Aisha sat frozen on the edge of her bed, heart hammering, every nerve screaming at her to run. She could feel him long before she saw him move. Callen stepped closer, deliberate and slow, his eyes calm yet unreadable.
Then the impossible began.
A subtle ripple ran over his shoulders, his muscles tensing unnaturally. His clothes stretched, buttons straining, seams groaning. He didn’t rush—every movement was careful, almost painfully slow, as if the act itself hurt him.
Aisha’s hands flew to her mouth. “No… no, this isn’t real…”
But it was.
His form shrank and stretched at the same time. Fur dark and glossy began crawling over his arms, his back, his chest.
His fingers lengthened into claws, nails sharp and curved. His jaw lengthened, ears slid up, pointed. Even the air seemed to quiv
