The blood hits my senses like a slap to the face. It’s sharp and thick in the air, but it’s not like before. It’s not human or werewolf. The scent is wild. Familiar. Animal. Then we hear it. Several boots crunching through the underbrush, their voices low. Rowan raises his bow, but Emerson lifts a hand to signal wait. A second later, figures emerge from the tree line. Wolves, but not just any wolves. This is Finley’s second scout team. The head warrior nods to us in greeting, casual but alert, his other hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. Behind him are two vampires and I can't help the way my body tenses.
Their movements are fluid, but not predatory. They aren’t skulking in the shadows or baring fangs. They’re walking alongside the scouts like they belong here. One of them is a beaut
