She clasps her hands behind her back and bends
forth to observe her latest victim. The pink splotches
speak volumes. A thin, dark eyebrow hitches a
fraction, before Isabela lets her voice dip low.
It slithers through the air between them.
“My, my.” She purrs, like a lioness; all heat
and spice. “Have I touched upon a raw
nerve?” Her mouth curves into an
infuriating smirk. “I’m sure this is the most
that you have been touched in aeons.”
Bright green eyes, practically ablaze with anger,
stare back at the dark-haired woman. She bristles
once Isabela leans in, but dares not pull away – the
first sign of weakness would be admitting defeat.
“If you know what’s good for you –and considering
your track record, I have my doubts–” she hisses,
teeth clenched. “You’ll keep your distance."
She’s neither confirming nor denying Isabela’s claim.