It stood beneath the dying light of dawn, a creature carved out of shadow and flame. A wolf, massive and breathtaking. Its coat shimmered black with streaks of silver that rippled with every breath, like smoke twisting under the moon. Muscles coiled under its fur, quiet power in motionless form.
But it was its eyes that haunted her, molten gold, ancient and aware, burning like two suns caged behind a beast’s gaze.
Eyes that had looked at her.
No, no, it didn’t look at her. It looked through her.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?”
Dean Gerard Rowan’s voice cracked through Lilith’s trance like a whip. The image of the wolf shattered, replaced by the sharp scent of parchment and old silver that filled his office.
Lilith sat across from him, back straight, expression unreadable, hand
