by Renee Rose
Sirens sound nearby.
A wolf barks, sharp and loud. It sounds like an order.
Jackson scoops me into his arms and runs outside. I stare over his shoulder at Stu’s lifeless body. At a man who righted the scales of justice in the end. Became a hero in death, instead of a criminal. Something about his act righted more than this fucked up situation. It feels like redemption for my father’s death, too. Like the universe owed me. No, like the universe is showing me proof that there’s still good. That I can trust more than just family.
Hell, all around are people—shifters—who showed up to help me. Shifters who don’t even know me.
Sam is by the Range Rover, yanking on a pair of jeans when we get there. He throws the door to the back seat open for his pack brother, and Jackson climbs in, still holding me. Sam jumps in the driver’s seat and starts the vehicle, driving off without turning on the lights. The sirens grow louder.
I lay my heavy head in Jackson’s lap and close my eyes, the pain too much. He continues to stroke my fur and murmur softly and I believe—no, I know, without a shadow of a doubt—that finally, for once in my life, everything is going to turn out right.
~.~
Jackson
The first rays of light come up over the mountains as Sam pulls into my garage.
On my orders, he stopped to pick up Jacqueline. I knew how worried her grandmother had been, and vice versa. I want Kylie to have all the support she needs, especially considering it’s her first shift. While the shift was necessary for her survival, she may not know how to shift back when the time comes.
I carry her in. Sam tries to carry Jacqueline, but the old cat insists on walking on her own, leaning heavily on Sam. We install them both in the upstairs guest bedroom. Jacqueline shifts and curls her body up beside Kylie’s, lending her purring vibrations for her granddaughter’s healing.
I sit beside the bed, my heart rammed up behind my chin, my fingers moving over Kylie’s sleek black fur.
She’s fucking magnificent. A huge black panther with golden eyes. Truly awe-inducing. It’s the first time in my life anything’s made sense. Of course my wolf chose this incredible female. She’s everything I could ever hope for in a mate—strong, brilliant, beautiful. And a shifter.
Morning comes on like a freight train, my phone ringing off the hook with calls. I leave the room so I won’t disturb Kylie, then give orders and make statements on calls with Luis, Sarah in PR, and the CFO at SeCure. The money has been restored—all of it. I tell Luis to have SeCure take credit for the reversal because I know, without a glimmer of a doubt, who is responsible. My star employee, Kylie McDaniel.
When I come back into the room, Kylie’s breathing flows even and relaxed, her wounds already closed.
“Looks like all the money is back where it belongs. You did that, didn’t you, beautiful?” I murmur, rubbing her cheek. She pushes into my hand.
“Can you change back, kitten? Bring Kylie back?”
The great cat’s eyes widen. As I feared, she doesn’t know how.
“When Sam tried to lose himself on a California mountainside, I stood on his throat and demanded he transform. The animal can take over, if you go too long without the human side. You forget who you are.”
Jacqueline shifts and re-dresses. She murmurs to Kylie in French. I catch words I understand here and there. “Find” and “quiet” and “remember.” I don’t know if it’s different for cats, so I’m glad Jacqueline is there to help.
Kylie moves restlessly. Her eyes open and close, paws flex, showing enormous, sharp claws. She rolls over and stands up on the bed. Rolls back down to her side.
Jacqueline speaks again, a constant stream of coaching.
Kylie claws the bed, shredding the sheets and blankets.
“Come back to me, kitten. I want to kiss you,” I murmur.
She turns her golden eyes on me, and our gazes lock. Neither of us seem to breathe. Finally, the air around her shimmers.
“That’s it, baby,” I encourage, but the shimmer fades. “You were onto it there. Try again. I need to kiss that pretty mouth of yours.”
The air shimmers again, and Kylie appears, pale, but even more beautiful than I remember.
“Baby.” I lunge to wrap a blanket around her and pull her up into my arms.
“Where’s the kiss you promised?” she croaks.
“Get her some water,” I bark at Sam, who’s leaning in the doorway. He immediately disappears.
“Well?” she demands.
I don’t hold back. I claim her mouth with every bit of ferocity inside me. The need to possess, claim, mark, mate her flood from me in a torrent. The need to punish her for taking a bullet meant for me. The need to show her my love, my affection, my promise to be there for her next time. Not to let her down the way I did this time. I part her lips with my tongue, twine around hers. I slant my mouth over hers, demanding more, taking it all. I drink her in. I devour her.
“I’m so damn sorry,” I croak when we finally part, both gasping for air. “I will never let you walk away from me again. I’ll never leave you. That’s a goddamn promise.”
She smiles weakly, and I’m reminded of the fragile state of her health. A stab of guilt for kissing her so hard pricks me.
Sam returns with the water, and I snatch it from him to hand to my mate. “Jeez, man. Is this how it’s going to be for the whole pregnancy?”
Everyone in the room freezes as I flip his words over in my head.
Pregnancy?
Jesus. Yes. Kylie’s scent has changed. Victory pummels me like a meteor. My wolf does a double backflip and moonwalks in a circle around Kylie while fist pumping. She’s carrying my pup. My pup.
Jacqueline covers her mouth. “Mon Dieu,” she breathes then launches herself at us, clucking rapidly in French.
Kylie’s bewilderment blooms into moist eyes.
I clutch her against my body, my wolf fiercely protective even with no present threat. “That’s how you shifted, kitten. My cub’s DNA tipped the scale.”
She laughs through her tears. “I’m pregnant? How do you know? Are you sure?”
Jacqueline, Sam, and I all nod. “Your scent has changed, baby. You’re pregnant.” Tears prick my eyes.
Jacqueline and Sam have the grace to slip out of the room, closing the door behind them.
“Kitten, I knew you were my mate from the moment you walked into that elevator. I need you. You’re the only person I’ve trusted, the only thing I’ve believed in. Ever. I can play games with you right now, pretend I’m offering you a choice to be my mate or not, but the fact is, you’re mine. You run, I’ll follow. You hide, I’ll find you. So, please, make it easy on both of us, and tell me that you’ll stay.”
Kylie purses her lips and whistles. “That might be the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”
I can’t fight the smile tugging my mouth. “Is that a yes?”
She gives me a long look—long enough I stop breathing, have to force myself not to fidget. “I’m still mad at you for not believing in me.”
I cradle her cheek. “I know. I fucked up. But I promise I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You and your grandmother will rule my fucking life.”
Her eyes mist again, and she leans her forehead against mine. “I thought you were the one who liked to rule.”
“Mmm hmm. Yes. Always. Can you live with it?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate this time, and I nearly fall down with relief. “There’s just one small problem.”
My shoulders tense. “What is that?”
“I’m wanted by the FBI.”
“I’m fixing that,” I promise. “Garrett stayed to stage the bodies at the warehouse so it appears Stu and his cohorts killed each other. You will be given all the credit for the recovery of the money. Don’t think of it again.” I can’t stop my hands from roaming over her soft skin, sliding up inside her T-shirt to cup her breasts. “The only thing you need to worry about is growing our baby.”
She tips back her head, offering me her mouth again, and I claim it, scarcely believing she’s truly mine.
“When are you going to mark me?” Her voice sounds husky, not afraid.
“Just as soon as you’re recovered, baby. Right after I turn that pretty ass red for taking the bullet meant for me.”
She wiggles her ass in my lap. “You know you’ll always be my hero.” She touches my face. “I just couldn’t watch helplessly while another person I love got killed.”
My heart ricochets around my chest. “You love me?”
She laughs the husky laugh that drives me wild. “I love you, wolf. I’ve told you that, before.”
“I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“I love you, I love you, I—”
I shut her up with a kiss, smothering her mouth with mine, stroking her lips, joining our tongues. “I love you, kitten. You’re home now.”
She let her head fall back and closed her eyes. “Yes,” she sighed. “You are my home.”
Epilogue
One month later
Kylie
“Pull that skirt up, baby. Let me see what’s waiting for me when we get home.” My mate hasn’t grown any less bossy since marking me. Our drive home from work together has become just one of the many pleasures of working for Jackson King. Shared lunch breaks are another one. And getting to help him with his new code.
He stares over at me like a starving man. Like he hadn’t already fucked me over his desk after using a ruler on my ass during lunch. Like he doesn’t have full access to me every night at home.
“Now, kitten. Every second you make me wait will earn you a stroke with my belt.”
I already reached for the hem of my tight fitted skirt, but I stop now, flashing a naughty grin. “Is that so?”
Now that I’ve switched on my shifter DNA, my body heals almost instantaneously, which means Jackson can employ any form of punishment he desires and the pain is only fleeting. It’s a bit sad, really. Because now I can never get enough.
Jackson grasps the fabric and rucks my skirt up to my waist, tearing the fabric with the force of it. He slaps my thighs apart. “Show me what’s mine.” His voice is thick. I love hearing him like this, halfway gone with desire for me. Now that he knows I’m a shifter, he’s not afraid to be rough with me.
Last full moon, he installed me in his cabin again and claimed me in every position, angle, and orifice ever invented. I’d thought he’d been insatiable last time, when he’d been trying not to mark me, but it turns out mating him doesn’t ensure my safety when the moon is full.
Not that I’d ever complain.
I reach down and stroke the notch between my legs. “You looking at this?” I purr.
He bites out a curse. “Off,” he growls. “Panties down or I tear them off.”
I make a show of shimmying out of my panties and dangle them in front of his face while he drives.
He snatches them, brings them to his nose, and inhales deeply before shoving them into his breast pocket. He’s in a suit today, which had me wet all day. I love when he wears his CEO garb almost as much as I love the tight T-shirts and jeans.
“This, baby.” He reaches across the car and wedges his hand between my legs. “Open those thighs wider for me. I need to see my pussy.”
I attempt to obey, but it couldn’t be seen anyway because his fingers are tap-tap-tapping, spanking my clit and my feminine folds, making me squirm as heat floods between my legs.
Jackson’s rumbling growl fills the Range Rover. He pushes one finger inside me.
“Jackson,” I gasp. “Not while you’re d-driving.”
He tsks and slides the beautiful, intruding digit in and out, sending spirals of heat and pleasure careening through my body. “Who gives the orders around here, kitten?”
I moan as he works the finger even deeper. I don’t know how he’s managing to drive straight. I’m blind with desire, my world tilting and rocking, sliding to one side then righting itself and sliding to the other. “Y-you do.”
“That’s right, baby.”
I grind my clit against the heel of his hand, taking his finger deeper.
“Who owns your every orgasm?”
I lift my pelvis to meet his thrusts, gritting my teeth. “You do! P-please, Jackson.”
He growls. “Beg for it, kitten.”
I’m not too proud. “Please, please, please, Jackson!”
He leans forward to change the angle and inserts a second finger.
I lift my hips from the seat cushion, swallowing a scream just before I come.
“That’s right baby. Come all over my fingers. You’ll be squeezing my cock when you come again as soon as I get you home. After your whipping.”
My thighs tremble as I fall back, limp and shaky from the release.
Jackson pulls into his driveway—our driveway, as he keeps reminding me. I still can’t believe how fully enmeshed our lives are now. We get out of the vehicle, and I adjust my skirt. Jackson circles around the car and shoves me up against it. He captures my face with one hand and holds it prisoner for a hot, rough kiss.
“I know that pussy is still squeezing for me.” How he knows this, I have no idea, but he’s right. The hand holding my face drops to cup my nape. “So we’re going to go inside and kiss Mémé and eat dinner. But, when I give you the signal, you will scurry upstairs and take off everything but those sexy high heels. And I want you waiting for me with your ass in the air and your face in the blankets. Understand?”
The squeezing between my legs becomes more distracting.
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles and traces the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “Good girl. Let’s go.”
Inside, the house smells of Mémé’s heavenly cooking.
“Ah, you’re home.” Mémé beams. She’s wearing the goofy apron Sam bought her that has the French food pyramid on it—French bread, cheese, and quiche.
Jackson kisses her on the cheek. “What smells so good, Mémé?”
“Steak for the wolves. Salmon for the cats. Rice and salad and fresh bread for all of us.”
Sam comes in the back door carrying a platter piled high with steaks from the grill. “Your meat, mademoiselle.” He gives Mémé a bow and a wink.
She blushes like a schoolgirl. She and Sam get along famously. At first, Sam had suggested he move out, but Mémé and I wouldn’t hear of it, and Jackson backed us up.
“You are my pack,” he insisted. “The three of you. I need you all at my house where I can protect you. And, Sam, I need you around to protect my females when I’m away.”
“Bring it to the living room,” Mémé directs Sam now, and shoos us in after him. I try to sit in my chair, but Jackson pulls me onto his lap, instead. He still hasn’t grown tired of feeding me. Something about a wolf’s privilege.
As I watch my small family gather around the table, my heart swells so large, I’m sure it will burst. As strange and unlikely a pack as we are, with them, I experience a profound sense of belonging. This is the normal I’ve been searching for all these years.
I’m finally with my own kind, loved beyond measure.
Home.
Book 2 in Lee and Renee’s Bad Boy Alpha series is coming soon!
Alpha’s Danger - Prologue
Amber
Note to self: psychics should stay away from crowded airports.
I roll my suitcase up to the sink in the bathroom and gaze at my face in the mirror as I wash my hands. My eyes already have that sunken look, as if they’re receding into my skull to get away from it all. I dry my hands with a paper towel and pat the damp paper against my cheeks. I suppress a groan.
What was I thinking, flying here? Nothing triggers my hallucinations like being around too many people. A guy in a business suit bumped into me and his memory flashed in my head: him in bed with a woman. He’s cheating on his wife.
I don’t know how I know, but I do. And I wish I didn’t.
Maybe I
’ll just hide in the bathroom until they call for my flight. Yeah, that’s a plan. Crazy Amber, hiding in bathrooms because she has visions wherever she goes. I went to law school for this?
My phone beeps. 10:42 a.m.. Fifteen minutes until boarding time, and five hours before my interview. I dig for aspirin, wincing at the rattle of pills in the bottle.
Note to self: buy pain meds in gel caps.
“Excuse me.” A warm voice sounds behind me, and an old woman touches my back as she reaches past me for a paper towel.
I mean to duck away without eye contact, but the woman has me trapped between the sinks and the paper towels, unable to escape. I glance up with my polite smile pasted in place.
The woman has long white hair but a surprisingly youthful face, and wide blue eyes. “How long have you practiced the intuitive arts?”
I look behind myself, even though I knew no one else is there. But the woman couldn’t be talking to me, could she? “Excuse me?”
The woman still touches me, her fingers lightly resting on my sleeve now. “The intuitive arts? How long have you been practicing?”
A chill runs through me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The woman’s face clouds. “Oh.” Her expression clears. “Well, you’re supposed to, honey, and you’re going to keep having headaches until you do.”
My vision blurs with the fast-motion movie reel pictures I’d been trying to suppress. Nausea blasts through me. I see a huge, muscle-bound man standing on a beach, brow wrinkled, fists clenched. Then a wolf in a cage, snarling.
I force the breath out of my lungs and draw in fresh oxygen, shaking my head as if that might clear the stupid visions. When my focus returns to the bathroom, I blink. The woman’s gone.
Grabbing my suitcase handle, I wheel it out of the bathroom, scanning for the white-haired woman when the clock catches my eye. 10:42 a.m.. That has to be wrong.
I check my phone just as the two changes to three. Almost no time passed in the bathroom, but there’s no sign of the woman.