“Ugh, not a wolf,” he corrected quickly, scrunching his nose a bit in distaste. He leaned in to meet her halfway, let her get the good look she wanted. He was close enough that she could bite his face off, or kiss him. Either felt like a possibility, and neither bothered him too much.
“Wolves think they’re so fucking special. They get all the movies, all the swooning romance novels,” he sneered. “I come from somewhere a lot more exotic than that, though how the fuck a hyena came to the Appalachians is anyone’s guess.” He gave her that slow wicked smile again. “I like carrion. A vulture with paws. Must be why I wanted to come eat lunch with you, little Lamb.”
He sat back languidly, popped another piece of meat in his mouth. “I want to see you hang. Suspension is cool as fuck. I always wanted to try it.”