Kira's venomous maple-colored irises continued to scan the other femme up and down, silently appraising her as the stranger made her case. The snowy woman was somewhat attractive; Kirastasia liked the contrast of her rich chocolate eyes against that backdrop of creamy ivory. She almost looked good enough to eat. Though Kershov's fanciful daughter had found herself drawn to both males and females, for some reason she seemed to find ladies the more attractive half of her species--they were just so pretty!

Pleasure curled Kira's feathery banner over her spine when the stranger gave her a bow. Nobody had ever bowed to her before! Or if they had, they must not have done it right, because Kirastasia surely couldn't remember it. "What do you know of Malignant Felicity?" asked the fishnet punkette--not in a harsh or accusatory way, but genuinely curious. "This isn't exactly the best pack to join if you don't have the guts. We're a little . . . dark." This last part was uttered dreamily. Even from a young age Kirastasia had known that her home was built from shadows and blood. She'd learned to recognize--and revel in--the scent of death. Malignant wasn't militarized like Abendrot, nor was it reclusive like Munashii. Malignant was nightmare seduction and merciless competition. They preyed on the weak.

"What are you good at? What do you plan on doing here?" Totally at ease in her kingdom, Kira settled herself down on her stomach, dainty forepaws crossed over each other as she gazed brightly at the potential recruit.