“Lycanthropes are resilient, but they are not as resilient to fire as they might like.”
I raised a brow. “You want me to char him?”
“I don’t want this guy getting back up when you’re done with him.”
Right. I could do that. “Understood, Lenny.”
“Good. I’ll get a bounty set up in the system for you. Accept it before you settle down for the night. I’ll leave you to discuss the details. Wayne, call me if there’s any trouble.”
“You got it.”
Wayne gathered his briefcase, shook his head at the general destruction in the room, and while his boss left through the window, he headed for the door. “Let’s get moved to a more secure room, then we’ll talk.”
Right. Talk. My wolf wanted nothing to do with talking, especially not after having heard details about the source of my infection, which had given her life through me.
She wanted two things.
She wanted to secure Wayne as ours, and she wanted blood.
I was running out of reasons to deny giving her both.
Chapter Eight
If the assholelycanthropes wanted a piece of me, they’d have to scale to the top floor of the hotel to get it, and they’d have to skirt around a mob of angry cops and FBI agents. While I’d seen law enforcement types get protective of their own, they’d all seemed to take a great deal of offense to the corgi, the tabby cat, and the pack of wolves interfering with our night.
The entire thing baffled me.
“You’re confused,” Wayne stated while taking a look around the room, which was even nicer than the one on the ground floor. He emptied his pockets onto the coffee table, although he kept his phone with him. “First, yes, the hotel’s insurance will cover the damages to the room, and it’s entirely possible they will be awarded additional damages, especially since you’d captured one of them. Yes, Lenny is my boss, but I’m not a full-time agent. I’m on call as a specialist. I’m a hybrid, I’m a pack beta, and I can often talk my way out of a lot of situations. They bring me in when they don’t want something to escalate. View me as a mediator. Because I’m a lycanthrope, I’m perfectly capable of taking a beating, but when they don’t want rounds fired, they bring me in. I’m badged, and I can legally carry a firearm, but I usually don’t have a gun with me. I can just shift and handle most situations that way. When I’m not working as a negotiator, I’m usually working with the vics while they’re undergoing medical treatments, and I help them get through questioning, handle an attorney if they need one, and otherwise make sure they get the help they need.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“That’s the whole point. You’re not supposed to guess.” Wayne set his briefcase on the coffee table and retrieved his laptop, turning it on to make certain it had survived through the excitement in the other room. It had. Once satisfied nothing had been ruined, he moved the bags of our new clothing to the bedroom and checked the bathroom, which had an even bigger tub than the other room. “So, that’s my dirty secret. I’m a businessman by day, FBI agent by night. I signed up for training with the FBI when it became clear the virus was going to beat the cancer, and they wanted to do some trials with newly infected lycanthropes in peaceful roles within the FBI. Negotiators, trauma specialists, and even the equivalent of badged social workers. Trials like mine make it better for other lycanthropes. They weren’t expecting me to develop the hybrid form, although James has it. Unmated males rarely pick it up without having a parent or mate with the hybrid form. You must have startled them when you developed the hybrid form.”
“A little. They figured my virus worked so hard to keep me alive, so she just developed better than most. And she really doesn’t like the source virus. She gets pissed off whenever anyone mentions him.”
“Is she angry now?”
I shook my head. “She’s pretty relaxed right now.”
“That’s probably one part pixie dust, one part perceived safety. That’s why pack structure is so important for lycanthropes. Being around other lycanthropes in a safe environment settles the virus. Being affectionate with other members of the pack makes the virus happy. To start with, you can get used to cuddling up with me. When you’re comfortable, I’ll introduce you to James and Laurie. After that, we’ll get you used to the rest of the pack. In any case, I’ll make sure you have a private place to hide if you’re not ready to interact with them. The Massapequa house has plenty of space, and you can lock yourself in your office if push comes to shove. They’re more likely to show up unexpectedly at the Long Island property, though. I’ll make sure they give you the space you need. You virus should settle down within a few weeks. It won’t take long for you to see they mean well.”
“And I’ll have to see you every day.”
“That’s right. Ideally, you’ll enjoy seeing me every day. If I’m particularly lucky, you’ll want to cuddle with me every day after work. I think we would both benefit from an intensive cuddling therapy plan. We could tie it in with your lease agreement. That would give me five years to convince you, using intensive cuddling techniques, that you should stick around.”
My virus’s opinion hadn’t changed: she wanted Wayne out of his clothes, and she wanted him out of his clothes immediately. She also wanted the blood of the asshole who’d almost beaten me to death in an alley, but she wanted Wayne first.
I found it difficult to negotiate with the furry pervert, who had liked Wayne from the start.
He’d secured his hold on the furry pervert of a virus through the clever offering of my favorite foods, too. I feared it would take one more salad to completely reduce her to a drooling mess. I would likely break under the first decent steak to cross my path, something I hadn’t been able to treat my virus to thanks to my shitty financial situation.
“Tell me about your daily life.”
He chuckled, headed into the bathroom, engaged the stopper on the tub, and turned on the faucet. “Do you like your water cool, warm, or so steamy we fog up every mirror on the entire floor?”
The only kind of steamy my virus wanted involved removal of clothes and a bed. I did the equivalent of smack her across her furry nose with a newspaper to settle her down and replied, “My virus isn’t picky, and neither am I.”
I toed the line of telling terrible lies, and my virus huffed her displeasure over my more methodical approach to Wayne, his clothing, and the bathtub.
