Fylgja

By Cassandra Vayne

While diligently working late at a veterinary office, Thaddeus steps in to save a raccoon from being mauled to death by a starving stray dog. After tranquilizing both, he turns to find the raccoon is gone and a naked stranger is in its place.

This book contains adult material and is intended for a mature audience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Vayne
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005909130

Cassandra Vayne

Just a woman who loves to write fun, sexy stories.

Book preview

Fylgja is pronounced FILG-yur

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper - without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover art by BeeJavier at SelfPubBookCovers.com/ BeeJavier

Chapter One

The growling I hear out back is the telltale sign of a brawl by the dumpster and someone is losing. Badly. I grab my thick coat, a tranquilizer gun, and dart and load as I head to the back door of the Animal Control building. The battle continues, horrible barking and hissing echoing through the empty corridor after interrupting my hours of paperwork.

Always stick the new kid with the grunt work, it seems. It must be ingrained since I’ve been the new kid for three years and two additional hires.

You’re lucky to have a job! Mama said, followed by Dad’s knowing bob of the head. Thank you, Captain and Lieutenant Obvious.

I don’t mind the work. Aside from being lucky to have work (thanks, Mama) it shows a certain trust to be allowed here after hours all by my lonesome. I’m not just lucky, I’m good at my job. So, I’m not just lucky. I’m good at my job.

Pained cries make me hurry and I open the back door with my hip to keep both hands on the gun. The last thing I need is to be known as the new kid who shot himself in the foot with a tranquilizer dart.

Blood is the first thing I see. It takes a second to refocus on the crimson fur being shaken like a ragdoll in the teeth of a pit bull.

Pit bulls get a bad reputation. I’ve owned two in my lifetime and they were the sweetest, most spoiled babies I’ve ever had the pleasure of raising. But living on the streets does things to a pooch, no matter what the breed. I don’t hesitate to put a dart right in its neck just in case.

The dog drops like an eighty pound, starving animal and a bleeding raccoon tumbles from his mouth. The small animal’s chest still rises and falls with life and I kneel next to it, laying the rifle on the ground. Golden eyes blink up at me in confusion then close.

The wounds look bad and a quick glance in the orange streetlight tells me the raccoon gave as good as he could against a dog twice his size. I take him inside with the gun first so I don’t have to carry anything after the heavy dog.

Once they’re both on tables, I lock the gun away and dress the pit bull’s wounds. The sooner I get him into a cage the better. No telling what he’ll be like when he’s not starving and in competition for food. Lack of tags and the low weight on him don’t give me much hope for a positive attitude from the dog.

Now for my little masked friend. I get one wound cleaned up before the squirming threatens to cause more damage than dog teeth. I give him a needle full of sedative and make sure the poor thing is well asleep as I prepare more sterile needles for stitches, bandages, and fresh latex gloves. With so much drugs in him, I trust the raccoon won’t roll off the table.

Large hands slam down on my shoulders and the