Oops, I Fed My Future Boss Instead of the Wolf

I had just received my offer from Silvermoon Biotech when my aunt Mara Carter mailed me the keys to her home. Mara was a doctor. She lived in a townhouse with a basement clinic, where she occasionally treated werewolves who couldn't go to a regular hospital. Over the past few years, she had saved injured wolf pups and treated silver burns for werewolves who had escaped the black market. Other people took in packages; Mara took in wolves. Other people stocked snacks at home; she stocked hemostats. None of it surprised me anymore. This time, Mara had to leave on an unexpected business trip, so she told me to stay in the guest room upstairs. "Someone brought me a big gray wolf that was poisoned. He's in the kennel out back," she explained over the phone. "Don't open the kennel. Give him an extra serving of medicated meat every night. He has a temper, so keep your distance." "You picked up another wild wolf?" "I didn't pick him up." She paused, then added, "His name is Shadow. He'll respond when you call him. Don't be afraid if he bares his teeth. He doesn't bite people he knows, and after you feed him a few times, he'll know you." Someone on the other end called Mara into surgery. She hurriedly sent me the code to her townhouse. "The medicated meat is portioned out in the warming cabinet outside the treatment area in the basement. Take one serving each day and deliver it to the kennel out back. Just slide it through the hatch on the side. If he refuses to eat, pry his mouth open and feed him. Oh, and don't take off the collar around his neck. One more thing..." She lowered her voice. "Stay away from the coded door in the back. A hospital patient is temporarily quarantined there." After that familiar wolf-training spiel, I made a point of buying two sticks of smoked jerky from the butcher on the corner. My plan was to collect the medicated meat from the basement and then take it to the kennel. One of the basement's motion-sensor lights was broken. The stairs grew darker the farther I descended, and the air smelled of disinfectant, herbs, and damp fur. I had just found the warming cabinet in the hall when a short alarm sounded at the far end. The coded door Mara had warned me to avoid sprang open on its own. Had Shadow gotten inside? "Here, boy. Shadow?" I shook the paper bag of jerky and bent down to peer inside. A long gray-black tail hung over the side of the bed. Its fur was tangled, and the tip had been secured to a bedpost. At the rustle of the bag, the tail swept irritably across the floor and knocked over a medicine bottle. I took two steps inside before I could stop myself. There was no wolf on the bed. There was only a man. He wore a loose black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing several scabbed scratches on his arms. Gray-black wolf ears rose through his short hair. A thin black line left by the poison ran from behind his left ear and disappeared beneath his collar. The most striking thing was the metal treatment collar around his neck. A clear tube connected to it, slowly pumping blue medicine into his body. A small display embedded in the side showed a gray wolf curled into a ball. A red light flashed beside one word: Agitated. The metal had rubbed a raw red groove around his neck, and the skin near the clasp was broken. I stood frozen in the doorway as the jerky in my hand drooped toward the floor. The "Shadow" and "big gray wolf" Mara had mentioned was an adult werewolf who couldn't put away his ears or tail. And he was incredibly handsome. At the sound of my footsteps, the man looked up at me. His irises were the palest silver. His gaze first landed beside my shoulder, then took several seconds to find my face. "Did Mara send you?" His voice was hoarse, and there was nothing friendly about his tone. Instead of answering, I gave the treatment room a quick once-over. It had no windows, and an electronic lock was installed outside the door. There were medicines and nutritional supplements by the bed, but no phone, wallet, or ID. The medical chart on the wall had no name, only a code: Moon-01. A chill crept down my back. This didn't look like any medical quarantine I had ever heard of. I wanted to believe it was simply an unusual treatment, but his tail was tied down, his name had been erased, and he had no way to contact the outside world. It looked less like treatment and more like someone was hiding a prisoner. Had my aunt imprisoned a werewolf? "Who are you?" the man asked. I gripped the phone in my pocket. If Mara truly was holding him against his will, telling him I was her niece would only make him more suspicious of me. "Anna," I lied on the spot. "I'm the new caregiver." The man studied me in silence. The poison probably affected his vision, because his gaze always needed a moment to focus on me. Even so, he radiated enough pressure to keep me frozen in place. "Who gave you permission to come in?" "Mara gave me the code." At my aunt's name, his wolf ears flattened slightly. "Get out." "I'm only here to bring you your medicine." "I don't need it." I glanced at the restraint around his tail. "Is that part of your treatment too?" He followed my gaze, and his long gray-black tail snapped rigid. "Don't touch it." "I wasn't going to." "Your eyes say otherwise." Embarrassed, I hid the jerky behind my back. "What's your name?" He looked at me again. "You don't know who I am?" "Mara didn't tell me, and it isn't on your chart." The man frowned. That made me even more certain someone had deliberately concealed his identity. What legitimate patient had no name and no way to contact the outside world? I looked into the empty hall, took another half-step closer, and lowered my voice. "Are you being kept here against your will? If Mara locked you up without your consent, I can contact a werewolf rights organization for you." He went still. "You're going to rescue me?" "Keep your voice down. There are cameras in here. I'll find out how to open the door and remove your treatment collar. Don't let Mara know we discussed this." He closed his eyes, and a muscle twitched in his temple. The gray wolf on the collar's display lifted its head as the red light flashed and turned orange. I didn't know what it meant, but the tips of his ears had turned red. Was that a sign the poison was about to flare up? I didn't dare provoke him further, so I picked up the bowl of medicine from the table. A layer of fat had congealed over the cold meat broth. Not exactly appetizing. "Eat your medicine first." "Take it away." "You're already weak." He lifted a hand to knock the bowl over. I dodged in time and saved the soup, but the bag behind my back fell to the floor. Both sticks of smoked jerky rolled to his feet. The treatment room fell silent. He looked down at the jerky, then slowly raised his gaze to mine. "Who is that for?" "I thought you were a wolf." "I'm not?" "I meant a regular wolf." His expression grew colder by the second. I was about to retrieve the jerky when his nose twitched. His flattened ears slowly pricked up, and for the first time, his silver gaze landed precisely on the gland at the side of my neck. I instinctively covered it. His gray tail lifted from the bed and, beyond his control, angled its tip toward me. "An Omega." Disbelief sharpened his voice. "Mara dared send an Omega into my room."