Unlike the twins, this newborn didn't have purple hair. He had a thick, silken shock of pure, silver hair that matched Damar's exactly.
And when his tiny eyelids fluttered open, two fierce, glowing emerald-green eyes looked back at me—with the sharp, slit pupils of a serpent predator.
But while he fiercely resembled Damar, he didn't have the pale, translucent skin like Lyra did. He had inherited my warm complexion. And as he squirmed against my warmth, a thick, beautifully striped tiger tail swished out from beneath the blanket, though his head was perfectly round with no tiger ears.
A silver-scaled tiger in human form. A perfect blend of the jungle and the deep river.
"He's perfect, Damar," I breathed, my voice a tired whisper as I lightly stroked the baby's soft silver hair.
Damar lifted his head, his emerald eyes locked onto his son with an intensity that could have melted the winter ice outside.
