Claimed By The Alpha Biker
“Why no tracks, no scent, no trace of—”
“Because it doesn’t walk,” Blaze interrupted.
“…What?”
He turned slowly in place, scanning the sand like it might blink.
“Not above ground.”
Oh.
Gods.
“You’re saying we’re—”
“Walking on its back,” he finished.
My stomach twisted. I swore the sand beneath my boots tightened.
Like muscle.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
Blaze didn’t answer right away.
He lifted his hand between us and underneath the moonlight, his index finger changed. His finger lengthened with a wet, unnatural whisper of sound. Bone reshaped. Skin pulled tight. A claw curved outward where flesh had been.