Magnus
"I'd say this kind of greeting borders dangerously close to an invitation to war," I bite out as I shift into my human form. My blood is boiling so fiercely that even the biting frost of the night dares not touch me.
The bastard smirks, finally halting that infuriating clapping fit, and I can tell my calmness grates on him more than my rage ever could.
"Isn't it a little late to talk about wars," he drawls, "when you're the one who invaded my lands and attacked my people? Against the Lycan King's direct command?"
He spits out the last question like a weapon, but it doesn't pierce me. I merely scoff, raking my fingers carelessly through my tangled curls. "It's never too late to stop, Alpha Windthorne. Hand over the female hostages, and there will be no more war."
