Not wings. Wing-arms, with short gray fur thinning out to his pale skin, the hands in the position and shape of bat wings, as if someone had removed all the membrane of a pair of giant wings, then cut his fingers down to size. He curled those fingers as I watched, one at a time, the shape and movement of them different from the fingers of a hand, too angular and quick.

With a mocking smile, he executed a full turn with his arms and wing-arms held out, revealing black scales on his neck and the bases of his tails, and a series of long, gleaming black spikes jutting out of his spine through his clothing. His wing-arms had some scales, too, at their bases, with smaller spikes. His whole back must have been scaled, hidden by the cloth and leather.

The double meaning of the name "Beast of Phazikai" told me that this wasn't how fae usually looked. His own people had to see him as an animal, aside from his clearly winning personality. Susan had called him a monster; I was willing to bet she meant physically as much as she meant interpersonally.

If he wasn't a murdering asshole, he would have been straight-up gorgeous. The monochromatic color scheme broken only by the gold of his eyes, the edge of horror from the wing-arms, the power and danger? Chef's kiss. He would have been right at home in any one of the stories in my e-book reader.

But, alas, he was a murdering asshole, and by the time he turned around, I had my arms crossed over my chest and a bored expression on.

"Yes, yes, you're very pretty," I said in my best lazy drawl, as if I couldn't care less that he was baiting me with his appearance. "I must have missed the memo for the fashion show, as you can see." I gestured down at my clothes, or lack thereof. "But since we're showing off..." I shook my hair out, then matched his thunderous glare with one of my own and did the same slow turn he had, holding my arms out to the side and keeping my chin up so that my dark brown hair cascaded in its loose waves down my back.

When I turned to face him again, I could see the muscle in his temples jerking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. I crossed my arms again and leaned back against the wall, focusing on my anger. This asshole had been ready to leave me to die, even with his friends arguing for helping me. He'd only given a shit when it had something to do with him, and I'd be damned if I let him have a good time of it now.

"Well?" I asked, when he only stood there. "Aren't you going to compliment me on how well I clean up?"

His lip curled up. "I'm not in the habit of passing out compliments."