Wes left the jar of ointment in his bathroom, out of sight in the back of a drawer filled with odds and ends. He knew in his heart that he had to get rid of it, give it back to the owner or just throw it in a dumpster, but he couldn't. He was obsessed with it, and the more obsessed he got the less sleep he got.
Two weeks after seeing his friend trot away to a new life pulling wagons, he tossed and turned in his bed, wondering for the millionth time what to do. And as he lay there, he slowly fell asleep.
He woke up, and instantly knew that something was wrong. It was cold, the wind was whipping though the trees...
Trees?
His eyes popped open and he looked around. He was laying in his underwear on a park bench. It wasn't pitch black, but it was close. Wes had no idea what park this was, in the dark he didn't recognize it, or have any idea how he'd gotten there. It looked like it was on the edge of some woods, which would mean it was miles from his apartment.
All he knew for sure was that he was holding the ointment jar, and it was open. He ran his hands over his skin and flt the cold, slimy material spread all over his skin.
He felt dizzy. Somehow, in the middle of the night, he had awakened and used the jar on himself. He was sure that it was the magic in the jar that had compelled him, too.
Now what was he going to do? He was a walking time bomb. A single touch from a female was going to change him into their idea mate, whether they were human or not!