Third Person's POV
"You won't accept it? Humph!"
Dwight growled low in his throat, like an angry wolf. His sulfurous pheromones collided violently.
He glared at Melinda's thin, pale face, his wolf ears slightly forward, about to accuse her of being narrow-minded, yet found himself at a loss for words.
Though "it's never too late to mend," no one says an apology must be accepted.
He sneered, his claws faintly gleaming, "What gives you the right to refuse? What?"
Melinda's voice rose, her tone cooling.
Her voice no longer trembled, cedar pheromones carrying clear oppressiveness, "For favoring your lover and insulting your mate; for being arrogant and self-centered; for betraying your mate and being unfit to be a father; and for claiming to be a gentleman while acting like a petty pers
