“In the flesh,” the man grinned, revealing pearly white teeth and canines that would never quite recede fully. I had never met a lycan. They were the things of legends, almost. They weren’t natural, as in they were not born. They had to be turned, akin to the human mythology of werewolves. Lycans retained their full wolf form, but with greater strength, speed, and stealth in both skins. The mark of a lycan, though, came at a cost. They were more bound to the moon, as only the moon could turn a wolf to a lycan. The loss of an opportunity to find your mate, and near immortality. Some would not see these as bad things. I, for one, had no mate out there waiting for me, and I had also experienced this world enough to have no desire sticking around forever. For others, the prospect of surrendering your mate, if you hadn’t met them yet, was usually enough to refuse the moon’s gift. For those that had found the one, they were bound to lose their mate sooner rather than later, never to m
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