Kiran hung menacingly over the male, every muscle in his lithe, dark body tense and quivering with the effort required to restrain himself. The veins that threaded through his muscular neck throbbed, standing out in bitterly sharp relief. As though he were moments away from popping an aneurysm. Or worse, someone’s head.
Walker’s vision swam from the impact of hitting the floor, but there was no mistaking what he saw.
Black, leathery wings sprouted from Kiran’s back, making him look like a demon straight from an ancient painting.
Goddess, he’d known that Kiran was powerful – how could he not? He’d seen what his fire could do – but partial transformation? That was practically unheard of amongst shifters of almost any kind, as far as he knew.
So…was it a Kiran thing or a dragon thing?
