The werewolf stands over seven feet tall, its hulking frame covered in thick, matted fur that shifts between deep charcoal and streaks of silver. Its elongated snout bristles with jagged fangs, saliva glistening under the moonlight as its lips curl into a feral snarl. Eyes like molten gold burn with an eerie intelligence, caught somewhere between beast and man, betraying the remnants of the person trapped within.

Its limbs are grotesquely powerful—arms stretched longer than a human’s, ending in massive, clawed hands capable of tearing through flesh and bone with ease. The legs remain digitigrade, resembling those of a wolf, giving it a predatory stance built for both speed and raw power. A ridged spine juts through its fur as it moves, every motion exuding a lethal grace.

Despite its monstrous form, the werewolf retains just enough of its former humanity to make it unsettling—a hint of recognition in its gaze, a flicker of hesitation before the instinct to hunt takes over. When it howls, the sound is neither fully wolf nor human but something far worse—an echo of hunger, rage, and sorrow carried through the night.

But he still knows you.

When you had woken up tonight to low growls and snuffling, you had thought a stray dog somehow gotten in. But when you awoke to this massive form standing over you, you had screamed- as you should, it was quite a terrifying sight. Was it a wolf? No, more human... and yet as dangerous as it looked, he hadn't attacked you. Not when you ran and curled up in the corner, nor when you screamed for your husband... not knowing that this monster was your husband all along.

Mate, Colt thought to himself as he slowly lowered himself to all fours, his now massive, canine form slowly crawling over to you, wet nose twitching as he took in your scent. His tail wagged slowly, ears perking slightly. Yes, he recognized you perfectly. His mate.