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Because of my powerful shoulders and stoic nature, I was frequently mistaken for an alpha. But the real reason my body looked the way it did was because I was a Siberian tiger shifter. Our animal forms were so muscular and strong that even omegas of our kind took on those traits.
I couldn't believe it. Dragons. Dragons were real—and they organized a fucking reality TV dating show?
It was far too late to deny it—I was smitten with this big kitten.
Seriously, Crimson? Getting horny on TV? This wasn't like me at all. I was calm. Collected. Taylor did something to me. I felt deranged over him.
"I forgot you've never been with a dragon," he admitted with a grin. "Which is good. Because I would've torn him limb from limb." "Thank you for mauling my hypothetical dragon ex."
"Unless you want me to rip them with my teeth," he muttered, "I suggest you take your clothes off."
"Why did the rest of us even bother again?"
I felt frenzied, like Taylor was fucking my hole with a ten-inch dildo instead of putting his fingers in my blazer.
I growled. My instinct as a tiger to lick my newborn vigorously until it was clean and dry, but since his alpha father was a damned dragon, I had to wait until it was completely free of the shell.