“Andrev, no!” Kana cried.
He didn’t hear her, not really. One moment his body was a slow-burn of agony, the next he was lightning, quicksilver, moving through the air faster than a blink. Then he coalesced into anger and hurt, body lupine-sleek and darkly-furred, and he tasted-heard-felt the satisfying crunch of a human spine in his jaws.
Kir was dead. Andrev turned on the blonde woman, rose onto his hind legs, shifted into a form that was neither man nor wolf, that was all strength and all rage, and he flexed his claws.
He smiled.
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