Versailles felt drained.
The beastly wolf tired her out to the point of exhaustion. She laid in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, as he carried her to their room. The fragrance of fruit and musk hung in the air, creating an alluring scent that caused one's heartbeat to rise.
Ramose carried his mate to the bed, and sweeping the curtains aside, gently laid her down. The serpentine was too tired to make any sound. The soft, cushy, bed made her feel nice and warm. Turning to the side, she snuggled into the warm blankets.
The Werewolf King smiled. He kissed her temple and got off the bed, heading to the rack of robes on the side.
"Light looks good in everything. But I like her better in black." As the only black wolf in the entire Underworld Palace, his mate wearing black would be akin to them matching colors. In a subtle way, he wanted to declare to every beast in the Werewolf Clan that the Serpentine Queen was his.
