“Yield,” Russel growled after fending off another of Drake’s lame attempts at an attack. Russel dodged it easily and then snaked one arm forward, catching the smaller werewolf by the throat and hoisting him off the ground without any difficulty.

Drake’s eyes flashed brightly with anger. He struggled against Russel, clawing at his arm, but it didn’t do him any good at all. Russel didn’t let go and only tightened his grip.

“Yield!” he shouted, louder and so violently it came out as a deafening roar. “So help me, Drake, I will send you back to your father in pieces if you do not stop this.”

Again, he tightened his grip and, this time, Drake’s eyes widened in sudden terror as all of his air got cut off. There was an ugly moment where the scrawnier werewolf slapped at the arm holding him in a frantic, last-ditch effort to free himself, before finally giving in. He gave a jerky, spastic nod.

“I…,” he gasped. “Y-yiel…y-yield.”

Russel kept him held up in the air for a few more seconds, trying to judge Drake’s seriousness. Yielding a match between two werewolves only to immediately renege and attack again was considered a crime. Ordinarily, Russel wouldn’t have to worry about that but ordinarily, he wouldn’t be deep in the human kingdom fighting a rogue werewolf raiding party all by himself. Also, Drake was absolutely the type to take advantage of that knowledge.

“Swear it,” Russel snarled. “Swear you yield and will depart this place immediately.”

Drake couldn’t talk anymore but he nodded his head yes vigorously. His eyes still spewed hatred at Russel but he knew he was beat.

Russel started to shift back into his human form and as he did, he let go of Drake. The scrawny wolf fell to the ground, shifting back into his human form too. Drake had already been wearing torn, ripped-open clothing but now Russel’s was in a similar state.

“Go back home, Drake,” Russel said. He stood confidently, arms crossed over a well-muscled chest Lola couldn’t help but notice. “The humans aren’t going to like what you’ve done here. Your father will most certainly need to prepare for some kind of retaliation. Better run along now and beg his forgiveness.”

Drake didn’t say anything to him, he just glared at Russel with murderous rage. The other wolves followed without a fight. Lola came to stand next to him but didn’t talk.

“You think they’ll try to circle back?” Lola asked.

“If he was smart, no,” Russel answered, still watching the retreating wolves. “But Drake isn’t what I would call smart. Or anything close to smart. He is ruled by the wolf and the wolf’s instincts. It makes for a vicious little twit.”

He laughed a little at that and then turned to her, doing a small, gentlemanly bow before taking one of her hands and putting it gently to his lips.

“And now formal introductions are in order, I believe.” He stood back up and tipped an imaginary hat. “My name is Russel Polver, son of Carter Polver, King of the majestic and proud Oclan Werewolves, fifth in line for the throne. It is quite the pleasure, Ms…?”

He waited for her to supply her name.

“Uh..,” she said, hesitating slightly at the absurdity of his introduction. “Lola here. Lola Tarnvol…d-daughter…”

She couldn’t get the rest of what she wanted to say out. Her throat wanted to close up just thinking about her parents. It brought the final moments of their lives to the forefront of her mind. Flames and fire everywhere. Drake and his wolves laughed as they burned. Her father screamed at her to run even as fire chewed at his flesh.

She started crying again, unable to help it.

Russel stared down at her, his heart hammering inside his chest now. It had nothing to do with fear. In fact, this feeling inside him was much worse. The feeling of hope dying. The hope that this girl he found under a tree, a girl he had become quite enamored with, would be anyone but her.

Anyone but Lola Tarnvol.

The woman he’d come all this way to kill.