A dark-haired man stumbled into the clearing, his clothes disheveled. He held a glinting word that had faint streaks of blood on it.
A tall green-eyed woman closely followed behind him, injured, leaning against one of the tall trees.
Azazeal's eyes darkened, arms tightening around the child's little body.
His aura increased.
The man in front of them shook in fear, overwhelmed by the powerful wolf before him. It was obvious that he was in the presence of a high-ranked Alpha, but his hands tightened over the sword; the determination to protect his mate outweighed his fear.
Elora raised her hands in surrender. "Please calm down! We don't mean any harm, we're just—"
Then the woman saw the boy in Azazeal's arms.
"Adrian!"
She dropped to her knees as if her bones had melted. Tears hurriedly spilled down her weary face.
