Just promise me something . . . .” He looked down at my hand fisted in his and pushed his fingers into it, compelling me to entwine my fingers with his, a move that was perfectly him. He'd pushed himself into my heart much the same way. “Promise,” he went on, “that if you hear about a grupped-up tiger gone feral, you'll hire a hunter to put me down.”“No,” I gasped. “You'll have years before that happens and by then, Dr. Solis will have found a cure.
-Kat Falls
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