The Bane And The Alpha Beast
Ronan
The moment she shifted, I forgot how to breathe.
I’d seen wolves my entire life. Hundreds of them. Every color the gods had bothered to invent—silver, ash, bone, dusk, storm. I’d even seen white wolves before.
But nothing like this.
She stood before me solid and seamless, her fur so purely white it almost hurt to look at—no cream, no yellow, no shadow of warmth anywhere in it. Just moon-bright, snow-born white, like she’d been carved from winter itself instead of born into it.