Tinuviel

“Anassa senses my fury. For a thundering heartbeat, I’m certain she’s going to attack Jonah and his wolf. And then someone else does it for us. Jonah is there one moment and gone the next. Jonah’s body slams against the wall of the training yard. A second after it happens, there’s a rush of wind, as if death just streaked past me and only narrowly left me breathing. The sheer power I just felt like a glimpse of something primordial … Someone is shouting. Gamma Daegan, I think. The wolves from both packs fall back, parting to give me a view of Jonah’s crumpled body where he’s groaning on the ground. My vision swims slightly as blood pours from my nose. A dark figure is standing over Jonah, shouting. At first, it’s garbled by the ringing in my ears. Then the words come through in a deep, enraged voice. “—you do not touch an Alpha that way!” Stark’s chest is heaving. Cratos isn’t beside him, but he doesn’t need his wolf’s sheer size to threaten Jonah. The menacing way his tattooed hands are clenching and unclenching says it all, like he’s imagining them around Jonah’s throat. “She’s not my Alpha, sir,” Jonah says, but his eyes are averted. “Your Alpha gave you an order not to use your magic on Strategos at full strength, and you disobeyed it!” Stark bellows. His entire pack stirs at the echo of his voice. Some of their wolves’ ears fold back, their heads lowering submissively below their shoulders. Stark’s voice quiets, but only slightly. It’s still loud enough for the whole training yard to hear, laced through with menace.”
― Sable Sorensen, Dire Bound