It had been a few days since that decidedly unfortunate death of the Nightshade Alpha, Frost having so prepared both himself and his pack for any act of revenge or retribution that other pack might seek to deliver and yet, so far, the nights were quiet and the air still. He anticipated Tobias. Raven's fear of him assured the man she would be the least likely to come, especially alone. Alexis too would lack the spine and perhaps even the motivation. That Tigress he had met a handful of times was often absent and surely hardly knew of the news and yet Tobias alone remained a relative unknown. Little about that lanky deviant ever seemed to add up. Nadya too, was another factor. She was perhaps the only one he truly cared to see from that pack. Her opinions and thoughts mattered, her reaction mattered, somewhere within him something akin to disdain seemed to turn, sitting heavily upon his chest. It was a strange emotion, something that danced dangerously upon that line of regret and yet his own stubborn pride refused to let it fall over that proverbial edge. He had not meant to kill Tetradore. Not truly. Yet in the literal heat of the moment he had, somehow, lost complete control of his own ability in a way he never had before. To burn the man to nothing but ash was beyond what he believed himself capable off. He had a tendency, he supposed, for that cruelty when that lust of a battle got hold of him. It was partly the fault of the very beings whom had created him, surely, they had designed a war horse and he had become one and yet too- much of that blame was that of his own temperament, that uneven balance, his lack off control and yet how he had unleashed so much power remained to be seen. It did not add up. Not truly. Yet the man was dead all the same.

One hand reached easily from what remained of his drink, Frost leaning back in his chair, that book within his lap though largely unread. Edie had finally retired to bed after he had assured her he needed nothing else. Claire and Scarlett remained asleep after patrolling last night, the stallion himself having agreed to stay up tonight now that his wounds were largely healed thanks to Edie's ability, his own healing and too his own powers to transfer those wounds to any unfortunate soul that walked passed. Flushing Tetradore's venom from his shoulder had been the most painful process, one he is assured he would have been incapable of achieving were it not for Edie's assistance and yet with his wounds almost entirely healed now the snowy-haired man had resigned himself to simply keeping watch over what was his tonight. Even if that silence so seemed to prompt thoughts he cared not to consider. Nadya lingering within his mind as he contemplated just how or what to tell the woman. For all his inability to love- or so they said- a part of him felt something so desperately potent for that woman, his own girlfriend, more or less- that one significant relationship he had ever held within his life and he had, perhaps, so terrifically destroyed it. Was that not what he had warned Edie of that night so long ago? That everything he touched he destroyed? Even himself. Slowly. The man hardly caring to dwell on it now.

It was that sudden realization of another mind, awake and active, that seemed to sieze his attention suddenly. A mind he is assured he would know anywhere if only for the amount of time he had spent within it. He had heard her joy and happiness and worry and fear and yet these thoughts were permeated with something far stronger, his own eyes narrowed slightly as he took that moment to finish what remained of his drink before easing himself from his chair. For all they might say of him he was hardly a coward and yet a part of him was loath to have this conversation. Emotion ruined everything. He had been a fool to let himself feel it in the first place. It always ended like this. She would...leave, of that he was sure. The only being he had ever felt any true affection for outside his own family and he alone had so managed to sever it. How could he not have? She would not forgive the death of her brother, he regretted it only because of her. If she did not exist then he was assured he would care nothing for Tetradore's death. Just another whom had gotten in his way. Yet she....meant more.

His hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, the man strolling that eternally long-seeming walk to his front door, opening it now to eye that black panther upon his front lawn, her tail lashing and yet it was the anger in her thoughts that lashed at him far more. Frost, for the first time, allowing the violet of his gaze to look away from her in some instinctive effort to calm her- though he was hardly fool enough to drop his guard. His own affinities stirring beneath the surface, ready to defend himself if need be and yet he held little ability to bring harm to the woman he had so found himself very much enraptured by even if it had taken him far too long to realise it. His words, this time, were offered right to her mind alone.

Are you going to allow me to explain, Naja? Are you capable of listening? Are you truly going to remain in that form?

It was better, with women he so often found, to press upon the outskirts of the issue before diving right into it, seeking to at least diffuse some of her anger and encourage a return to her safer, human form and yet too he so feared seeing those emotions painted across a human façade. He fell silent for a moment, features frowning, indecision seeming to touch his features beneath that snowy hair. He had one chance perhaps- to reach her with those words before she either attacked him or fled. Words he had so come to decide, she need hear.

I didn't mean for him to die.

f r o s t
we built this city on broken glass