Sebastian, tired of the excessive talking, leapt into action. As they spoke, he sized up each of the wolves and easily took notice of the weakest one. He lunged for him, knocking him to the ground with one punch. The rest of the wolves charged st him, baring their claws and fangs. They fought, talons cut through flesh, fangs sank into soft flesh, sand blinded glowing eyes. Minutes later, Sebastian had most of them on the floor, groaning. "Come on, wolves," the leader drawled, obviously displeased, "he's just one against eleven of you. Pick yourself up." Sebastian marched to the werewolf whose scent he has caught on one of his dead soldiers. He plunged his hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. Silence reigned for a second then the werewolf leader was leaping for him. He dodged, then aimed for his stomach, throwing a hard punch. His arm bled from the deep wound he received and his legs bled from where the rest of the men, now back in wolf form, tore at his skin. The leader k
Read more