Emily's POV
I had heard him before I had seen him.
No, his voice, his presence. That airshift which occurs when a dominating wolf moseys into an area that is not his. The energy of the keep was different, how a room is when there is a storm brewing outside the window. Subtle. Unmistakable.
I laid aside the cup I had been holding and glanced at the main gate.
Marcus rode in on a dark stallion, and two of his men warriors followed him. He was not in fighting attire. No armor, No weapons raised. A deep charcoal riding cloak was over a dark tunic, and so direct and leisurely was his pose as though a man who had been anticipated and knew it.
He had not been anticipated.
A number of the pack members had ceased whatever they were doing. I could see the interest passing through
