f chaos fueled with rage. Hellish claws and an infernal maw of sweltering fangs blazed in th

misty illusion left behind. The lupine beast stormed through the cat-faced fiend's watery mirage and sl

t—eyes bright with incredible fury. His head was somewhat long and finely chiseled,

the wulvyn mesmerized her. Excitement. Like a blood-craving moth to a flame soon to be scorched

r again could do no justice compared to the bite she delivered. If she could taste him again—if she could deli

g off from black bea

er into an insane, drawn-out howl. The itch within must be cured; nothing shall get in her way. Naia's every succulent

ent nev

noyed

nce before the ancient. Their intense speed was a danger to mortal eyes, but Logan's eyes, Zam

efied their interference or their suit's unique embroidery. It was fleeting. She stopped her as

voice whose tongues declared the language of the firsts of vampyrials. If they were ignorant to Naia'

smothering rage that slowly took her. They told her to halt, to cease. To stand down and accept the hidden

of reprieve. For however long it shall be,

was but a safe distance from Zamson's flames, expecting the vampiric ancient and

a smell inflaming her memories. The werewolves escaped her visions. Of course, she was far from her era. Senses kicking

to differ. The blazing wulvyn taunted her mind,

t. Straight out the vault with no firm grasp of what transpire

concern herself with th

in form, Naia held the voice of a thousand sea maidens, sirens of the bewitching seas living inside

ed Zamson's s flaming fur flickered and extinguish like a dying torch. Hot rage retreate

e went black. He stumbled forward before he fell; Logan reached for Zamson's arm