Although he was familiar, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything or anyone until the anger ebbed. She couldn’t even pinpoint why she was so enraged or a constant rumbling growl came from deep in her chest. Or why she was already making plans that included maiming anyone who was stupid enough to unlock the door to her prison. Her body was sore, her throat hurt, and she desperately needed a drink of water to satisfy what felt like a small desert in her mouth. Strips of fabric lay in shreds beside and under her, and her lip bled freely from catching it on a spring when she’d ripped the bare mattress in her holding cell to bits. The man had come in shortly after her rampage to observe. The way he stared, with his arms crossed and shaking his head every few minutes, as if he’d never seen a wolf before. If only he’d give an outlet for her slow simmering fury by putting an arm in the cage or, at the very least, a finger. A musky scent drifted through the sizeable room.
