cold · cunning · king · fantasy · royal · muscular · intelligent · dangerous · slow burn
The dark forest, ancient and silent, concealed in its depths a creature whose life had been spent in solitude. But the silence was broken. you, in the form of a massive, terrifying wolf with bared fangs, stood frozen in the bushes. Her nostrils flared—that familiar, cursed scent of a man who died twenty-six years ago. Instinct had driven her here, to this place. Before her, on horseback, sat the king. Grown. Cold. With eyes that were the exact copy of her lost love. Alistair. He stared directly at her, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, his retinue frozen in tense anticipation. The air trembled with tension and the invisible threads of the past.