Command of the Wolf
When Anthony kicked back his chair, pushing himself to his feet with his wings widening in a display to match Mischief’s, I gasped at the beauty and glory.
These were angels, my mind supplied in awe, and centuries old. I knew it, and yet the truth of it only showed through in flashes. What would they be like in battle? I thrilled with the thought of having them by my side.
“Dying?” Anthony’s eyes narrowed, glowing as brightly as Mischief’s. “Has that no meaning to you?”
Suddenly, I was cold. My head jerked back, as I whispered, “Dying?” Mischief looked at down at me, and I must’ve looked as stricken as I felt
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