Goddess, he is beautiful. Marian thought as she watched her father’s steady approach.
She knew that thought was probably wrong, but she could not help it.
Her father was a striking man. Wolves don’t age like humans, so her father still looked young, though he was almost forty-five.
He had no single grey hair in his full thick, wavy dark hair that reached his ears, or in his matching-colored goatee and mustache beard, and his walk was as it had been since his teens – a smooth, animalistic walk of a man who knew he owned the world, and whom the world gave its full respect.
He was the definition of an alpha wolf: powerful, strong, and virile. And he had the added bonus of being uniquely handsome – he had soft features, but they were all balanced out by the hard edges of his jaw, nose, a
