Last but Not Leashed_A Magical Romantic Comedy by R. J. Blain

Author:R. J. Blain [Blain, R. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07CQ2MGHH
Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing
Published: 2018-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The tiger stole my toy, and we fought over it, unleashing our nastiest snarls and roars. My toy no longer made noise, but it smelled like candy, and it shimmered whenever I smacked it against hard objects, including the tiger’s head.

Maybe if I hadn’t smacked the tiger with my toy, he wouldn’t have stolen it. I grabbed my toy out of his mouth and pulled. “Mine.”

The tiger refused to let go, and my toy snapped in half. “Damn it, you broke it.”

No longer intact, it wasn’t as much fun to play with, so I slapped the tiger with it before abandoning it. Spitting out the other half of my toy, he roared.

I shifted to my full wolf form, growled, and pounced, snapping my teeth at him without biting.

“What the hell is going on here?” a familiar, female, and infuriated voice demanded.

I scrambled away from the tiger and slapped my paws over my half of the toy so it wouldn’t be taken from me.

“Dale!”

I flattened my ears, hunkered down, and pulled my toy closer to protect it.

“What on Earth has gotten into you?”

“I think he’s high on black dust, Ethel,” a male stated, and he lifted up a large canister, gave it a shake, and sprayed me in the face, chest, and paws with pink foam. “At least the aggression’s worn off.”

The foam made me tingle, and I discarded my toy for the male with the pink foam. Another blast to my muzzle staggered me, and I snapped my teeth at the stream.

It went down my throat, stuck, and choked me. I hacked to get it out, and whining, I pawed my muzzle.

I liked the tingle, but I didn’t like the choking at all.

“Idiot,” the man muttered, shaking his head and pulling out a water bottle. “Drink this.”

Like the foam, the water was pink and shimmered, and I leveled an accusatory glare in his direction. The cranky female took her canister and sprayed the tiger down, who rolled in it and kicked his paws in the air. Once he was thoroughly doused, the female picked up my toy. “This is the first time in my life I’m going to have to write ‘too stupid to live’ as a cause of death. What sort of idiot dusts lycanthropes and stays within reach?”

“Dale, drink,” the male ordered, thrusting the bottle at me.

I snatched it with my teeth, bit down, and shook my head, spraying water everywhere. Some made it down my throat, although most of it spilled. The plastic crunched pleasantly, and I pinned my new toy between my paws and chewed it to pieces.

“Dale,” the male complained.

“He probably has no clue who you are right now, Jerome. He probably won’t remember any of this later, either. His evaluations on this shit are subpar on a good day. And you’re definitely right, it’s black dust. Damned fucking blighters!”

“Violence potential?”

“He violently plays. In human form, he wants nothing more than to wrestle or otherwise annoy us. Anything physical. When we last tested him, I recruited half the damned floor to play dodgeball with him to keep him out of trouble.

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