A week of constant exposure to Sebastian had been enough to flip the polarity of my blood, allowing him to meet the CDC’s standards to be a blood donor for a lycanthrope under sedation. Between my virus levels being so low and the procedure itself, I lost two days of my life. Once I began emerging from unconsciousness, I got to enjoy the highest grade of pixie dust to keep me from causing trouble.
As the spa in our hotel in Chicago employed and worked with lycanthropes, they agreed to handle the application of creams and work with the surgeons to make sure I emerged with minimal scars.
The procedure worked, although I’d have a few thin scars near my hairline, on my wrist, and along my sides. Most wouldn’t notice them, and in a few years, time might work its magic on them and help them fade.
A week after the operation, I emerged from the pixie dust haze in the suite, which had a disconcerting number of wrapped presents and gift bags littering every surface. I yawned from my place on the couch, stretched out with my head on Sebastian’s lap. “Why are there so many presents?”
“You like presents, and I wasn’t allowed in the spa for your treatments, so I bought you presents while I was waiting. Some presents are from the family of the women you rescued. You’ve been exceptionally well behaved at the spa even drugged, so you got extra presents from the staff. I think the CDC has been adding to some of the presents on behalf of the women you rescued. They were able to lead the police to the children, we were able to clear the politician of wrongdoing, and they were willing to undergo angelic verification regarding their kidnapping and rape. We got leads on some other accomplices, and they’ve been apprehended. Unfortunately, one has already been killed while in prison, as it had gotten out he was murdering women post-delivery. The Loureni brothers were giving the women to this crook of a surgeon, who would deliver the infants through cesarean section before killing the women and studying their reproductive organs before dumping the bodies. It turns out even hardened criminals don’t approve of that sort of behavior. It would have been more merciful if you had been the one to kill him.”
“If I don’t have a fixed face, don’t tell me about it for a while.”
“Your scars are gone, and you’ve passed your last exam. The creams did their work, your virus levels are still low but recovering, and I’m to take you home for a week of general relaxation. The CDC has submitted medical leave documentation to your work in case you don’t actually want to quit.”
“I definitely want to quit.”
“Well, you have a month to give notice, then. They cited an emergency operation without notifying your work of the nature of the surgery. Unfortunately, your boss knows your parents, and the notice was put in yesterday.”
Crap. “Have you spoken to my parents?”
“Only enough to tell them you were fine and recovering, and that you would tell them about it yourself as soon as you are ready to travel. That can be as early as tomorrow. Tonight, I’m to fulfill all of your needs, and we’ll leave in the morning. I also got you a lot of products from the spa for your skin, as you’ve likely never cared much about it before now, so I assumed you had a lot of makeup to make your face disappear but not a lot of products meant to keep your skin healthy.”
I rolled off Sebastian’s lap, got to my feet, and went to the bathroom to check the mirror.
I’d seen the woman staring back at me in photographs, images of what might have been if only I hadn’t been caught in a fire as a child. I touched my cheek, which was soft, warm, and smooth beneath my fingers, no longer bearing any sign I’d once faced death so many years ago.
I couldn’t tell if I wanted to laugh or cry.
“Is this really me, Sebastian?”
He joined me in the bathroom. “As I can verify I have not been taking any woman to my bed other than you, yes. That’s really you. In case you were curious, pixie dust does turn you into a lion-hunting fiend, your words. That was part of why I was evicted from the hotel for your treatments. You kept trying to hunt me, and unless I left the building, you would not be deterred. I enjoy being the king of your jungle.”
I bet he did. “Was it as good for me as it was for you?”
“With you that high on pixie dust? You were just fine. How do you like it?”
I regarded my new face. “Nobody is going to flinch anymore, Sebastian.”
“I expect you’ll get catcalls, because everyone will now see what I’ve known all along. You’re beautiful.”
I wondered how long it would be before I recognized my reflection in the mirror. “I won’t scare the kittens anymore.”
“No, you won’t. Are you ready to see your parents?”
“Well, now that they know I’ve had emergency surgery thanks to my boss, it’s probably a good idea. Can I hide behind you? I’m not sure what they’re going to say.”
“They’re going to ask how you afforded it, I’m sure.”
“I’ll just tell them I’m secretly an assassin, I kill people for a living, and that I moonlight as a customer service representative.”
“So, the truth?”
“They won’t believe me.” I giggled. “Me? Murder people for pay? Never.”
“You are a very bad kitty. In bad news, we’re going to have to have all of your presents shipped to my house, as there is no way they’re going to fit in the car.”
“No kidding. Any boxes I should take with me?”
Sebastian took hold of my arm and pulled me back into the sitting room, pointing at a white-wrapped box on the coffee table. “That one contains a ring, and I’m hoping when I grovel to you on my knees, you’ll agree to marry me despite lynxes not often marrying.”
“That’s an engagement ring?”
“There are two matching wedding rings in the box, too. Finding the perfect ring for you kept me busy when I had to make myself scarce.” Sebastian considered the other boxes, pointing at a wrapped clothing box. “That’s a sexy secretary outfit.”
“That goes in the car for certain. Where’s the box with your leash?”
To my astonishment, he pointed at a small, square box. “Cuffs, leash… close enough.”
“Meow, Mr. Mane.” I bounced to the box, picked it up, and tore into the paper, revealing the promised handcuffs, two pairs, with fuzzy wraps meant to keep confinement comfortable. “You are such a naughty kitty.”
“I’m not the naughty one if you’re the one handling the cuffs.”
Well, then. “To the bedroom, lion. Prepare to be ravished at my leisure.”
To keep my family from freaking out, we blitzed back home from Chicago. Sebastian handled most of the driving, as while I no longer needed the creams to keep my skin from returning to its scarred state, I lasted no more than two hours before I needed a nap.
My virus would need another few weeks to recover from an over-exposure to drugs, the operation, my lion-hunting ways, and the lynx-hunting ways of my lion. Per the CDC’s orders, Sebastian made a point of feeding me after every nap to help my virus replicate, and he limited his lynx-hunting ways to no more than once per day.
I loathed and abhorred everything about the CDC, and I would until they lifted my lion’s ban on lynx hunting.