His deep voice was filled with a sense of authority that could not be ignored. Compared to the average werewolf, Lycan's aura and sense of oppression is much higher. There was a clear sense of danger and impatience in his words, which made the werewolves present break out in a cold sweat.
The speaker had his back to the crowd, and in the corner, I could only see his body rising above the back of his chair.
His hair was thick and dark, his black cloak hanging from his legs, his strong legs wrapped in black boots, which looked like silent beasts in the candlelight of the party. In his right hand he held a clear goblet. A black-clad Lycan stood beside him and served him wine in silence. The red liquid flowed slowly into the glass, as if it were blood.
Just a glance, I do not know why, but
