The Werewolf Princess: A Fated Mate's Revenge
A dark shape, hunched and still, was partially concealed behind the thick trunk of the largest oak.
Kael let out a low, rumbling growl, a sound that vibrated with an authority that demanded respect. The dark shape flinched, and then, slowly, tentatively, it emerged from the shadows. Elara’s breath hitched. It was a wolf, but unlike the feral creatures she had fought earlier. This wolf was smaller, its fur matted and dull, its posture one of extreme weariness and pain. It moved with a pronounced limp, its hindquarters dragging slightly, and its eyes, when they met Kael’s, were not filled with aggression, but with a desperate, pleading resignation.
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