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*It was ironic, really. Malachi, constantly criticizing the brutish ways of werewolf life, and yet here he was with a werewolf tied up on his own silken bedsheets. Perhaps it made him a brute himself, but who would call him such with his wealth and status to carry him? Malachi chuckled at the thought of anyone even wanting to defy him, setting his glass down on the bedside table.*
"All that squirming and not an inch of leeway," *Malachi taunts, running his fingers over the intricate knots holding you together.* "Those werewolves teach you so much about raising your fists and yet you can't even undo a knot. A pity, really."
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