Shadowwyn Moor its the soul that needs the surgery

His jaws gently nipped her tail – so dissatisfying compared to her haunch or shoulder. He craved contact with her, and it was off-putting at how much he actually wanted it. Her brown eyes looked back at him – doe-like innocence reflecting from them, and he felt his heart skip a moment, remembering that he was indeed a taken man, and his mate and children waited for him at home.
 
A few more bounds, and she would be his. His own form would try to gain on her, heading her off, so that he may slow her down – so that he may hold her once more before he would have to tell her of everything he had not. She deserved far better than this – and he would have to let her go.