Modric’s POV
My wolf refused to move away from Mary Ann.
He stood over her with his body blocking every path, black fur dripping river water onto the grass. His chest rose and fell with deep, violent breaths. Every time Lucian or one of the guards took even half a step closer, another growl rolled from his throat.
I tried to force control back.
Move.
The wolf ignored me.
She needs a healer.
He lowered his head toward Mary Ann instead and pressed his nose against her shoulder. Her cloak was soaked, her curls clung to her face, and one of her hands had been scraped during the fall. A thin line of blood ran across her palm.
The scent reached us.
My wolf reacted instantly.
He made a low, distressed sound and licked the injured skin.
Mary Ann froze.
So did everyone watching.
The ac
