" Wolves boiled out of the forest, circled the meadow, glowing eyes fixed on the three people dodging branches that were hurtling through the air. Margaret screamed and ran. Harry took off blindly, and Hans lost his footing and dropped to his knees as the earth heaved and shook again.
“Raven.” Mikhail materialized beside her, fear for her clawing at him. He ripped the jeans away so he could see the extent of her injuries.
The earth rolled again, split the meadow open. Mikhail clamped his hands over the pumping holes in a vain attempt to stem the terrible flow of blood. Jacques shimmered into view, then Eric, Byron. Tienn arrived, and Vlad.
Gregori, his second in command, Mikhail’s most trusted hunter, blasted out of the sky toward the three human assassins surrounded by the wolf pack. There on the meadow, with the world coming to an end, he took the shape of a huge black wolf, a wolf with the hungry, mad eyes of retribution.
“My God.” Jacques was on his knees beside Mikhail, gathering handfuls of rich soil. “Go, Byron, for the herbs. Hurry.”
Within minutes they packed Raven’s wounds with their poultices. Mikhail ignored the others, cradling Raven in his arms, his large body bent protectively to shield her from the onslaught of the pounding rain.
Mikhail’s entire being was concentrated, focused on only one thing. You will not leave me, he commanded. I will not release you. "

― Christine Feehan , Dark Prince (Dark, #1)