“Because that’s what we do. You’ll get used to it. If you have any more questions, give me a call.”
“Do I have to call you if I opt against returning Wayne to you sometime this week?”
“As I expect you’ll be too busy to bother with calling me, no. Just call if you keep him longer than a week, please. If you keep him longer than Wednesday, you might want to have him inform someone he’s alive and well.”
I thought about it, pondering how much trouble I could get us in with an entire week to work with. “Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good night, and if you’re not used to affection, yes, Wayne would be happy to simply cuddle close while watching a movie. Tell him your limits. He’ll respect them, so you have nothing to worry about. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I hope you do take advantage of what he can offer. We’re not meant to be alone. Your virus will appreciate it, and it’ll give you a good taste of pack life. Packs are family. We’re often strange and dysfunctional families, but that’s what we are at the end of the day.”
James hung up on me, and I handed Wayne his phone. “He’s weird, isn’t he?”
“At times. Are you planning to return me sometime this week, or should I suggest that my staff do their very best to survive without me for a while?”
“I’ll think about it.” If he wanted more from me than that, he’d have to earn it.
Chapter Seven
Life rarely workedas I wanted.
My wolf wanted Wayne’s clothes to have a terrible accident. Given ten minutes and a scrap of motivation, I would have agreed with her. Instead of a cuddle session with a movie, an ankle-biting corgi crashed through the hotel window with the tabby cat lycanthrope and the three wolves hot in pursuit.
Pixie dust fixed a lot of problems, but it couldn’t solve five lycanthropes with no sense and a death wish. The pleasant high, as though I’d been wrapped in a warm, soft, and fluffy blanket, vanished without a trace and left only rage in its wake.
Wayne, who had grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, sipped his drink, raised a brow, and observed the five furry assholes make a mess of the room, shaking glass out of their coats.
“I still propose they write ‘too stupid to live’ on their death certificates, Joyce,” he said, saluting me with his wine glass. “Enjoy—”
The corgi went for Wayne with bared teeth and snarls.
My wolf took offense to her territory being violated, and before I realized what she was doing, she grabbed the perfume bottle and flung it in the cat’s face. The tabby yowled, hissed, and pawed at its face. Lunging off the couch, my wolf went for the corgi, grabbed him by his scruff, gave him a shake, and snarled so he could take a good look down our throat. My first breath confirmed I held the brute, which tripped my virus’s trigger.
She wanted to paint the hotel with his blood.
I saw no reason to stop her.
She threw the corgi at the house cat, and the two crashed into the wall.
The three wolves changed directions and lunged for me. I slashed the first across across the muzzle, and blood sprayed. The second got a hold of my left calf, hard enough I’d be limping for a few days even after transforming. Wayne sat straighter, and his eyes flared a bright yellow. With slow, deliberate movements, he loosened his tie.
My wolf wanted me to stop everything to admire Wayne. Growling over her perverted tendencies and willingness to get us killed for some nice scenery, I reached down, grabbed the wolf by the scruff of his neck, and peeled him off. His teeth tore into me, but as he was in the way of giving my wolf a chance to admire Wayne stripping, I went the route of least resistance, flinging my arm out and slamming the bastard into the wall, stuffing him in and shoving down to keep him busy for a while.
The wolf yipped.
I reached into the hole and clobbered him on the head until he shut up.
Wayne raised a brow and continued to loose his tie, as he regarded the other two wolves, who wisely retreated. “You really don’t want me to get involved, gentlemen.”
The remaining wolves had enough sense to think about Wayne’s warning.
But they lacked the sense to turn tail and run.
They went for me again. My wolf approved, and as she wanted to take her frustrations out on them, I gave her full control.
Even before becoming a lycanthrope, I’d been the type to only fight when necessary, and little had changed beyond my willingness to get into harm’s way; the virus did a damned good job of cranking my survivability through the roof.
I owed my wolf, and if she wanted to beat the shit out of a pair of idiots who’d made the first move, I wasn’t going to stop her. Their bites hurt, but I ignored the pain.
They had nothing on the asshole who’d almost stolen my life in some dark city alley.
