The nine-tailed lass’ eyes widened as she spun at the sound of a voice, ears pricking. There in front of Hazel stood a massive man, pelt a mix of starry and dark. The male’s crimson orbs, red like blood, seemed to bore into Hazel’s very being. She sucked in a breath. “Well, well, what do we have here? A lost little lamb wandering these icy halls?” She felt a smile creep onto her face, anticipative and wanting. The newcomer reeked of danger, of a kind of false charm. “Oh, darling. I’m afraid I am not a . . . lamb.”
“Tell me, my dear, what name do you go by? Surely someone as captivating as yourself must have a name as enchanting as their presence.” Hazel’s breath caught in her throat as the male leaned ever closer, eyes glinting.
“My mother named me Hazel,” she purred at him. “But you could call me any name you wish.” She flicked her banner in the air, grinning at him as he sat down. She wasn’t a fool - she noticed the grim, frightening aura he gave off. But really, this just served to excite the girl. She flexed her coral wings a bit, eyes running over the new male’s body. “And do you have a name for yourself?”

“That’s the price you’re payin’ if you want my magic!”