8. Of Smoke, Blood, and Cinnamon

~Ciro Thalos Drevyn~

My fangs barely registered the difference between skin and bone as I tore through the throat of the Mirkwood Alpha.

Blood spewed from the gaping wound as I tossed him aside. His body convulsed for a few seconds—then stilled.

This again.

My chest heaved as I lifted my hea...

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