by R. J. Blain
Crap. Wayne had wanted the virus that badly? “You’re a hybrid?”
The last thing I needed was to tango with another hybrid. I’d gotten the form due to severe trauma and exposure to a spiked virus, which accelerated its development in order to preserve my life.
I didn’t remember much about my stay in the hospital, which had lasted for six weeks and involved reconstructive surgery to make certain I wouldn’t be scarred for life. Between the pixie dust and the drugs, the doctors had kept me incoherent to minimize my trauma.
I still didn’t understand why the CDC had opted to cover my treatments, which would had done worse than bankrupt me. I supposed they’d learned a lot from my case.
My virus did have a mind of her own, and she’d worked hard to keep me alive, breaking the conventional rules of magic to do it. According to the samples, the asshole who’d infected me likely lacked the hybrid form.
“The wolf in question is the alpha of my pack, and the idea was to find out just how far someone needed to be beaten to create a situation where the virus might spike at infection for early-onset. I got the beating of my life, but the CDC learned a lot about how the virus operates. Because James didn’t want to kill me, they figure his virus, once it spread to me, acted accordingly. The longer we fought, the harder it became for James to attack me; his virus viewed me as a part of the pack. James freaked in the final stages of the experiment, as his virus did not want to harm me. We had to stop early as a result.”
“The virus is sentient.” I shrugged. “That seems obvious enough to me.”
“You must have a well-developed virus, then. Mine didn’t start making its opinion known until a few years back. That was after a decade of infection.”
“Mine got pretty mouthy early on, but the bastard who infected me almost killed me.”
“That bad?”
“Yeah. That bad. I spent a few weeks in the ICU, and my virus went into self-preservation mode. The CDC footed my medical bills and gave me the perfume to keep my infection status a secret. I have issues. I don’t want one of those issues being the local lycanthropes aware there’s a single lady in their turf.”
“And you don’t trust lycanthropes because one almost killed you.”
“Right.” In Manhattan, there was no easing out of spots. I waited for my first chance, revved my asshole car’s engine, and took the opening, earning a yelp from Wayne.
My virus liked it so much I put my battered car and his nerves through their paces, weaving through the city and toeing the speed limits.
“What the hell grade of pixie dust did you give me? This should not be fun.”
I laughed at the evidence the dust was doing its job. “I used the kind that gets you into my car and makes you happy about it while I keep you for a weekend and try to get the best leasing terms possible out of you. You’ll be surprised what the CDC will give a standoffish single female lycanthrope should she ask. I asked really nicely, and I promised I’d only use the dust on single male lycanthropes. You will only take orders from me until I decide it’s time for you to go home. You’re lucky I’m not too bossy, and that I’m only going to require you to stick around until I decide it’s time for you to go home. Oh, plus you can’t contact any of your friends without my permission.”
“I should be upset over this, but I’m intrigued you would stoop to something so ruthless.” Wayne laughed, shaking his head and relaxing into the seat despite my car not being the most comfortable of vehicles. “I needed a vacation anyway, but I will not promise my pack will not overreact.”
I could deal with the possibility of his pack overreacting. If push came to shove, I’d toss the wolf to the wolves and make my getaway while they assured themselves that Wayne had come to no harm.
As far as backup plans went, it beat not having one at all, but the next time I took a kidnapping bounty, I’d make a plan.
Considering my complete lack of a plan, my career as a kidnapper was going smashingly well.
I grinned at my good fortune. “You only have yourself to blame. You came into my house, fed me one of my favorite foods, and offered me a potential way out of my dead-end job.”
“You schedule is dangerous even for a lycanthrope. Truth be told, I was already making plans to deal with your schedule if you refused to cooperate with my updated leasing agreement, which would dramatically lessen your general financial burdens.”
Ugh. Overprotective male lycanthrope syndrome. I’d been warned by the CDC that lycanthrope and male meant overprotective. They’d told me that the instant I caught a male’s attention, I’d have to deal with his inability to handle my personal struggles.
I had thought it would take more than a few minutes for Wayne’s innate tendencies to kick in. “What sort of plans were you concocting, Mr. Barnes?”
“Job opportunities tossed your way until you accepted one of them was going to be my first plan. Your status as a single female lycanthrope changes everything. I was expecting to have to keep the pack from bothering you because you’re a single woman who isn’t afraid of lycanthropes. Once they learn you’re a single female lycanthrope? You’re going to be a rather sought-after bachelorette. Considering the circumstances of your infection, this isn’t a good thing. I’ll have to take steps.”
“You don’t have to do anything. I’ll go back to wearing my perfume as usual.”
“The instant you permit me to return home, my pack will smell you on me, and your scent screams lycanthrope female at the moment.”
“But does my scent scream lycanthrope female named Joyce?” I countered.
Wayne quieted, and while he thought about it, I headed for New Jersey, debating where I’d take my captive prize. In three days, I could get him across the country assuming I drove every waking moment. Such a plan would make it difficult to get him back home at the end of the bounty contract. Nothing in my contract said I had to return him at all. I just needed to keep him out of New York for three days.
Twenty thousand would give me plenty of time to come up with a long-term plan.
Damn. I needed to smack my virus across her furry nose before she got us both into serious trouble.
“No, whatever the hell you were wearing did a good job of making you not smell like you.”
“Wolfsbane perfume. The CDC makes it for lycanthropes who don’t want to be identified. It’s restricted. The side effects suck.”
“What are the side effects?”
“Virus spikes when you stop using them, and they can be pretty intense.”
“What does a virus spike mean for you? I’ve been a lycanthrope long enough to understand a spiking virus can mean a lot of different things, and the issues are very individualistic. I’m known to get affectionate, and I get snappy if I don’t have pack around to pay sufficient attention to me.”
I raised a brow at his admission. “Should you be confessing that to me, Wayne? Your reputation as a hard-assed lycanthrope might be damaged.”
“I’ll survive. It’s the truth, though. I become very social, I’m prone to want to roughhouse, and I need to be kept engaged, or I become snappy enough to worry my alphas.”
“Alphas? There’s more than one?”
“They’re a mated pair, and both are considered to be the pack’s alphas. Of course, Laurie defines what it means to be a bitch and rules the pack with an iron paw while her mate, James, is more of the peacekeeper type. James is going to love you, because you’re clever enough to have been under his nose for years without him being aware of you. Our pack needs clever women. Yes, we do call our women bitches, but it’s a respectful term. If you don’t like it, we’ll call you lady or whatever you want.”
“Okay. I’ll think about that.” Did I want a pack of lycanthropes calling me anything?
The resentment that had kept me secluded reared its ugly head, but I shoved it back. Yesterday, the resentment had served me well.
Today, all it would do was hold me back, and my lonely virus wanted more than our restrained e
xistence. She wanted it all.
She wanted a mate.
She wanted a family.
She wanted a pack.
I figured the infection hadn’t changed me all that much, as before I’d been sent to the hospital, I’d wanted those things, too. My odds of getting it had been slim before contracting lycanthropy, as I’d been estranged from my parents due to irreconcilable differences since I’d turned seventeen.
They would’ve kicked me out at sixteen, but they would’ve faced charges, and how dare I ruin their reputation further? As such, I’d climbed out the window and joined the ranks of missing persons, hitchhiking from Detroit to New York City to try my luck on my own.
Damn it, I’d been doing all right until a damned lycanthrope had made a mess of things.
“Why did you want the virus?” I asked.
“I had brain cancer, and the lycanthropy virus has a rather strong dislike of brain cancer. It was a resistant type, and I was looking at the end of the road in eight to twelve months with low odds of surgery or magical therapy working. I had nothing to lose, and the CDC got a good deal even after paying me for being their test subject.”
My eyes widened. “You had brain cancer?”
“What’s so surprising about that? It happens. I was exposed to a great deal of magic as a child, so they figure I developed the cancer as a result.”
Well, well, well. Wayne wasn’t as cut and dry as I’d believed. “How’d that happened?”
“It turns out there is a hot spot underneath my parents’ house.”
Despite the severity of the situation, I laughed. “Seriously? That’s wild!”
“That’s what I thought, too. My parents developed some pretty powerful talents. I got brain cancer. Bad luck of the draw—or a good one, I suppose. My virus wiped out the cancer in record time, and I developed the hybrid form, so I’m doing all right.”
“You must be the most eligible bachelor among lycanthropes in all of Long Island and Manhattan. A single hybrid?” I snorted, shaking my head. He’d come second to me if anyone figured out my virus had gone into overdrive following the attack. As I hated the Washington bridge more than the lycanthrope who’d almost killed me, I headed for the Lincoln tunnel and braced for the toll and the traffic. “How have you stayed single? Are you that annoying to everyone?”
Wayne laughed. “I’m not annoying to most people. Most people like me. I’m kind in my rejections, but I’ll just say my virus is particularly picky about who it classifies as an eligible bachelorette. I’m not a threat to you, and I’m happy to give you the time and space for you to realize that. Once you’re comfortable with me around, I can introduce you to members of the pack, and you can be integrated. You’ve probably figured this out on your own already, but lycanthropes don’t do well alone.”
No, we really didn’t. “You’re going to annoy me after I decide it’s time for you to go home, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Being completely honest with me, how good are the leasing terms? Which one of us wins?”
“Must everything be a win or loss with you?”
“That seems pretty probable. I don’t have a great history of playing nice with lycanthropes.”
“Well, there is a good reason for that. I wish I’d known sooner, as I would have changed my approach regarding my offers to you, but the arrangement I’m proposing definitely makes you the victor in most ways.”
I considered asking how I lost, but I decided against it. If I couldn’t figure out where I lost reading the contract, I deserved to get snookered. “Okay. I can work with that. With my infection status, jobs are few and far between unless I’m working through a pack.”
“You won’t have to worry about that. That part of your leasing arrangement is not changing. It will be a percentage of how much you earn at minimum wage. You may make more than minimum wage, but if I set your rent at minimum wage and a percentage of it, you shouldn’t have an issue paying your rent, and a stressed lycanthrope can be a dangerous lycanthrope.”
“I don’t have control issues.”
“Obviously. If you did, everyone in Long Island would know you’re a lycanthrope already. Frankly, I’m impressed you hid your infection status for so long.”
“The perfume helped.”
“Fucking perfume,” Wayne muttered, soft enough I questioned if he meant for me to hear his displeasure over having fallen for my ruse.
I ignored his complaint, opting to pay closer attention to traffic instead. Luck shined on me, and I only lost twenty minutes escaping Manhattan. Once in New Jersey, I headed for I-80 westbound, aimed for Pennsylvania. Once in Pennsylvania, I’d pick any direction other than east and see where it took us.
Navigating through the maze of tight intersections and dodging crazy drivers in a hurry and lacking in sense cut a few years off my life. Thanks to the pixie dust, Wayne snickered through the ordeal.
“If you make a single comment about my driving, I’m stuffing you in the trunk,” I warned.
“I’m less concerned about your driving than I am about the idiots you’re sharing the road with, if that makes you feel any better. If we get out of Jersey without an accident, I’ll be a happy man.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Chapter Four
While we made it out of New Jersey without an accident, an asshole in a newer but cheap pickup took offense to my fender. Unfortunately for the asshole, steel beat plastic, and his truck took the brunt of the damage. I pulled over, growling curses over the idiots who should have their licenses revoked for being a danger to everyone on the street. “Wayne, I’m just saying, if someone who isn’t me tries to boss you around, I’ll look the other way if you decide to pop them in the mouth when you choose to ignore them.”
“Most people tend to discourage lycanthropes from violence.”
“If anyone threatens your safety, I fully expect you to violently protect yourself.”
“And should someone threaten your safety?”
“I can take care of myself, Barnes.” I snorted at the idea of even another lycanthrope doing more than giving me some bruises. “Just worry about your safety for now, and if the situation looks particularly questionable, you can make an annoyance out of yourself.”
“I’m never annoying.”
“We can discuss that later.”
“You have my attention.”
Great. I already regretted my decision to not wear my perfume. If I needed to get into a fight, he’d discover I had my secrets, too.
We hybrids tended to get mean when the fists—or fur—started to fly.
Before I’d been infected, the brute of a man who emerged from the truck might have scared me. My virus viewed brutes with disgust and dislike, which led me to believe I’d contracted her from a brute of a man.
My virus went on alert, and if I let her, she’d growl, force me to shift to the hybrid form, and give the asshole a beating he’d never forget. I glanced at my car, which had bits of the truck’s fragile red fender decorating the rear.
My poor little car. If it took another hit like that, I might have to think about replacing it.
Wayne got out of my car, circled it, and examined the fender, chuckling over the situation. “I’m impressed, Joyce. You won that round.”
I ignored Wayne and turned my attention to the brute with an inability to pay attention to where he drove. It took me a moment to detect his scent, which was heavy with the markers of a male lycanthrope, harsher than Wayne’s scent, and sharp from his annoyance.
Wayne tensed for a moment, but then he turned, relaxed, and leaned against my car, crossing his arms over his chest. I realized he lied using his body language, offering the illusion of being calm but positioned to use my vehicle as a launching board if he needed to get involved.
“Where’d you learn to drive?” I asked, pumping as much scorn as possible into my voice. “I hope your insurance is better than mine, because mine ain’t going to be paying you jack shit thanks
to your non-existent driving skills.”
“That’s not polite,” the lycanthrope replied. He took a step forward, and my virus went from annoyed to infuriated. I stayed put, aware of if I took a single step towards him, I’d go from calm to trying to rip his face off. “You should be more polite.”
I needed to be more polite? My virus and I agreed on one thing: if he wanted me to be polite, he’d have to come back another day. “You should’ve paid more attention to where you’re driving, then. Why don’t you start with apologizing for being a shit driver?”
“You should have been driving faster. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing with someone like that? Ditch the man, ditch the car, and come home with me. You’ve got the virus, and you’ll make pretty puppies for the pack. I’ll get you something better. I’m impressed it didn’t fall apart when I hit you.”
Behind me, Wayne growled, and I glanced over my shoulder. He stayed with my vehicle, maintaining his relaxed posture. It occurred to me he wore a suit on a Saturday, and he did his outfit a great deal of justice. I looked the brute over head to toe, my brows furrowing at his scuffed, dirt-encrusted jeans, his torn wife-beater, and his untamed hair in dire need of a wash. “Seriously?”
“Very.”
“How about you just give me your insurance info so I can tell your insurance company you can’t drive worth a shit and busted up our vehicles because you can’t watch where you’re going? Hey, Wayne. Why don’t you take some pictures and give the cops a call if he doesn’t decide to do the right thing.”
While my words implied that I asked a question, only an idiot would miss the command in my tone. Wayne wisely grabbed his phone and did as I asked.
The pixie dust and influencer helped with his general inclination to do as I said, but I hoped he wouldn’t figure that out later. He might not, assuming I kept my requests reasonable and aligned them with his usual behavior.
“There’s no need to bring the cops into this,” the brute growled.
“Sure there is. You hit my car with your truck, and you don’t look like the type who pays back his debts.”