The Broken Alpha
She stretched, wriggling in their grip; they just tightened their fingers, pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and smirked at her.
“Attach her to the altar,” said Apollo, the command ringing in his voice.
Peverton moved to stand beside it. His eagerness shone in his hazel eyes, making them widen in excitement as his sacrifice was tethered to the flat stone. His ginger hair crackled, flame-like, about his head; his robes, purple today, rustled about his calves, in that ever-present, unreal wind that seemed to follow him wherever he went.