There wasn’t much of anything he could say that would have any sort of effect on Ethan. The wolf was pure wild, and did what he wanted. Words like ‘no’ and ‘stop’ fell on deaf ears, or made him laugh in a wickedly evil way, but certainly didn’t serve the desired purpose.
He licked at the blood, tasting the mix of iron-y richness and confused fear, pheromones and scents on the air that humans and even many fae would never pick up on. When he leaned back, Rowan’s face was a mess of smeared blood and saliva.
“Pretty mess,” Ethan cackled as he looked at him. “It’s too bad you don’t have much meat on your bones.” He looked down, over Rowan, and then back up. “I’m sure you’ll still taste good.” Especially the heart, Ethan was a fan of heart’s, especially when they were still warm and beating.