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.
