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"Dahlia Baldwin, you sneaky bitch! I thought you were working on virus research, not auditioning for 'The Bachelorette: Supernatural Edition'!"

I can't help but laugh. "It wasn't exactly planned."

"Details. Now. I want every single dirty detail."

"I don't even know where to start."

"Start with who's the best in bed," Emily suggests immediately.

"Em!"

"What? It's a perfectly valid scientific inquiry. You're all about data collection, right?"

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "They're all... different."

"Different how? Like different positions? Different sizes? Different techniques?"

"Yes, to all of the above," I mutter, feeling my cheeks burn hotter.

"Oh my god," Emily gasps. "You've slept with all of them, haven't you? My little scientist is a total sex goddess!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Four hot guys would disagree," she counters. "So, which one has the biggest…"

"I am not discussing penis sizes with you!"

"Fine, fine. But at least tell me who made you come the hardest."

I close my eyes, remembering each encounter. "They all have their... strengths."

"That's a diplomatic answer. Very political. I hate it," Emily declares. "Give me something juicy!"

"Onyx is very... primal," I admit, lowering my voice even though I'm alone. "Leo is surprisingly gentle despite looking like he could bench press a car. Axl is creative, and Evan is... intense."

"Intense how? Like Christian Grey intense or serial killer intense?"

"Neither! Just... focused. Like everything he does with maximum effort and precision."

"Sounds exhausting," Emily remarks.

"In the best possible way," I find myself saying before I can stop the words.

Emily's cackle makes me wince. "Look at you! All flustered and horny just thinking about it!"

"I am not horny," I lie.

"Your voice goes up half an octave when you're turned on. It's doing it right now."

"Can we please talk about something else?" I beg, swiveling back to my computer screen.

"Fine, but this conversation isn't over. So, what are you working on that's so important you've ghosted your bestie?"

I sigh with relief at the change of subject. "The Crimson Plague. It's a virus that's killing shifters."

"That sounds serious."

"It is. And now the government is using it as an excuse to round up all shifters for 'containment,'"