The laughter of screeching voices filled his ears, choking him. Wolfram tried to escape, but darkness surrounded him. The only thing he could see was death, the torn corpses of his men mocking him. “You won’t ever be rid of us,” the ghosts said. “You cannot escape.” In front of him, a large shadow loomed. The figure of a huge wolf emerged, its eyes burning coals of feral insanity, its fangs dripping with the venom of the virus. Its voice sounded in Wolfram’s head, as clear as day. “You cannot escape,” it repeated. Wolfram tried to gather his strength, but his muscles froze and his powers refused to obey. The wolf lunged forward. It was so close now its putrid stink filled Wolfram’s nostrils. He thought any moment now, he’d fall and die under the razor-sharp fangs. A voice reached out to him. “My Lord!” it said.”My Lord! Wolfram!” Wolfram recognized it as belonging to Klaus, his best, no, his only friend in the world. He clung to Klaus’s words, and the wolf in front of him seemed to hesitate.
What do You think about Two Mates For A Magistrate?
