-Lucien Draven:
Elara paled. "A hellhound?"
Ronan didn't take his eyes off the tree line. "Yeah. Big, fast, nasty bastards. Hard to kill."
"Hard for you to kill,*" I murmured.
Ronan shot me a sharp glare. "You wanna be useful, fangs? Be my guest."
I ignored him. My attention was on the forest. The presence I felt—it was growing closer, heavier, like a storm rolling in.
And then, between the trees, red eyes gleamed.
Elara sucked in a breath. "Oh, shit."
A massive, shadowy form emerged from the darkness, its fur like smoke twisting in the wind. It stood taller than any normal wolf, its body rippling with unnatural muscle, claws digging into the earth as it owned it.
The hellhound let out another growl, low and hungry, its breath coming out in waves of steam.
And behind it, stepping into view, were the vampires. Three of them.
"Great," Ronan muttered, rolling his shoulders. "This just keeps getting better."
