Tharn stepped forward slowly. When he reached the human woman, he shifted his weight and lowered his head, studying her face.
He froze.
Up close, she didn't look like any creature he'd ever seen. Her features were soft in a way their females only had during the end of their adolescent years — but even then, none of them were this… delicate. She was pale to the point of translucence, lashes trembling against skin that looked like moonlit porcelain.
To Tharn, it wasn't the pallor of blood loss. She was an otherworldly beauty almost ethereal.
He exhaled slowly through his nose. Then with a thought, his beast form receded. His human shape took its place, lean and scarred, a hide skirt forming around his hips as naturally as fur.
He crouched.
The baby in her arms was still wailing, little face scrunched tight, tiny claws—no, fingers—curled into Lavayla's pajama top. Tharn leaned in, tilting his head in instinctive feline curiosity.
"A beast baby?" he murmured under his breath.
