A moment to consider.

Cerina’s gaze hovered uncertainly between the wolf-man’s piercing green eyes and the ground. Her thoughts churned—should she look at him? Really look? Or would that somehow betray the flickering unease she was trying to suppress?

Before she could decide, the wolf-man pulled his arm back with a slow, deliberate motion. His posture shifted, chest broadening as he stood taller, muscles rippling beneath his fur with an almost calculated grace.

“If you’re going to stare,” he rumbled, a faint smirk in his voice, “do it properly.”

Cerina’s cheeks burned, her hands clutching the folds of her robe as the hollow in her stomach coiled tighter. Her eyes darted downward, but not fast enough to miss the way his form commanded the space around him. Not fast enough to miss the thick, weasel-sized rod of soft fur that dangled between his powerful thighs. Two faintly red orbs almost as big as apples dangled freely at its base.

The horribly unnatural hunger surged within Cerina. She licked her lips, then panicked.