upon her neck, just below her ear. He added just a hint of his infernal magic to his touch, adding a note of his own promise to the one evident in Siya’s voice. Being an incubus did not always mean he was the toughest of strongest in the room, but at times there was no other creature more suited to the task. This thought set his crimson eyes to shining. 

He allowed Siya to pull him along, the rest of the world and its problems completely forgotten in the all-encompassing wake of her hips. The food and the fuel it would provide did in truth sound perfectly splendid, especially for the purpose Siya had so intended it to fulfill. However, in that moment Atticus’ stomach was not on the forefront of his thoughts. It had been almost a year since he had spent that one momentous night with Siya. A night filled with more lascivious pleasure than he had known to exist. 

Atticus stopped, tugging on Siya’s hand. He bent down to her, his eyes now gleaming a beautiful cherry fire upon her face.

“The food can wait.” 

In one fluid motion, Atticus bit down hard upon his own lip. A trickle of blood ran into his mouth and down his chin. With his hands, he took Siya’s cheeks, drawing her face to him, and pressing his lips to her own. 

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[u][i]Aislinn Hoyle[/i][/u]

Aislinn’s ears perked up in surprise. She had never met a wolf with no pack and no bloodline. There were certainly lone wolves in the world, but not often ones that could not trace their lineage. Perhaps that was what she was smelling, or [i]not[/i] smelling. Her giant head cocked to the side, and Aislinn decided that she was intrigued by this one, this Victoria Blasko.

“We shall be pack mates then. If my brother trusts you, there is no more sound an endorsement. As for Ragnarök…”

The old wolf bent down to the red-haired Victoria, her muzzled face somehow achieving a conspiratorial expression. “…I am not aware of the signs either. However, I believe that this coming of the end times is not reaching its speed through natural forces. It is being accelerated.”

Aislinn drew a clawed finger over the white scar upon her neck. 

“When I received this gift, just scant hours ago, I was granted a vision inadvertently through my assailant. While I lay dying, I saw blurred images of the god-wolf Fenris being released from his bonds by a white werewolf. I saw Sköll and Máni chasing the Sun and Moon across the sky. And I saw another being, a lady of the north, a lady of ice and snow. She was there, in the end, when she should not have been amongst the living.”

Aislinn paused, rubbing at her scar now, her eyes distant with recollection. 

“It was her, this Lady of Ice, that did this to me. Not by her own hand, but by her command. I cannot say for sure, but I have a feeling that she is the one moving to start the beginning of the end. She wants Fenris to be released, though to what end I cannot fathom.”

The werewolf’s eyes now looked to Veti, the amber orbs piercing. “We must stop this, Victoria. Fenris cannot be allowed to be freed. The god-wolf is revered by our kind, but he is bound for a reason. The world is not ready for his release, and all the destruction that will follow in his wake.”