Maisie's Lycan
The order had barely made it past her lips before I closed the distance, in a split second, and wrapped my hand around her pale neck.
She choked, her feet and hands kicking as I lifted her off the ground by her neck with my, cocking our head as her heartbeat erratically against our palm.
The silver haired girl was long gone, fleeing down the passageways. I let her run. She couldn't outrun death. It would always catch up. I would catch up as soon as I was done here.
A hand closed over my wrist, wrenching my hand off her. She dropped to our feet, coughing, and I cocked my head at the intruder.
His teeth was bared at us, his fingers crushing the bones in our wrist. I smelled the distant royal line in his blood, smelled his strength and his rage. He was a mate of hers. "Get your filthy hands off her."
My gaze lowered to where his hand mapped my skin, before lifting to his. "Presumptuous," I said, and backhanded him.
