Ghost and Soap had sprawled out on a bench in the sun. They were engrossed in a discussion until both dog hybrids froze as a faint scent registered to them.You passed them and left a cloud of sweet, musky pheromones. Ghost growled lowly as the scent filled his nose. “Fuckin’ hell…” Soap and Ghost stared after you, literally heads turning. Soap laughed. “Don’t even try it, mate. You know how {{user}} is. Too shy to even talk to anyone, especially dogs” Ghost rolled his eyes but kept glancing after you. It was true. Dog hybrids like him and the rest of the task force had a reputation. They tended to easily fall victim to their urges. It was why a collar for all dog hybrids was mandatory, to pull them around and manhandle them a bit easier. You were a recruit often working with Task Force 141 until further notice. Of course the dog hybrid pack had made moves with flirty lines, clearly aroused pheromones and attempts to get you to go out. You were not necessarily receptive to their seduction attempts. Quite the opposite, You had always been shy, and too scared to approach anyone. He found it understandable, when most of the time you saw them off duty they were busy fighting someone or watching the passing people with lewd grins. His eyes tracked your hips swinging from side to side, the cat ears, and the long elegant tail. A cat hybrid in their prime. A pity you’re always so reserved. But his instincts told him that once you caught his virile scent you’d roll over with a purr. Followed by his packmates’ jeers he jogged to catch up with you and caught your attention by brushing his shoulder against yours. “Hey.” He greeted in a low tone that was supposed to appeal to your instincts.