by R. J. Blain
“I’m always prim and proper when conducting business. You’re not business right now.”
“What am I, then?”
“Pure pleasure.”
I shot him a glare, grabbed my purse with its precious contents of male lycanthrope containment, got out of my car, and slammed the door. “Well, just you remember you’re a very nice paycheck to me right now. That makes you business.”
He dared to smirk at me. “I have decided that this is a vacation, and I get to enjoy my vacation with a very lovely hybrid lady. If no one has told you this before, your fur is quite lovely.”
I huffed, and I twisted my ears back, unable to resist glaring at my pale, almost silvery fur covering my hands. “I’m a wolf, and I have wolf fur.”
“You’ve never checked a mirror while in your hybrid form, have you?”
I snarled at him. “What’s it to you, Barnes?”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you are.” He took his phone out, took a few steps back, pointed it at me, and tapped at the screen. “Now, come over here and have a look at yourself. You’re lovely in your hybrid form.”
“No.”
“I am making it my goal to convince you to have a good look at yourself while wearing your fur coat, both as a wolf and in your hybrid form. I’m making this my latest mission in life, second only to getting you to sign the lease papers.”
“I’ll sign the lease papers under the condition you don’t try to show me my reflection in any damned mirror or make me look at pictures of myself.”
He scowled. “That’s playing dirty.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’ll have to check your reflection to see if you like your clothes, so I’ll win. Very well. You sign the lease, and I won’t pressure you into looking at your reflection more than once a month.”
I groaned, shook my head, and sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Well, if I had my way, I’d find who infected you and beat the life right out of him while you watched. I’ll settle with coaxing you into admiring the wolf you’ve become. I think limiting my efforts to once a month is fair in exchange for signing the leasing papers.”
“We’ll talk about it after we deal with the clothes,” I growled.
“That’s better than a no.” Wayne put his phone away and bowed, gesturing for me to go into the store, which featured a sign showing a stylized hybrid lycanthrope.
“Dress me in what you want, I’ll try it on to make sure it fits, and I won’t look at my fucking reflection!”
He laughed, and when I didn’t move, he straightened, placed his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me in the direction of the shop. “I look forward to proving you’re a beautiful hybrid.”
“You’d say that to any single hybrid female,” I complained. “That’s what I was told. All lycanthrope males think all lycanthrope females are beautiful. They lose their minds because of their viruses.”
“I’m going to have to talk to the CDC about this. They’ve done a good job of convincing you that lycanthropes are dangerous to you,” he grumbled.
“It’s true.”
“It’s really not. Despite the CDC’s opinion, most lycanthropes are aware of what the word no means. We even know how to respect the word no. And while it is recommended for a single female who wishes to remain single stay away from males while her virus spikes, we’re not monsters. Most of us. Most of us aren’t monsters. The wolf who infected you? He’s a monster, and the only good monster is a dead monster. Have you requested the FBI look into your case?”
“I didn’t know that was an option,” I admitted, wondering how this would have changed for me if only I’d known the CDC’s failure to find my attacker wasn’t the end of that road. “It’s probably too late, and I don’t remember much.”
“You remember some, and that might be enough. We’ll talk about it tonight after you sign the leasing paperwork.”
“You just want to build your ivory tower,” I accused.
“Absolutely. Now, add some steel to that spine of yours. We’re clothing shopping. That doesn’t mean we’re attending your execution.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Chapter Five
Trying on clothes and dodging mirrors to screw with Wayne didn’t lead to my execution, but the pair of disgruntled lycanthrope males fought to pick up the slack. Driving their truck right onto my piece of shit car counted as rude, as did breaking the store’s front window.
If they wanted to play, I’d play. While the brute joined the fray in his human form, he had three wolves with him, all single and male. A tabby cat rode a wolf, and I recognized his scent as the brute’s friend.
I wasn’t the only hybrid female in town, and the shop’s owner shifted, her clothes expanding in size to accommodate her larger form. With several hundred pounds of muscle on me, she could take me out with a flick of her claws, five inches of lethal curves, which were painted a glittery blue.
“We can paint our claws?” I blurted.
“Absolutely,” Francine replied, and she caught the brute by the throat and tossed him out of her shop and through his windshield. “How rude. If you want a date with a lady, you ask politely.”
I grimaced at the crunch of glass and bone, and blood sprayed onto the brute’s truck.
Wayne stifled a yawn, put his phone to his ear, and said, “I’d like to report a disturbance.” He gave the shop’s location, his phone number, and his name. “Two hybrid ladies are about to demolish a mixed pack of males. You should write ‘too stupid to live’ on their death certificates.”
The brute got up from his introduction to his windshield and bounded forward. The rest of his pack followed his lead, and I braced for pain, suffering, and bloodshed. The wolf with the cat reached me first, and I swiped for the cat, snagged him by his scruff, and threw him in his friend’s face.
The cat yowled, the claws came out, and the brute left the dispute with a deep set of gouges from his hairline to his jaw. I scowled as the feline hadn’t quite managed to hit the bastard’s eyes.
Turning tail, the cat bolted from the shop and ran for the trees.
Coward cat.
The wolves skidded to a halt, tucked their tails, and retreated a few paces, whining and regarding the brute with wide eyes.
While I recognized that my furry adversaries understood they’d bitten off more than they could chew, the brute went for me, spittle flying from his mouth. Francine took a single step forward, grabbed his arm, and flung him to the floor as though he weighed no more than a feather. He hit so hard the tiles cracked, which made the woman snarl. “Men who behave like little boys have the manners beaten back into them, and when I’m done with the beating, you will be on your hands and knees cleaning every damned inch of my shop when you’re not putting the young lady’s car back together.”
I regarded my poor vehicle with a sigh. “It lost this time.”
“Rather severely,” Francine agreed.
“It’s a pancake.”
“It really is.” Francine stepped on the brute’s chest, leaned over, and roared in his face. “You picked the wrong shop to trash, buddy.”
“The police will be here within five minutes,” Wayne reported, and he took pictures of Francine restraining the brute.
The wolves turned tail and charged across the parking lot, following the cat’s path of escape.
While the brute couldn’t worm out from beneath Francine’s foot, he went for her ankle and bit hard enough she yelped despite her protective layer of fur. Like any sensible being, she kicked, once again punting the brute right out of her shop and into the cab of his truck. Metal and glass crunched once more, and I winced.
The idiot male groaned, but rather than come back for thirds, he crawled out of his truck, and limped after his friends, leaving a trail of blood across the asphalt.
I wondered why he hadn’t shifted.
“Well, shit. I didn’t mean to let him get a
way.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know who he is, I have pictures of him, and the CDC and FBI will take care of it.” Wayne shook his head. “I really hadn’t thought they’d be that stupid.”
“Stupid is attacking a hybrid,” Francine replied. “Sure, you’re dainty for a hybrid, but you’re more than enough to take on any damned male dumb enough to get into your space uninvited.”
I flicked an ear back. “Dainty is one way to put it.”
“She’s a solo, underfed, and generally neglected. I’m taking care of those problems.”
“Along with her clothing problems, I see.”
“Well, she didn’t precisely choose to be infected, and without a pack, she had no idea there were specialty stores for us—especially not for hybrids. And she’s been wearing that fucking perfume.”
“Oh! Do you need some? I have an extra bottle.”
“Please,” I begged. “I left mine at home. I didn’t think I’d actually need it.”
“No. No, you do not need that damned perfume. You’re fine as you are. Don’t give her the perfume. She’s supposed to smell like a lycanthrope,” Wayne complained.
“Unmated males. Is there anything more obnoxious?” Francine rolled her eyes, disregarded Wayne’s complaint, and went to the register, which had survived the incident unscathed. She pulled out a plain, brown-wrapped box, which she offered to me. “I’ll get another bottle from the CDC. They provide it to shops like mine for emergencies, as they’d rather not have too many brawls like this one. Really, ganging up on one little lady. How rude.”
Rude was one way to put it. I regarded the brute’s truck, which had emerged from the wreck in far better shape than my vaguely car-shaped pancake. “I feel like dismantling that truck,” I growled.
“Go for it. I’ll just tell the nice police officers your virus spiked and you took it out on their truck rather than out on them, the stupid cowards.”
Some invitations I couldn’t ignore, and beyond caring if I received a bill for the damages, I leapt through the broken window, landed on the hood of his truck, and went to work, digging my claws into the plastic and steel.
Sometimes, all a woman needed in life was some good, old-fashioned destruction.
Three police cruisers arrived while I dismantled the truck’s cab, and I flung the steering wheel in the direction of the nearby woods, roaring my fury. Previously, I hadn’t had a chance to do more than throw a damned lycanthrope cat in the face of a brute who infuriated my virus. My virus wanted more of the bastard’s blood, fueling my rage enough I slashed through more metal and flung it at the ground.
“All right there, tiger,” Wayne chided, grinning up at me. “I know you need to vent off some of that steam, but don’t intimidate the police.”
I growled at him, flattening my ears at his criticism, and because I could, I flung a piece of the brute’s truck in his general direction. Wayne sidestepped, and his grin widened.
Bastard.
I considered jumping down and getting in his face over it, but while I added a few inches as a hybrid, he still beat me in height when human.
“You Barnes?” one of the six cops asked. I regarded the man with narrowed eyes, and when I breathed in, I detected the scent markers of a lycanthrope. My virus also identified a second scent, one that marked him as safely mated.
Twisting around, I glared at the lycanthrope, who kept his attention fixed on Wayne. A sane woman played nice with the cops, but at my virus’s urging, I bared my fangs.
If the cop tested his luck or screwed with my target, I’d take my irritation out on him.
“I’m Barnes,” Wayne replied. “Don’t mind the lady on the truck. Her car is underneath the truck, and her virus is currently spiking. She’s taking out her aggression on the perp’s vehicle rather than on someone. The truck was totaled from the get-go, so I figured a little extra destruction wouldn’t hurt anything.”
The cops peered under the truck, and the entire lot of them whistled. “Looks about right. I’d be wearing a fur coat and playing demolitionist, too. Any of you hurt?”
Francine lifted her hand and showed off her scuffed nail polish. “I chipped a claw on an idiot.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive, babe,” the cop replied.
Babe? I hopped and spun, considering Francine with my head tilted to the side. The truck’s roof crunched under my feet, and I thumped down to the hood. “Is he your mate?”
“He sure is. If you think I’m big, he’s got two feet on me and comes in at over seven hundred pounds.”
I slumped my shoulders, wondering how I’d become a shrimp among other lycanthrope hybrids. “Not fair,” I complained.
“You’re a pup, and that you’re a hybrid without a mate boosting your virus? That’s pretty incredible, Joyce. You’ll put on the pounds and the inches in time. Having a mate to fuss over will help your virus.”
“Having a pack will help, too,” Wayne added.
I growled at the thought of a pack.
“She’s a rogue?” Francine’s mate asked.
“She’s sanctioned. The CDC has been providing perfume for her, and she’s been sliding under the radar playing human while working the fast food line as a cashier. She served the lycanthropes.”
“Serves,” I corrected.
“Served,” Wayne replied in a tone that implied I wouldn’t be serving anyone anything again in the future.
I missed having proper eyebrows. I couldn’t raise one at him despite wanting to. Settling with a grunt, I dropped to the asphalt, straightened, and brushed off the short skirt and blouse Francine had stuffed me in. Without a mirror, I couldn’t confirm it, but I expected I resembled a poodle with a fashion malfunction.
I hated mirrors. My virus turned my eyes green with hints of blue, and I remembered I’d lost my humanity thanks to some thug in an alley.
I’d been born with amber hazel eyes, and I missed them.
“Wayne,” I warned in a snarl, making sure to show him every single one of my sharp and pointy teeth.
“Yes, Joyce? I have a much better job for you. It pays better, has better hours, and I’m still setting your rent based on your current employment terms, and you’ll just have to suffer through it for five years.”
Better pay and better hours might have me eating out of his hand, and my virus liked the idea, especially if eating out of his hand led to our eviction from the singles’ pool.
Ugh. My virus was going to be the death of me one of these days.
“It’s still my job.”
“Not for long.”
I bowed my head and sighed.
“It’s one of the single male tricks,” Francine warned me. “He’ll goad you into putting him in his place, then you’ll realize how nice he looks in his suit, and the next thing you know, he’s no longer wearing his suit, and it goes from there. Rather than a suit, the uniform got me. Males are sneaky. They’re also like peacocks, and they wear pretty things to tempt you.” Francine pointed at her cop. “That one kept coming here wearing that damned uniform!”
Francine’s mate chuckled. “It’s your fault you kept calling the non-emergency line and asking to send the, oh, what was it she said, Gerry?”
“She wanted to know if we could send ‘the sex on a stick over’ and wanted a list of crimes she could commit that might involve you using a pair of handcuffs on her,” one of the older cops replied. “Dispatch had a field day with that for weeks until you took pity on her.”
Francine shrugged. “He’s sex on a stick and I wanted him to handcuff me.”
I compared the cop to Wayne. Wayne took the clean cut businessman thing to extremes, and despite the events of the day, he’d emerged with his hair barely ruffled. The cop went the other way, with enough scruff on his chin to give him the bad boy appeal.
I’d had a lifetime limit on bad boys, as the last bad boy to stomp into my life had about killed me.
I blamed my old prejudices and trauma on my inability to figure out what she sa
w in him. “If you say so, Francine.”
Francine laughed. “Sorry, babe. She’s not your type.”
“She’s an attack victim, and I fit the profile of her attacker. I’m more impressed her virus didn’t get riled up at my presence. I called in the CDC with your name and got a rather blunt warning you might go for my throat if I provoked you. You have a reputation.”
I spluttered, taken aback at the accusation I’d attack someone without significant provocation. “I have never!”
Wayne closed the distance between us and rested his hand on my shoulder. “The CDC tracks solo lycanthropes and gives them a hazard rating. Your file probably mentions you were infected under violent circumstances, which makes you a higher risk of snapping, especially as you don’t have a pack to offer you stability.”
I snarled and took my frustration out on the brute’s truck, swiping my claws at the siding and gouging the steel and plastic. “I have never.”
“I know. He didn’t mean anything by it. They just sent some of the local lycanthropes over in case you decided to go after someone.”
I yanked the door off the truck and flung it across the parking lot. It didn’t touch the ground until it reached the trees, and it disappeared into the underbrush. “Bring that fucking brute over here, and I’ll earn that reputation.”
The cops stared at where I’d flung the door, and Francine’s mate whistled. “I haven’t seen a temper tantrum quite like that since I told Franky she couldn’t have a round with my handcuffs because I was on duty, and all she did was punch the wall while cussing.”
“You just have to bring that up every time you get a chance, don’t you, Rem?”
“I sure do,” he replied with a wolfish grin. “You’re so much fun when you’re cranky. We have how many brats now because of those temper tantrums of yours?”
Francine waggled three of her painted claws.
“This is life with a mate, ma’am. And us males are just as bad as the ladies, so if you decide to keep Mr. Barnes, you’ll have your hands full with him.”
My virus definitely wanted me to get an up close and personal feel of Wayne from head to toe. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied in my driest tone.