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</span></span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><span style="font-size: 12px">For the moment, while she was reliving her nightmare... Cyprian was simply facing a stranger who didn't seem to know the rules, naive in... what he hoped was a short life in his world, and not some grand show of arrogance or ignorance against him. Yet, much like the younger pups in his pack... he had no qualms with teaching a lesson. The bold move to bite at his muzzle had gained her some depth of respect, and some irritation for the stupidity. Their audience had made various sounds, but none interfered or got involved further than their watchful gazes. Refusing to undermine his power or ability, and sure as hell not getting into their line of fire. <br/>
<br/>
The moment he'd felt his teeth sink in, he'd made his aggressive maneuver to get her to the ground without being all too gentle for it. He had no intention of tearing her throat out or killing her unless she push him to that point, but he'd be damned if some newcomer pup was going to undermine everything he stood for and worked his ass for her, to think she could trick and made a fool of him. To think him so swayed by the thralls of a woman in wolf's clothing, or relent to her sucking up to him to gain any measure of trust or leniency. With his deep, guttural growls vibrating from his jaws to her throat, ignoring the way her fur tickled his nose but not the scent that came with it. This close, there was a hint of familiarity mixed with an utter stranger. None he could recognize or place. Even her whine and pawing at his chest didn't quite allow him to let up as he moved his massive paw to step over her, his teeth releasing her for a fraction of a second to simply readjust his hold on her. <br/>
<br/>
In his stance of dominance above her, those eyes shifting to the side of her elongated face, he was persistent. Even with her down to the ground, she'd injured any trust he had in her nature... in her ability to submit to him. He wasn't all that sure that she would take the hint and stay down without any further tricks or retaliations. His continuous snarling and lifting of his lips continued, his gaze remaining on her as he waited for any sign of truth in her trickery...<br/>
<br/>
Yet, he had no choice — at least in his eyes — to release her. While some may argue him a monster, Cyprian Deacon believed in honor among wolves. To attack, or in this case continue to attack, another wolf mid-change was the equivalent as a kick to the nuts. A low blow, and a cheap shot. Disrespectful, dishonorable and petty. Since the very beginning of the Nyctimus bloodline, the act of treason against him from his kin.. There were a great deal of believes that sang true to his heart. A wolf who would stoop so low to attack another in their most vulnerable state — mid-change — was a distrustful, disgusting creature with no honor, no pride. <br/>
<br/>
It was her cries and whines of pain and agony that finally got the large black wolf to release her throat, his head lifting to peer down at her. He stepped back some, but not much. However, no attack was made toward her as she struggled with her shift. Instead... he observed. It was clear to him how strongly she fought against her own self, even when it came to shifting back to what he assumed she believed was her true self from the display with Angie and Roman. Towering over her even on all fours, he remained as he was with his curiosity holding him still. It wasn't until she was nothing more than a woman laid upon cobblestones that he looked, and <i>truly </i>looked at her face. As curiosity turned to disbelief, the blatant surprise in golden eyes that widened slightly and lowered the snarling lips over sharp teeth as he stared her. <i>No... it can't be.... </i>A face he'd been sure had died, a ghost drudged up from the past that was made of skin and flesh, a beating heart. His pure shock was just the distracted to abuse, to collect her bearers and run. <br/>
<br/>
Roman didn't seem to understand why his Alpha just stood there like he'd seen a ghost, a frown cutting through the grisly beard on his face as he looked at him. "Do you want us to go get her?" <br/>
<br/>
The animal's golden eyes lifted to his second in command, unable to communicate verbally but a firm, obvious shake of his head was even for Roman to understand. This was his business to deal with. His eyes drifted to the crowd, broken apart by some that was staring after the naked running woman and some who was looking at Cyprian still in his true form. His lips peeled back in an authoritative snarl that made him lower their gazes and drop down to a crouch with a forward bow of their heads, a submissive show revealing their necks as he looked up at Roman and nodded. Turning on all fours, he tore through the break of the circle to give chase to the scent that seemed to be locked in his nose. He could hear Roman barking orders for the rest to stay where they were, while Angie was staring after Cyprian with confusion but knew better than to go after him. <br/>
<br/>
Four paws thumped at the ground as he ran, chasing the scent she left behind in the wind down the mountain, following her trail and charging through the city. Some hardly reacted to the massive black wolf, while some gasped in shock and scrambled away from the beast tearing through their town. He didn't stop, staring ahead as he kept running, running, running after a ghost. As her scent mingled with sea salt and ocean breeze, he slowed as his paws sank into the sand that seeped between his toes. Padding over the sand, his head turned from one way to the other, his nose turning down to focus more on her scent than the air around him. A predator stalking prey he had no wish to kill for the moment. He didn't need to track her long before her form illuminated in the moonlight cut through the scenery like a sharp knife. <br/>
<br/>
Summoning the change in him, it hardly took anything at all as he submitted to it — the only submission you could receive from Cyprian, was the change between wolf and man. As bones shifted quickly and the fur receded back into olive tanned skin, he rose easily through the transition of form and crouch to his feet. Stark naked with no care in the world for it, like Adam before modesty became an issue. A natural tan from Greek heritage didn't compare to the shock of voluminous black hair, the thick dark brows set in what seemed a permanent brood and the razor-sharp angles of his facial features that contrasted some with the fullness of his lips. Athletic in tone, even his walk over the sand was relatively graceful, lithe and athletic with more definition in muscle than mass. Standing tall, but not overly so at 6 foot 2 inches, his approach was slow as he stalked closer to her. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised you survived. I was sure you'd die from the change." If there was any question if he remembered her, even after that shocked stillness of his form before, those words that came out would give a more definitive answer. </span></span>