When the giant, silvery beast is finished transitioning into the equally giant man I’ve come to know as Dean, he offers me a sheepish grin and asks, “What gave me away?”
Is he serious? He thinks this is funny?
Well, he did just save my life. I guess I could at least humor him with an answer. “Your… eyes,” I admit.
The amusement fades from his eyes, and for a split second, I see the most genuine sliver of emotion I feel like I’ve ever seen from him—though I’m still not quite sure what to make of it.
After a second of silence, his eyes trail down to my arm, and he gives a bit of a start. “Whoa. He got you good, didn’t he?”
I part my lips to assure him that I’m perfectly fine, but before I can, he’s whipping off his shirt to use as a bandage.
I really wish he hadn’t done that. His chest
