KAEL POINT OF VIEW

The blood on my hand burned hotter than the wound itself.

Not from pain but from insults.

A thin stream ran down my knuckles where her teeth had broken skin, dripping steadily onto the polished stone floor of my hall. The sight of it, my blood spilled in front of my court, ignited something violent and primal inside me.

She had bit me.

In my own territory before my wolves.

The hall stood frozen in stunned silence. I could feel it, the ripple of shock spreading through ...