Mistress of the Northern Lands. The Werewolf's Right

“Are you suggesting I become your… toy? Just for a couple of days, maybe?”
“You don’t understand werewolves well, girl. A few weeks won’t be enough for me.”
Daelia swallowed hard. She couldn’t last that long!
And the landscape before her eyes slowly became blurred with a haze of burning.
In the roar of the wind she heard the whistle of sword strikes and cries for help. It howled with a piteous wail, groaned, pleading for mercy… And sticky blood streamed down her fingers—every last drop on the Lady of the Northern Lands’ conscience.
— Why do you need me?
Her question was a pathetic delay of the inevitable.
Behind her came a mocking snort:
— Because I want it that way. And my Pack will appreciate such an interesting trophy.”