As he slept, she wondered what it would be like to waken such a beast, to release that which was coiled inside him like a viper waiting for its victim.
She was not one to toy around with such situations, but like the cats she revered, the curiosity was too much to bear.
She stroked his hair softly, his locks like spun silk as they slid through her fingers. His lips, slightly open in slumber, begged to be savoured. His warm, smooth skin begged to be caressed.
Yet it was not yet the right moment: she would weigh her options, analyze the consequences, then make her move slowly.
Carefully.
Only then would she know if the beast would cherish or destroy her.