He growls again, then says, “Willa,” as clear as if he’d spoken English his entire life. “Willa,” he repeats, his golden eyes never leaving mine. I guess his speech was just a bit rusty.
“WarDog are you okay?” Stupid question, I know, but what do you say at a moment like this?
“Bayne,” he croaks in a manner that hints at just how long it’s been since he’s used his mouth for speech.
“Pain? You’re in pain.”
He nods, his head barely moving, then points to his chest and repeats, “Bayne.”
That’s his name. Of course, he has a name other than WarDog.
“How do we get a controller?” I ask the handler, not wanting anything other than to get the fuck out of here before someone detains us or discovers Bayne has no owner and appropriates him.
“The controller is for an owner,” Montem offers. By the way his handler’s gaze pierces him with lighting bolts, he’s risking his safety by telling us this. But he continues, “If he’s free, all you need to do is . . .” he moves swiftly and bends to touch the back of Bayne’s neck “remove—.” He can’t finish his sentence. His handler has pushed the button and both Skylosians shift back to their canine forms.
“Bolt!” Shadow shouts as soon as Bayne has fully changed back to WarDog.
Poor WarDog is moving slowly as we try to hustle him out of the underground area. His spine and hip joints must be screaming in pain having been stretched in different directions in such a short span of time.
Shadow reaches down, lifts the huge animal into his arms as if he was carrying a baby, and the four of us race into the sunlight. The rest of our contingent see us fleeing through the arched entryway, and most run to meet us as we leave the grounds.
A few stay to protect Stryker, who still has to compete in his match.
We’re running to the Fool’s Errand, which is parked maybe four city blocks away. At some point, Shadow hands WarDog off to Steele and we all keep hurrying.
Someone must have comm’d ahead, because Dr. Drayke has a stretcher at the top of the ramp as we board.
“I wish I would have known,” Dr. Drayke says an hour later after he’s removed a small metal device the size of a grain of rice that had been lodged near the top of Bayne’s spine. “I would have removed it the same time we removed the spiked collar the day he boarded. I think he’ll be fine. Let me go to my lab to examine the controller more closely. I’ll leave you two alone.”
Bayne is on a bed in his humanoid form. I’ve been in the room for the entire procedure and when the controller was removed from his spine, I had the opportunity to watch him shift from canine to humanoid again. Now I have the time to inventory him more closely.
He has brown hair with auburn streaks, the same brindle he had in canine form. His ears are closer to the top of his head than at the sides like a human. They’re triangular, like a German Shepherd.
He has the same ruff on his shoulders he had in canine form. It’s the most obvious characteristic of his dual nature.
Otherwise, his lips are fully human although the long canines peeking out between his lips belie his true origins. The nails on his hands and feet are humanoid, not resembling claws in the least.
His lids pop open and our gazes immediately lock. His eyes are beautiful. Mesmerizing. They’re golden. A warm, almost blazing gold that’s so rich and so deep you could dive into them. They are just like WarDog’s—this both shocks and reassures me at the same time.
“Willa,” he says, the look on his face shows rapidly changing emotions I can’t identify. “How long?”
“How long since what?”
“Have I been . . .”
“I’ve known you three months . . . lunars. Before that, I have no idea.”
He closes his eyes and blows a long stream of air through his lips.
“I think it was a long time. Long time. I was in my shifted form maybe . . . annums. My thoughts are cloudy.” He glances around the room as if he’s only just noticing it. “Medical?”
“Medbay, yes.”
“Did we used to . . . share a room?”
“Yes.”
“Can we go back there?”
“Sure,” I say before I give much thought to the fact that we shared it when he was WarDog. Now he’s Bayne. Very handsome, very masculine Bayne.
For a moment, the way he looks at me isn’t humanoid. He’s more like a wolf. The wolf in Little Red Riding Hood who wanted to eat her up.
He’s looking me up and down with undisguised interest. The blanket covering him tents at his hips.
His nose wrinkles as he pointedly looks at the sterile cabinets. “Can we leave this room?”
“Sure.”
I don’t know why I’m saying ‘sure’ when I’m not at all sure this is a good idea. I stand near the bed and let him rest his hand on my shoulder as he rises. He grunts deep in the back of his throat as his feet hit the floor.
“You’re in pain?”
“My spine, hips, and shoulders are screaming. I was in my shifted form too long.”
Dr. Drayke hears him and comes out from his office with a hypo-gun in his hand. “Can I give you something for your pain?” he asks as he motions with the gun.
When Bayne nods, the doc puts it against his shoulder and there is a hiss as he depresses the trigger. “This will help with the pain and stiffness. Take a hot shower. You’ll feel better in about half an hoara. Rest today then slowly increase your activity.” Bayne nods
