Shadewood Just did a bad thing

Luck kept its distance as he relied on skill and training. He did not need luck, as it was for novices, and he was far from it. The extra skin on his hackles, the little bit that all wolves had, allowed him leeway to turn in her grip, and more importantly, to reverse it. Except where she would have his nape, he would have her throat. 

Pulling a swivel beneath her, ivories sprang for her windpipe, but no force came from his grip- instead he lurched forward and toppled her flatly on her back, his dark kiss still where her pulse lay. The urge to simply crush it ran strongly through his body, and for a second, he squeezed lightly on it just to feel the resistance, to feel her tremble beneath him, but instantly he released her. He would not kill her...

for she was perfect.