My stomach did a violent, nauseating flip. The absolute contrast between my powerful, feral tiger body and this weak, fragile human shell hit me like a slap to the face.
As Arinya, dealing with high-testosterone beastmen felt as natural as breathing. But here? In this body? I felt completely defenseless.
"Don't look so horrified," he murmured, his voice sliding into that smooth, hypnotic silk again. "I am a benevolent creator. If the sight of my true form or this human disguise frightens you, I can easily take on the appearance of the one your soul currently craves. The silver-haired serpent. Damar, wasn't it? I reckon he was your most beloved."
A sharp pang of protectiveness shot through my chest at the mention of my husband's name.
"No," I snapped, my voice cracking but firm. "Don't you dare touch his face. Don't use him for this."
