Slave to the Wolf King
But most of the males, like Cazz, wore stiff, high-collared tunics that fell to mid-thigh, over white shirts that were open at the throat, cream or beige trousers that hugged them like skin, and boots that covered their calves with hard heels that clipped when they walked.
The females—even the older ones who were clearly there to watch over the younger—were so trim and strong. I had always noticed how every wolf, even in their human form, seemed to move with the same savage grace of the animals they inhabited. And now, watching a huge room full of these females in figure hugging bodices, wide or full skirts, and no make up, I was struck again with their sheer beauty.
There wasn’t a wolf aliv
Chapitres populaires