Doctor Sailor was sweating profusely when he appeared at the door of his chambers. His loins burned hugely and his legs quaked within him. The wolf in him was still infuriated and pissed but occasionally he shut his eyes to wade off the urge to morph into it. He couldn’t believe the virus was a success; for my father had taught him countless times that the final success of a virus was its effect in a living host and right now he could tell that he cultured a formidable wolf virus that could stand the test of time. Even right now he could feel the hunger and quest for peril...