The Heartwood The fall

"Do you know the first thing about tracking? Fuck off, bitch," Peregrine snapped when she showed no sign of backing down from his kill. "You're Bindi, right?" he added when her name suddenly popped into his head. "That's right. You mouthed off about how much you hated Duty's mate," he recalled aloud, his glare just as cold as hers. "I don't think he would appreciate you muddying the waters between us further. This is my last warning, Bindi, before I defend what's mine with my teeth."

To punctuate his very real threat, the wolf stood to his fullest height, ears thrust forward and tail arced and bristling in the air. He peeled back his lips and growled lowly, eyes boring into her. He did not want to harm her but he was a wolf and wolves were territorial, particularly over resources like food. She hadn't put in the work and could stake no claim. Of course, she could try—and that's exactly what she was doing—but Peregrine would quickly put her in her place. She was nearly as tall as him, yet he had at least thirty pounds and a few years' fighting experience on her.