Curse of the Wolves
“Little wolf, I thought I told you to stay in your room.”
“The flames were—”
The second form, much larger than Azrael’s, stepped from the shadows and into my line of sight. Deep in my heart I knew the mountain of a man, with skin and hair as pale as moonlight itself, was Draco.
God of the Lycans.
His eyes, both covered with a sheen that made them glow in the dark, almost like a canine’s, were trained on my face. The warning bells in my head screeched: “Danger, predator, get away fast!”
Bab Populer