Where Wild Things Roam
With perfect aim, he spears the vampire god’s burly henchman, Julian, through the heart and pins his withering carcass to a tree as the weakened Horned God flops to the ground.
What god is this? Jack queries through the link, then gasps as I do, recognizing the velvety black waves of hair, the glimmering aquamarine eyes, the dominant and imposing alpha compulsion in his booming baritone as he shouts across the space between him and the vampire god.
“Get your hands off my mate.”
With grim satisfaction, my wolf chides, See? See what happens when you invoke the right god? You get somewhere.
God? Ian’s become a god!?
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