The touch of the Lunar Well wasn’t like water. It was like plunging her arm into a vat of liquid lightning.
Astra’s scream was lost in the roar of the Feral Guard. The ten wolves moved as a single, undulating wave of gray fur and yellow eyes, their collective Alpha-pressure slamming into the chamber like a physical wall. Dante was already a blur of violence in the center of the room. He hadn't fully shifted, he was holding onto his human mind by a fraying thread but his body had expanded into a terrifying engine of war. He intercepted the first three wolves mid-air, his claws ripping through muscle and bone with a wet, sickening thud.
"Astra! Get back!" Dante’s voice was a guttural rasp, his amber eyes flashing toward her even as a fourth wolf latched onto his shoulder, its fangs sinking
