The scene that greeted Ren was not a peaceful recovery room.
The Royal Nest—usually a pristine, opulent space filled with piles of furs looked like a tornado had touched down inside a tannery. Clumps of fur floated in the air like snow. A large clay water jug lay shattered in the corner, its contents soaking into a priceless fur rug. The hanging tapestries had been shredded into ribbons that hung mournfully from the walls.
And in the center of the chaos, prowling on top of the ruined mountain of furs, was Kael.
"Oh... wow."
Kael was awake. But he wasn't Kael.
He was crouching on the soft pelts, his muscles coiled tight, every tendon in his body standing out in sharp relief. His breathing was heavy and ragged, huffing out of his chest like a steam engine. His eyes, usually a warm, intelligent amber, were glowing a deep, primal red.
