​🦋 ALTHEA​The world seemed to stand still, his question hanging in the air like a noose—one I would certainly swing from if I didn't find the right answer. I swallowed hard, my throat working past a thick, dry lump of fear. Beyond the borders of the werewolf races' territory lay the lands of other races, but I was neither witch nor fae. He had caught on to one lie already; I would not dare attempt another.
​"I don't know why—" I began, only to be cut short by the Hell Hound's curt, frigid command.
​"Strip."
​My eyes widened as the tendrils returned, creeping over my skin with an oily, invasive touch. Not here too— I pleaded with him, but he remained unmoved. "I have no trust in your kind, cur," he said, his voice flat and cold as the stone beneath us. "You survived something that should have killed you. Which means you are hiding something. A marking. A spell. Some trick your mother taught you."
