Page 8 of Last But Not Leashed

“Nowhere; too high of a risk of spreading the virus. We’ll do the transfusion here, wait for the wounds to close, and hose the lot down again. It’s your lucky day, Dale. You’re about to get a hit of the best pixie dust money can buy, and I get to be the one holding your leash. It’ll be a literal leash, too. We’re going to have a great time.”

“But I was going to take him home with me,” Jerome protested.

“Not while he’s under the influence of pixie dust you’re not. He’s going home with me.”

My flagging virus liked any attention she gave me, but I worried. When my boss sounded so pleased and eager to defy Jerome, she was causing trouble for someone. Me. The kind of trouble I wanted wasn’t up on offer, but as I had no real say in the matter, I surrendered without a fight and hoped for the best.

Sometimes, I was an idiot like that.

My pack laughed at me, and I couldn’t blame them for their mirth. In the bright spotlight illuminating the parking lot, there was no way for me to hide the color of my fur. Jerome’s mate, Allison, laughed the hardest. “This explains so much. Most of us would kill to have the hybrid form, but I can totally understand your hesitancy with that fur color. How long have you had access to the hybrid form, Dale?”

I refused to meet her gaze, turning my head to discover my ex-girlfriend, her mate, Pete, and all six of their puppies staring at me intently.

“Yes, do tell, Dale,” my ex said. “Just how long have you been a hybrid?”

Thanks to the transfusion, which fed Jerome’s blood into my right forepaw, I couldn’t run away and hide, which was my preferred method of dealing with uncomfortable questions. The other way, a silent, reproachful glare, had lost its effectiveness.

“Don’t be so shy,” she muttered. “Are you seriously telling me one of your parents is a hybrid?”

My boss placed her hand on the top of my head, pressing down with enough force I froze, uncertain what had stirred her ire. “Neither of Dale’s parents are hybrids. Until now, the source of his father’s infection was unknown.” When Dana didn’t reply, my boss lifted her hand and turned her attention to the line feeding me a bag of blood stolen from Jerome. “I’ve heard of lycanthropes with this color strain, and they all come from the same place. It’s more unusual that Dale’s father isn’t the same color.”

My boss knew how my father had contracted the lycanthropy virus? I lifted my head and pricked my ears.

“A hot spot near Ocean City,” she explained. “It had a one percent infection rate and flared for a single day before burning out. Your father puts the known count of infected up to nine individuals, assuming we can confirm the strain through a blood test. You might just be an oddity.”

I flatted my ears and whined.

She rolled her eyes. “A handsome oddity. Does that make you feel better? Come on, Dale. I never pegged you as the type to have self-esteem issues. You’re usually so confident and comfortable with yourself.”

While it pleased me I’d managed to fool her, I worried she’d be disappointed in the truth. Me? Confident? I couldn’t even shift to my wolf without wanting to hide.

“You think he’s handsome?” my ex blurted.

I flinched at the astonishment in Dana’s voice, but I didn’t quite dare to growl, not with Pete and her puppies nearby.

“Darlin’, if you weren’t aware he could leave a trail of dropped panties and panting ladies in his wake, you haven’t been paying attention.” My boss huffed, shook her head, and checked the bag. “Next bag, Jerome. Still your blood?”

“There’s one of mine left. Allison has three of hers waiting in the cooler. If that doesn’t jumpstart his virus, he’s going to need at least a week of peace and quiet to recover.”

“Meter,” my boss ordered.

I growled and attempted to tuck my paws under me so I wouldn’t be subjected to yet another poke. Jerome joined forces with my boss, holding me by the scruff so she could stab me and check my virus levels.

“Still low, but not dangerously so,” she reported. “Do the rest of the bags while I call the neutralizer tanker back so we can hose the place down again. Allison, think you can run the rest of the bags into him at one time so we aren’t here all night?”

Jerome’s mate snickered. “He has four paws, so I don’t see why not. He’s going to be so hopped up on the virus you really will need to dose him with pixie dust to control him once we’re done.”

“I’m calling in for the dust along with the tanker. If I have to dose him, he really is coming home with me since I’m the only idiot in the area with the right training to handle someone under the influence of the highest grades of pixie dust. Try not to let him give you the slip while I’m gone. There’s been enough excitement for one day.”

Infecting an already infected lycanthrope with high concentrations of the virus usually led to trouble, a blood bath, or both. Sometime between stabbed with a meter and stuffed full of virus-contaminated blood, my boss lived up to her threat of dosing me with the type of pixie dust the CDC kept under lock and key.

Within minutes of the injection, I went from snarling my discontent to trying to purr. Purring wasn’t one of my skillsets, and it emerged more as a rumbly growl, but I tried anyway.

Why couldn’t wolves purr? I wanted to purr.

At my boss’s order, someone hosed me down with neutralizer, and I rolled in the foam, wagging my tail and kicking my paws at the way it made my skin tingle.

“Dale, please come here,” she ordered.