Have it your way. The straight black hair, the ever-so-slight uptilt to the edge of his eyes made me bet he'd come from somewhere much farther east. Not right now, I hope. I'm sorry, I said.
I'm not a man, Anita, I'm a werewolf. The bed was unmade, and the blood trail seems to start in the bed. I grabbed a flailing wrist and held on. He wasn't happy about something.
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