Third Person's POV
Ulrik's cedar pheromones exploded suddenly, his wolf-transformed knuckles gleaming silver.
He stared at Velda's blood-stained battle armor, recalling how she had recklessly charged for glory on the Southern Border, luring werewolf warriors into an ambush.
Now, here she was, humiliating his family in a sickroom. Old and new grievances surged in his heart.
"Enough!" His palm, carrying the Alpha's aura, struck Velda's right cheek.
The wolf-claw nails left three shallow red marks. "Do you have any respect for your elders?"
Velda stumbled back in shock, clutching her stinging cheek, disbelief etched on her face as she looked at the man who had once taken a knife for her in battle. "You struck me?"
Another slap followed, this one laced with sulfur-tinged, chaotic pherom
