There was nothing quite like starting my week with a serious case of petrification. What had I been thinking when I’d applied to be a contractor for the CDC? Ever since I’d become the Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s dog, I’d almost come to a premature end more times than I cared to count.

Ah, right. They’d bribed me with fifty an hour, full benefits, hazard pay, paid training, and a boss I’d kill for if she asked it of me. It was a good thing Ethel Frankwell was as straight laced as they came, else I’d be putting my lycanthropy virus to use in all the wrong ways.

If my virus had its way, I’d be taking her home with me and never letting her out of my bedroom ever again.

I needed a new job before I went insane, and it wouldn’t be the job hazards that finally got to me. It’d be Ethel Frankwell, her mousy brown hair, her doe-sweet eyes, and her hypnotizing hips. Facing my boss tested my limits on a good day, but nothing made my day quite like watching her stomp off when someone stirred her ire.

I could handle petrification; it happened at least once a month in my line of work. Facing my boss post-petrification while I clutched a gorgon’s throat with one hand and trapped a pixie with the other wasn’t a good start to my Monday.

In the moments before I’d been petrified, the gorgon had been out for the pixie’s blood, not that I blamed her; on a good day, I considered thinning the pixie populations in the name of world peace. Coming between them kept someone from getting killed, but I’d taken a full dose of gorgon spittle to the face. Add in her gaze, and it hadn’t taken long for me to black out.

The gorgon still hissed, but a black bag over her head kept her from petrifying me again.

The pixie beat my hand with her glittery wings, her arms crossed over her chest, indulging in a pixie-typical sulk. Unfortunately for me, she didn’t produce any dust.

A good hit of pixie dust would make facing my boss a lot easier.

“Earth to Dale.” My boss waved her hand in front of my face. The motion wafted her perfume straight to my nose. While the other wolves in my pack found the floral scent disturbing at best, I wanted to inhale, savor the aroma, and shift to my wolf so I could rub against her legs. I didn’t dare take even a sniff, as I couldn’t afford her suspecting I wanted to follow her around like a puppy.

My boss waited in expectant silence, one of her eyebrows arched. As always, my tongue fought me following petrification, the first to harden, the last to soften. At least I wasn’t prone to falling over while the neutralizer did its work; my sense of balance returned first, an oddity that made me an ideal employee for the CDC.

They liked sending me in to deal with cranky gorgons, and they didn’t care how often I needed to gargle neutralizer to regain control over my tongue.

I really needed a new job.

As my tongue refused to obey my demands, I thrust the pixie towards my boss and hoped for the best.

“Not fair,” the winged menace whined. “I only pulled one of her snakes. It’s not that big of a deal.”

My boss didn’t look impressed, and I almost pitied the pixie. “You provoked a gorgon in a public place, resulting in the petrification of a CDC employee. It’s a big deal, especially if Mr. Jameson doesn’t fully recover without additional intervention.” Seizing the pixie around her waist, my boss pried her out of my still-stiff hand and lifted her up. “Why did you pull on her snake?”

“She looked bored.”

I’d gotten petrified because a pixie had thought a gorgon looked bored? Fifty and hour plus benefits wasn’t worth it, but I couldn’t force myself to quit. Unless I was willing to show off my hybrid form, a solid hell no as far as I was concerned, my prospects were few and far between.

No one trusted a lycanthrope who refused to openly shift.

My boss cleared her throat, her first warning I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. With wide eyes, I gave her my full attention. “Go ahead and say whatever it is you’re thinking, Dale. I’m woman enough to handle it.”

I forced open my uncooperative fingers, releasing the gorgon. The stiffness in my joints would linger for hours, and I grimaced at the crack and pops in my knuckles. I swallowed and tested my tongue, pleased to discover it moved at my command. Straightening my shoulders and ignoring their creaking, I said, “Everything is fine, ma’am. I intervened when it seemed likely the ladies would engage physically. I didn’t witness the triggering incident.”

“Your tongue recovered faster than usual. Good. There’s an ambulance out front. As soon as you can walk without falling on your face, go get checked. I’ll take care of these two. If they want to send you to the hospital, have someone notify me before they haul you off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Following petrification, my body wanted nothing to do with moving, and I staggered several steps before I caught my balance. Unless I shifted, I estimated it’d be several hours before the stiffness faded, but I refused.

If anyone saw my fur, they’d die of laughter while I died from embarrassment.

Every other lycanthrope I’d met had normal fur, with red and tawny counting as exotic among wolves. At my first shift, I’d been coal black, an uncommon but desirable color. A year later, everything had changed during the spring shed. My black fur had fallen out to be replaced with a wretched electric purple. Worse, not only was I electric purple, my paws, the tips of my ears, and tail were bright blue. No matter how often I checked my reflection in the mirror, I came to the same conclusion: I looked ridiculous.

Once I added in my second secret, my life was a mess. No one knew I could shift into the prized hybrid form. If I could deal with my fur color, I’d be in a much better position. I could find a different job, and often enough, human women considered hybrid lycanthropes as prospective husband material.

I had no idea what my boss was; her perfume confused my nose on a good day and made me want to drool over her, crippling my ability to distinguish much about her by scent.

At a slow, pained walk, I headed outside to the waiting ambulance, hoping I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. If I did, I’d face another round of scrutiny regarding my elevated virus levels and rare shifts. My virus levels were consistently high enough I needed to disclose my status to employers, co-workers, and anyone who asked.

Some days, I considered wearing dog tags to make it clear I was contagious; it’d save me a lot of time and trouble.

I sighed, staggered to the ambulance, and waited for the paramedics to decide how they wanted to handle me without running the risk of becoming lycanthropes, too. Despite the fact I wasn’t bleeding or even drooling, their first step was to spray me down with pink, shimmering neutralizer to eliminate any chance of them contracting my virus.

With them already nervous, I hoped they wouldn’t ask about my first shift; for someone exposed before birth, I’d been abnormally old when I’d had my first shift. As far as I was concerned, my status as a late-bloomer was the closest thing to normal about me.

Resigned to a hell-filled Monday, I endured their poking and prodding, hoping to dodge an unwanted trip to a medical interrogation overseen by doctors who wanted to study me more than they cared about my health.

I dodged a medical interrogation, but when my boss offered a paid day off work to recover from petrification, my pride demanded I refuse. A double dose of neutralizer added a pink sheen and shine to my clothes, and it’d take at least five washes to get it out of my hair. In the overhead lights, my mall security jacket gleamed.

Most would recognize the signs of recent neutralizer exposure, so I didn’t fret too much over my battered professionalism. For a few hours, I’d even enjoy having pale hair; as a rebellious teen, I’d tried to bleach it blond, but the incubating virus refused to cooperate. The neutralizer’s nefarious tingling would drive me to the brink of insanity by the end of my shift, but I’d survive. Most lycanthropes loved the sensation, which was a little like a good scratch behind the ears and a lot like how I reacted whenever my boss got too close for my comfort.

Nervous. Wired. Interested—too interested.

At least my virus didn’t act up when any woman crossed my path. A few members of the pack had that problem, and it caused nothing but trouble. Half the time, our pack’s alphas, Jerome and Allison, dealt with it. The other half of the time, the problems were dumped on my lap, as I was the pack’s only unmated, post-shift wolf who didn’t trigger territory disputes and could, when necessary, hit hard enough to knock sense back into most of the males. Jerome thought I’d be just as good at my job within the pack if I ever got around to mating.

It wasn’t my strength that kept the other wolves in line. It was me. As such, I held the dubious rank of pack beta, one of three. Among the betas, I came in dead last, as I preferred to avoid conflict rather than wade in and break up the fights before they became fights.

My father would be proud if he found out. My mother would be annoyed. She still hadn’t had her first shift, and unlike me, she wouldn’t have the hybrid form. My father didn’t have it. My grandparents weren’t lycanthropes. No one was really sure how my father had been infected.

If I hadn’t been a chip off my father’s block, I might’ve worried my mother had dallied with another lycanthrope before infection, another reason I didn’t want anyone to know I had the prized hybrid form.

I should have been just like my father, with gray fur and only the wolf form. I envied my father and his perfectly normal coat. He still thought I had black fur, which was why I hadn’t gone home in five years.

When my parents found out the truth, they’d laugh for a year.

The rest of my shift went by without incident—well, as without incident as a mall visited by the weirder and weirder got on a Monday. The second fight of the day broke up after a single growl from me. To cap my already shitty day, a centaur high on pixie dust just wanted a friend, and I’d been recruited as the one most likely to survive without permanent disfigurement.

The lioness scratched me four times and only tried to get into my pants once, a victory in my book, especially since she didn’t mind having neutralizer foam rubbed into her fur so she wouldn’t spread my virus around. Even better, she let me herd her into a cab, allowing me to get away without having to contact the CDC.

The incident would be filed in my report, I’d face a scolding from my boss for daring to shed a drop of my blood in a public place, and since nothing made sense when it came to the CDC, she’d be writing a hazard pay check while she did it.

It was only Monday, and I’d be heading home with a week’s worth of extra pay for putting up with a mall security shift.

Twenty minutes before closing, the mall’s head of security tracked me down and flashed a gap-toothed grin at me. “Mr. Jameson, thank you for coming in today. Were you told about the circumstances bringing you here today?”

Before shipping me to the mall, my boss had given me an earful about the situation. A lycanthrope with a death wish had attacked one of the security guards during his last round, a round I was about to take. “Your employee was attacked after closing last night,” I dutifully replied.

“Yes. It happened during the tail end of his exterior check of the building. Miss Frankwell told me you can handle a lycanthrope attack without risk of infection?”

However much I obsessed over my boss, I suspected she lived to vex me. One of the first things she did was notify my contact of my status as a lycanthrope. Why had she neglected to tell Mr. Coolridge I was beyond being infected? “I’m a lycanthrope, so yes.” I tensed, waiting for his reaction.

Some didn’t care about the contagion risk. Others recoiled a few feet and reeked of terror.

“Good. I was worried they’d send someone else to be infected. I’ll be honest, you’re the first lycanthrope I’ve worked with, but I like what I see so far. Are all lycanthropes able to hold up so well on long shifts?”

Then there were men like Mr. Coolridge, who realized the virus had advantages and wanted to profit from it, although more job choices for others with the virus was a good thing. “That depends on the lycanthrope, sir. If a lycanthrope has a well-developed virus, yes. Preliminary infections don’t offer many benefits.”

Mr. Coolridge circled me, looking me over from head to toe. “And how long have you been infected, son?”

“I was born exposed, sir. My father’s a lycanthrope. I wasn’t confirmed infected until I was ten. In cases like mine, the first shift can happen as early as fifteen, but it can take longer, too. I was projected to have my first shift in my forties. It typically takes several decades for the virus to develop enough to allow for shifting.”

I wouldn’t tell the man I’d endured a virus spike shortly after meeting my boss, something that’d resulted in me shifting fifteen years ahead of schedule. It was listed in my file that I’d had my first shift, and my fur color was still listed as pure black. Depending on if the rep with the CDC was having a bad day, I might end up with a fine for not notifying the organization my coat had changed colors. I had no idea what they’d do when they learned I had access to the hybrid form.

I suspected I’d be slapped with another fine and put to work on even more dangerous cases under a new boss.

No matter how many times I bitched and moaned about my job sucking, I didn’t want a new boss. I liked the one I had, and I enjoyed not having to follow her around like a love-sick puppy to be near her.

Mr. Coolridge circled me again before he came to a halt and nodded. “Interesting. And you’re contagious?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Frankwell didn’t provide you with my statistics sheet?”

“I didn’t bother reading it. I prefer to judge a man by his actions rather than look over what some paper shuffler sends me. She informed me you had security experience. That’s all I needed to know. Have you ever infected anyone?”

“No, sir.”

“Interesting.”

If I’d been in my hybrid form, I would’ve pinned my ears back and bared my teeth. Professionalism demanded I maintain a neutral expression. Why did he think my care and caution with the uninfected was interesting? At a loss of what to say, I waited.

“Do you believe current prevention methods are effective?”

While tempted to refer him to the CDC’s website for information on infection statistics, I resisted the urge. When trouble like his came calling, it was wisest to avoid adding to the problems, which would inevitably reach my boss. I made a show of thinking about his question. “I haven’t infected anyone, sir. But the lycanthrope isn’t the only liable individual in the equation. Others do need to be aware and take care. If you were to pick a fight with me and bloody my nose, infection is possible, and according to the law, I wouldn’t be held liable. The lycanthrope is only liable if they started the fight, and such incidents are always verified by an angel.”

“A good point. Be careful on your rounds, son. Give a holler if you run into trouble.” Mr. Coolridge flipped me a salute and strolled off, pulling out a cell phone and placing a call.

According to my nose, the man was satisfied about something, and I wasn’t certain why. Did he want lycanthrope security guards? The members of local packs would appreciate extra job opportunities. The risk of infection would make most think twice about trying their luck and picking a fight. It would also encourage those who wanted to be infected to pick fights.

Fortunately for most but unfortunately for me, those who wanted to become infected picked a fight with a lycanthrope with the hybrid form, hoping the virus would take hold and become strong enough. They’d be disappointed.

It wasn’t the source of the infection that ensured access to the hybrid form. What it was, however, I wasn’t certain. My father couldn’t access the hybrid form. Had I been normal, I wouldn’t have access to it, either.

I sighed, staring until my temporary boss turned the corner and headed deeper into the mall. If anyone learned I had the hybrid form, I’d rise to the top of the local eligible bachelor list, a status I didn’t want. At the rate my persnickety virus rejected women, I’d die old and alone. I wouldn’t die a virgin, at least, but I’d had my romp in the hay before I’d become contagious.

Dana had made it clear she wouldn’t mind being stuck with me for life, but then she’d gone on to pick up the virus from a different wolf. Most days, I wasn’t sure what to think of that, especially since she tried to have a new puppy every year.

Pack life sometimes drove me insane, especially when I ran into Dana at the pack gatherings. She loved everything about life as a mated pre-shift lycanthrope.

I remembered a few too many promises she broke when another wolf had wagged his tail, so I avoided her even more than she avoided me. I wasn’t even sure why she avoided me; her mate was a twig of a man with a heart of gold, and he’d gone out of his way to tell me I didn’t have anything to worry about.

I could be friends with Dana if I wanted.

My thoughts consumed me as I patrolled around the building, testing the exterior doors to make certain they were locked. Other security guards waited inside, though most of them were looking over their phones rather than paying attention to me. At most, I got a cursory glance to make certain I was a guard rather than someone hoping to slip in after hours.

As I made the circuit around the west side of the mall to the south side, I forced myself to pay closer attention; the attack yesterday had happened near one of the south entrances, a single door hidden down a concrete access ramp between two designer clothing stores. It took only a glance to understand why the attack had happened there; the lamp’s light was out, leaving it a shadowy place ripe for an ambush.

If I ever had a chance to film a horror flick, I’d pick the entrance as the prime spot for a murder. A lycanthrope wanting to spread his virus around wouldn’t have any troubles disabling and infecting a lone security guard.

Per my boss’s instructions, I took my time investigating the spot, searching for ways a lycanthrope might get the jump on someone. It’d be easier to identify spots safe from a hunting lycanthrope, which was nowhere. A concrete half-wall divided the walkway from the parking lot, and there were plenty of ways for someone to scale the mall to the ledges dividing the ground and second floor.

Someone—something—growled behind me.

Assuming I wasn’t about to be ripped apart by another lycanthrope, I needed a raise. In the worst-case scenario, I’d need to shift and fight. While having the hybrid form gave me strength and speed, I was likely the world’s most pacifistic wolf.

Experience mattered, of which I had none.

Expecting the worst, I turned to face the source of the growls, coming nose to muzzle with a hybrid-form female. She bared her fangs and growled again. With a single sniff, my nose and virus identified her as an unmated female on the prowl. The sensation never failed to bother me.

Unmated females always gave my virus certain ideas, but my picky-as-hell virus wanted my boss, and I had no doubts the damned thing wouldn’t quit until it got its way.

At least she wasn’t a mated female. Whenever I got too close to a mated female, I wanted to back away at least ten feet, tense and wary the male would show up and pull out my fur for getting too close.

With a little luck, she wouldn’t clue in I was a lycanthrope without a mate. If I got lucky, I’d be able to talk her down without someone—me—getting hurt.

“The mall’s closed, ma’am.” I relaxed so I wouldn’t look like a threat, looking her over. A second sniff warned me if she didn’t find a male soon, she’d act on her serious case of grumpy. She growled again, her eyes narrowing to slits.

Unmated females on the prowl had a tendency to beat on unmated males to prove they were strong enough to bear puppies.

I didn’t want anyone beating on me, not even my boss. As always, my virus had different thoughts about that.

I needed to stop lying to myself. If my boss wanted to beat on me, I’d encourage her, run to piss her off, and push to see how far she’d go to prove her interest in me.

I stood my ground, and she lowered her head to look me in the eyes, pricking her ears forward. “Where? Not here. Where? We meet here. You not him.”

Her harsh, raspy voice startled me. It had taken me several long nights of practice, but it hadn’t taken me long to master English while in my hybrid form. The possibility of her being new to the third form worried me even more than the anger and annoyance rich in her scent.

The lycanthrope attack made a lot more sense when I added an unmated hybrid female into the equation.

“Are you courting one of the security guards here?”

She bobbed her head.

Sometimes, I hated when I was right. Being right almost always caused me more trouble than I wanted. If she was courting the security guard who’d been attacked, it was entirely possible someone the female knew had been involved. That the guard survived suggested the attacking wolf approved of her interest and wanted to ensure she mated.

The instant her virus detected the virus in the man she courted, she’d go into a frenzy to claim him.

He’d be one lucky man, although I didn’t envy him the bites and scratches she’d inflict on him during their first mating, which would likely result in a child nine months down the road.

Frenzied females were not to be underestimated under any circumstance.

There was nothing in the CDC contractor’s handbook about what to do in the case of cranky lycanthrope female seeking her desired man. I doubted the mall security guide had anything of use in it, either.

She leaned towards me, breathing in my scent. “Where is he? You wolf, too. Why here?”

Some questions I could answer, and the CDC made it easy to direct her attention away from me. “I’m a stand in hired by the CDC, ma’am. If you’ll call the CDC’s office here, they’ll be able to give you more infor—”

The female lunged for me, slashing at my chest with her six-inch claws. I sidestepped, grabbed the wall, and jumped on top.

A pack of wolves waited on the other side, and they growled.

A cranky hybrid female viewing me as a threat to her man would cause me problems, but a small pack was more than I could handle. They were ready and itching for a fight, and I wanted to find somewhere nice and quiet to hide until they went away.

Running only stirred predatory instincts, so I stood my ground and waited.

“Where is he?” the female snarled.

“A lycanthrope attacked him. He’s in the hospital. I don’t know if he’s infected, but it’s probable. He was seriously injured. That’s all I know.”

The acrid bite of fury stung my nose. I doubted any of them were responsible. I held up my hands and hoped they wouldn’t view me as a threat. “I’m just a CDC contractor covering for him until he recovers.”

The female’s ears turned back. “Where?”

“I really don’t know, ma’am. The CDC does, and once you explain you’re courting him, they’ll give you the information you need. I just show up where and when I’m told.”

Her pack drew closer, and they snarled. If I shifted to my wolf form, I might have a chance of outrunning them, as long as I was on the move before they realized I’d given them the slip. The female hopped onto the wall with me, sniffing. “You not mated. Courting?”

Why couldn’t the lycanthropy virus allow for some privacy? “No and no. I’m not interested.”

“Pre-shift?” She flicked an ear back. “Virus smell strong.”

“There isn’t anyone I’m interested in.”

She huffed and her other ear turned back. “You lie. Why?”

Scowling, I lowered me hands. “Why would you say that?”

“You interested in someone. Today. Scent lingers.”

If any of the pack came around after my morning meetings with my boss, I’d need to remember they might scent my interest in her on me. Why did Ethel Frankwell have to be everything I wanted in a woman?

She made hiding my interest difficult.

The truth never steered me wrong, and I wielded it as a shield. “She’s unavailable.”

“Your virus disagree. I smell. She wolf? Infected?”

“I don’t know.” If my boss was infected, her perfume hid the scent markers. Infected or not, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Mating ensured infection. No matter what, I couldn’t afford to think of my boss as a potential mate.

My virus liked the idea, I liked the idea, and if I lost control, my boss would be the target of my interest.

Courting males could snap just like courting females, and when it happened, it got ugly. No, I wouldn’t be one of those wolves.

I’d be more than completely certain of my future mate’s interest. I’d be so certain I wouldn’t make the first move, and the only way I’d settle down with a female was if she hunted me, caught me, beat me within an inch of my life, and leashed me so thoroughly I couldn’t escape her even if I tried.

She shook out her fur, canted her head, and watched me. “He belong to us. CDC trade you for him, yes?”

“He’s not a hostage, ma’am. He’s in the hospital.”

“He not here.”

Why did I end up with the crazy jobs? “He’s not here because he’s in the hospital. There’s no need for any sort of trade. He’s really not a hostage.”

“You come. They talk. When they talk, you return safe. He mine. He pack,” the female growled. “No run. You run, you hurt.”

While I tended to be pacifistic in nature, especially for a lycanthrope, if she thought I was going to sit and accept being taken as the hostage of another pack, she was insane. “Why don’t I—”

She jumped for me, taking another swipe with her claws, which tore into my upper arm. With a yelp, I recoiled, hopping back along the dividing wall so I wouldn’t fall among the gathered wolves.

The scent of my blood goaded the other lycanthropes, who dove into the fray with yips and howls. While I’d gotten in some practice mock fighting with my pack, I only managed to dodge the pack’s first few bites before their sharp teeth dug deep into the calf of my left leg and the wolves hauled me off the wall, slamming me into the asphalt.

Provoking a lycanthrope involved two parts: pissing off the human half and waking the virus.

My human half wanted nothing to do with bleeding, and my virus reacted just like expected: it wanted to match drop for drop and add interest. However much I disliked shifting without a good reason, my virus boiled in my veins and was tired of my shit.

It wouldn’t let me go down without a fight.

When magic came out to play, physics and the laws of conservation of matter went right out the window. Many had tried to learn why a hundred and sixty pound man like me could explode from his clothes, gain an extra six hundred pounds, sprout fur, and develop an unfortunate tendency to howl at the moon in the time it took me to draw a single breath.

I called for my pack, although I held no real hope they’d hear me. I didn’t spend enough time as a wolf to form the bonds the others shared. Twisting around, I smashed my paw into the wolf mauling my leg, scruffed him, and tore him off. Showing my fangs, I bellowed in the wolf’s face before chucking him across the parking lot.

He crashed onto the hood and windshield of a car, its alarm singing a shrill song.

The female barked a warning. “Hybrid! You? You?”

I understood her astonishment completely, but before I had a chance to reply, she lunged for me. My virus’s fury over being attacked and outnumbered gave me the strength to toss two more of the wolves before I fell beneath them. The female did most of the work, pinning me with her weight and sinking her claws deep into the back of my neck. “Sur-ren-der or die. Your choice.”

The sharp stab of her claws burying in my throat fell under the heat of my fury, and when I tensed, she dug in deeper. The stench of my blood deadened my nose to all other scents, and while I growled, I kept still.

“Good. You stay. Pack need male hybrid. You help. You have strong virus. You share. Pack grow strong. You bring my future mate back. All be good.”

I bared my teeth in defiance, and she tightened her grip, cutting off my breath.

Why, why, why did I always attract the crazy ones? Ah, right. I worked as a CDC contractor. It was in my job description. When my boss got her hands on me, she’d make the pack’s attack pale in comparison.

My virus would like it, too.

“You mine now. Me stronger.”

I struggled to suck in a breath, and my vision blurred. It didn’t take long or my body to go limp beneath hers. When she eased her hold on me enough I could breathe, I wheezed.

“Pat. Shift. Get car. We take hybrid.”

“Excuse me? You’ll do what?” The amused disbelief in my boss’s voice jolted me to full awareness, and I tensed. A flashlight shined in my eyes, and I growled, unable to turn to avoid the blinding beam. “This is how this is going to work. You’re going to stand down, back off, and behave, or I’m going to pump so many rounds into you they’ll be pulling bullets out of your hide for a week. This puppy’s an M14, and if I pull the trigger, you might not even make it to the hospital. Your choice.”

“Cheat,” the female snarled.

“One would say nine against one is cheating, too. She who holds the M14 makes the rules, and my rules say you’re the one cheating. Call your pack off, or I’m going to unleash my gun and the pack of angry wolves itching for a chance to beat on you for a while. It takes a lot of balls to attack one of the Baltimore pack’s betas. Unless you want to die young, I recommend you back off.”

The female tightened her grip on me, digging her claws deeper into my throat, spilling more of my blood. “Hybrid beta? Not alpha?”

“I’m the alpha,” Jerome announced, and he redirected the flashlight out of my eyes. “The missus apologizes she can’t wipe the concrete with you herself, but she’s stuck at work. As for Dale, he’s my beta because that’s what he does best. I recommend you listen to the lady here. She really will pull the trigger. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t yet.”

“I won’t if she lets Dale go,” my boss grumbled.

According to her tone, my boss wanted nothing more in life than to turn the hybrid female into paste with her fully automatic military rifle.

“Dale’s going to be fine, Ethel. Sure, they’ve bloodied him up pretty badly; this whole lot is going to need detoxed, but he’ll be fine. Just be careful, his virus is probably spiked to hell, and I make zero promises I can control him after she releases him.”

“We’ll play it by ear.” My boss grunted. “Well, lady? What’s it going to be? You going to let him go?”

“You CDC.”

“Yes, I am, and you’re digging your claws into my wolf.”

“You steal my male. This male mine until my male returned.”

While the crazed hybrid female allowed me to breathe, she kept her claws lodged in my throat. If my boss opened fire, I might emerge with my head still attached—maybe.

I bet I could make a fortune with a circus. Working for a circus, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than keeping my fur pretty and showing off my inhuman strength. I’d probably even make more money, as long as I didn’t mind the entire world knowing I was a freak.

“Wait, what?” my boss blurted.

“My future mate gone. You take. He work here. This male do mine’s rounds. He said CDC take. You take.”

“Is your future mate’s name Mr. Jones?”

“My male,” the female snapped.

“Mr. Jones is in the hospital undergoing treatments right now. We didn’t take him. He’s being given medical care.”

“My pack no hurt future mate. I introduce him to pack tonight, but he not here. This male here instead! Want my male.”

“Can you confirm his name?”

“San…” The female snapped her teeth. “Hard like this. My male.”

I liked that the two talked; talking meant I had a substantially higher chance of escaping with only a few holes in my neck, which my virus would heal given a few hours. With Jerome nearby, if the CDC decided I’d bled too much, they’d pump me full of his blood to jumpstart my virus, which would multiply in response to his virus. As he was pack, the viruses would ultimately work together until Jerome’s died out in several days.

The CDC didn’t like doing it because until Jerome’s virus was out of my system, I’d be prone to flying off the handle.

My boss replied, “Take your time and try again.”

“San-tee-ah-go. Jones. Mine.”

“If you can control yourself and your pack, I can arrange for you to see Mr. Jones,” my boss offered. “After, you’ll need to go to the station to answer some questions. You’ll need someone to accompany you from the CDC. Mr. Jones is very sick right now, and you will be drugged if you cause trouble. You’ll need to shift to your human form. The same applies to your pack.”

“You no lie?”

“I make no promises you won’t be fined for attacking a CDC employee, but the CDC does take circumstances into consideration. You’ll have exactly one chance to cooperate before my rifle does the talking.”

“Okay. Trade your male for my male.”

Jerome coughed before whispering, “If you have to shoot her, she might hurt Dale even more.”

“I won’t have to shoot her if she cooperates.”

The female released me and hopped away. “Who hurt my male? Tear apart. Yes. You let me tear apart. This be good.”

The promise of violence got a chuckle out of my boss. “We’re not sure who attacked Mr. Jones yet, but if we find out who, we might even let you have the first crack at him. Now, please shift.” Once the female obeyed, standing naked in the parking lot, my boss barked, “Hose the lot down.”

Neutralizer wouldn’t reverse an infection, but it did kill the virus when outside of the body. Pale, shimmering foam rained down, and the yips of excited lycanthropes filled the air. I itched where the neutralizer got into my open wounds.

There were a lot of them.

“If she takes as much as a single step towards Dale, shoot her,” my boss ordered. Footsteps drew close, and a few moments later, she crouched beside me. “All right, Dale. I need you to keep still and quiet while your virus works its magic. If you can shift to your standard wolf form, you should. You’ve been mauled.”

I bared my fangs at her and growled to display my opinion on her request.

She swatted my snout. “No. You’re going to do as you’re told without snapping at me.”

One little nip wouldn’t hurt, would it? A single drop of my blood could spread my virus to her, a subtle claim on her no one could reverse.

If my virus could speak, it would’ve been singing, Mine, mine, mine.

The click of a safety disengaging alarmed me into rising to all fours, snarling as I searched for the source of the sound. Several cops pointed their weapons at me, waiting in tense silence. I stood and straightened to my full height, restraining the urge to shake.

I didn’t want to infect them, but if they came near my boss while armed, I’d rip them apart.

“Easy, Dale. You’re soaked in blood. It needs to be neutralized.” My boss patted my arm. “Officers, he’s not the issue. The pack attacked him. He’s a CDC employee—one of my contractors. Jerome, please introduce your pack to the police while I take care of Dale.”

“You got it, Ethel.”

Since standing hurt, I crouched at my boss’s feet, snarling and snapping my teeth whenever anyone thought about closing closer. When growling tired me, I kept my teeth visible in silent warning.

I meant to stay on guard for as long as needed, but my virus flew the white flag of surrender. Without it sustaining me, I sank into a semi-conscious daze, aware of only the presence of the woman I had no business desiring but needed anyway.