by Renee Rose
She arches a brow. “Is that what you go by?”
“No.”
She sets her coffee mug down and stands. The skirt hugs her tight body, her heels making the muscles of her calves stand out in stark relief. A faded Spiderman T-shirt stretches across her chest. This girl has a superhero fetish.
Too bad I’m the villain. I want to yank the T-shirt up and drag my tongue up that flat belly to the perky tits.
“Listen, I want to apologize again for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just...jealous.” She sounds sincere.
I didn’t expect another apology. The set of her shoulders says she’s on the defensive, but the softness in her face and voice tells me she’s actually trying to make nice. Which is...refreshing. My employees, business colleagues, hell, everyone in my life either sucks up to me, or talks shit about me behind my back. Or both. Only other shifters are real, but the Arizona packs don’t love me. Which is my own fault.
“Jealous of what?”
She shrugs. “Your brains, I guess.”
Another surprise. Most people are jealous of my success, my money, my power. They seem to think I haven’t earned them. I got lucky. “If you got inside my head, you wouldn’t find much worth keeping,” I say. Just a lifetime’s worth of guilt. Any therapist would point out my obsessive career drive as compensatory. And if the psychotherapist knew what I’d done to deserve my self-loathing, they’d lock me up. But my mistake can’t be undone. My mom can’t be brought back from the dead, and my stepfather’s death still came too late.
Kylie studies me.
What does she see? A giant, awkward geek? A creepy guy? Or does she see the wolf in my eyes, the predator that wants to put her on her hands and knees and fuck her senseless?
“You like my code.” My voice is hoarse, guttural, this close to the change.
“I do.” She gives a slow, sensuous smile, as if talking code is foreplay. Her teeth are perfect and white, lips plump and glossed. “Your eyes are lighter than I remembered.”
Fuck.
I blink rapidly, forcing back the change. “They change.” Not a lie. “I’ve been working on a new language.” Jesus, this really was geek-talk. Next thing I’ll be telling her a “once, at band camp…” story.
Her eyes light up, and she moves forward, invading my space. She’s toned and leggy, but her tits and ass would make the perfect handful.
“I’d like you to test it for me.”
Oh fates—what in the hell am I doing? I never let anyone see my work, especially not a brand-new employee whom I know nothing about.
She leans closer. “I’d love to.”
Are her nipples hard?
“It would have to be after hours, on the side. I know Stu has other work for you.”
“Sure, great.” She isn’t daunted by overtime, apparently. Definitely a legit geek.
“My office, six p.m.” Sounds like a date. It must have sounded that way to her, too, because the scent of female arousal reaches my nose.
I ball my fists, pressing my blunt fingernails into my palms to keep from snatching her body up against my own. I imagine her naked, sprawled out on my desk with her legs open wide.
No. No, no, no. It can’t happen. Some wolves are able to have sex with humans, no problem, but they wouldn’t have the urge to mate with one. A human wouldn’t—shouldn’t—inspire the urge to permanently mark her with my scent. But it seems this one does. And that makes fucking her an impossibility. Because I can’t mark her without serious injury or death.
Her berry lips part, as if waiting for a kiss.
I step forward.
“Am I forgiven?” Her whiskey voice goes straight to my cock.
I pin her with a cool glance. “We’ll see.”
The scent of her nectar grows stronger. She likes my authority.
I leave before I shove her skirt up, rip off her panties, and bury my tongue in her.
Not going to happen. Can’t. Happen.
I walk away, body tense. My wolf wants to be unleashed.
Maybe I need to get outside. I use my cell to call my secretary. “Vanessa, cancel my appointment. I’m going out.”
~.~
Kylie
Holy sexballs, Batman. Jackson King has a thing for me. Why else would he show up, all growly and intense, and invite me to his office?
He wants to show me his code. Is that what the kids call it these days?
Maybe he’s just being nice, making up for his first impression. Maybe he wants to put me, a new employee, at ease on my first day. Throw me a bone. The big one in his pants. Heh.
But no. I’m not that girl. I’ve never even been with a guy. I didn’t read Career Advice for Dummies, but I’m pretty sure sleeping with my boss is not a good idea.
Even if it’s Jackson King…
After a few minutes of daydreaming, I shake myself.
No, K-K, I scold my libido. Don’t mess this up. I’ve just landed my dream job. No more life of crime, or being on the run. No more hiding, the only excitement in my life discovering what Mémé made for lunch.
And Jackson King is probably a player. Maybe that’s why there’s no news about a girlfriend. He probably sleeps with his employees and pays them for their silence. Jerkwad.
If only he didn’t have such pretty eyes. I thought they were green. Today, they were light blue.
I tap my keyboard, acting busy in case Stu interrupts me. Even though we can email or chat via the intranet, he drops into my office, often. I still haven’t figured out why he was so gung ho to hire me. Glowing recommendations from college professors don’t seem like enough.
I pull up Google to do a search on Stu, to see if I can learn more, and end up typing in Jackson King’s name instead. There he is, unsmiling as always, in a photo shoot for Wired magazine. He stares through the camera, his thick hair mussed and jaw clenched. His typical leave me alone or else look.
It only makes me want to get closer.
Only a few more hours before I can go see his code. And I actually do want to sit and program with him, even if it means unpaid overtime. Maybe diving into a project will end the awkwardness between us. I’m standoffish and snarky in real life, but online, I’m Catgirl. Leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Solving the world’s problems, one hack at a time. When my dad was alive, we moved so much between his heists—unable to stay in one place. The computer was my home. I didn’t meet my friends at the mall. I met them online. And coding—the numbers just made sense. A challenge and a comfort at the same time. Something about hiding in plain sight.
For some reason, I think Jackson King would understand.
At six p.m., I leap out of my chair. My heart pitter-patters at a jaunty tempo as I take the stairs to the eighth floor—the executive level.
When I break out of the stairwell—which brings back bad memories, but not as bad as an elevator—I walk briskly. Act like you belong, and people will assume you do. My father gave better advice on blending in than any business book. As a thief, he would know.
I do belong here, I tell myself, as I head to the corner office. For the first time in my life, I belong.
King’s executive assistant is packing up, pulling on a light jacket and slinging her purse over one shoulder. She’s cute. And her blouse is unbuttoned way too low.
Holy cleavage, Robin.
I try to walk past her.
“Excuse me? May I help you?”
I whirl with a bright smile. “Sure. I’m here to see Mr. King.”
The assistant shakes her head, bouncing her perfect blonde curls. “No. He doesn’t have any appointments.”
“Yes, he does. He asked me to look at some code.” I extend my hand, doing my best to look friendly, despite the frosty reception. “I’m Kylie McDaniel, the new infosec specialist.”
The young woman shakes her head again and ignores my hand. “Nope. It’s not on his schedule. And Mr. King really doesn’t like to be bothered. I can try to make you an appointment?” Her voi
ce drips with doubt.
The door behind her pushes open. “Ms. McDaniel.”
I shouldn’t have done it. I could’ve just waited until the woman walked away, and gone in anyway. But something in me itches for a fight.
Eyes glued to the assistant’s face, I answer, “J. T.”
The assistant’s eyes widen right before her face pinches up tight.
Fortunately, my over-familiarity doesn’t seem to piss off Jackson. He doesn’t explain himself to his secretary, but then he doesn’t have to—it’s his company. He steps back and gestures impatiently toward his office.
Only on him would authority look so hot.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell the assistant as I swagger on by.
She ignores me. “Do you need me to stay, sir?”
No thanks, I’m not into threesomes.
“No.”
So he gives others the monosyllabic answers, too. Good to know.
“Okay, good night?” the secretary says, a hint of desperation in her voice.
Without a word, he shuts the door. It shouldn’t satisfy me, but it does. And now I’m alone with Jackson King.
“You’re late,” King growls.
He’s taken off his suit jacket and tie. His collar stands open. His broad shoulders fill the dress shirt.
“Am I in trouble?”
He doesn’t answer, only rolls up his sleeves.
Holy hotness, Batman.
“If you miss me, I’m only two floors down.”
King grunts in answer and stalks behind a large, solid oak desk with a leather captain’s chair. A retreat, but he’s back in a seat of power. Two smaller chairs sit in front of the desk. I drop my bag in one but don’t sit down. I’m not a naughty student visiting the principal’s office.
Now, that’s a fantasy.
King’s office is impressive. Two entire walls of floor-to-ceiling windows showcase a breathtaking view of the Catalina foothills, which glow pink and purple in the setting sun.
“Your secretary sure is protective of you. Are you fucking her?” Oops, maybe a little too blunt. But if he’s a man-ho, leching on all his employees, I want to know.
“Excuse me?” That stern voice warns me to settle down. Too bad it only makes me more excited.
I shrug. “She seems jealous.”
“So you conclude I’ve taken her to bed?”
My face floods with heat. Once again, the first words out of my mouth are totally inappropriate. What is it about him that brings out inner thoughts? Around him, I can’t hide.
He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t think she’s the one who’s jealous. What did you think we were going to be doing up here, Kylie?”
I shiver when he says my name.
“Did you think we’re going to sleep together?”
“No.” My lie isn’t very convincing. I should know. I was trained to lie. “Not at all.”
His gaze drops to my breasts, and he raises his eyebrows, as if making a point. His eyes are light-blue again—almost silver. Mémé’s change like that. Sometimes they look chocolate-brown, like mine, other times they are golden.
I look down. My freakin’ nipples are standing out so far they show through my bra and T-shirt.
Damn.
I cross my arms over my chest to hide them. “Look, we’re both adults. You invited me up here. Show me what you’re going to show me, and I’ll tell you what I think.”
“You think you’re ready?”
I saunter to his desk and plant my hands on it, leaning in. “King, I’ve been ready for you my entire life.”
For a moment, King regards me. He pivots, squaring off to face me. He seems bigger, bulkier. His eyes burn into mine, ice blue with a black band around them.
A musky scent washes over me, spicy and masculine. My pulse picks up as I hear a low rumbling sound. It’s coming from King.
I straighten. “You okay? You seem—”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“What?” I choke out, like he’s punched me in the gut.
He closes his eyes, opens them, getting himself under control with visible effort. Whether it’s temper or attraction, I can’t be sure. I feel numb as he walks back to the door, presumably to see me out.
“Look, I’m sorry.” I touch his arm. Electricity surges through my fingertips. King sucks in a breath. “I’ll behave. I really want to see your code.”
He steps back out of reach. “No. This was a mistake.”
“Give me another chance,” I plead. “I can act professionally, I swear.”
He turns and hits me with the full force of his gaze. His eyes drift over my mouth, my breasts, down the length of my bare legs. Tingles spread through me. “Maybe. But I can’t.”
I shiver again. My senses go on alert, danger twining with excitement. There’s a predator in the room, and he’s got his sights set on me.
“You need to leave, Kylie.”
Ouch. Not even his sexy voice can soften the rejection. I back toward the door, swallowing. The air in the office is electric, making the hairs on my nape stand up.
Something has happened between us. Something I don’t quite understand.
“I’m sorry.” I search for more to say. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m not someone you should be alone with.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“This isn’t a good idea.” Head bowed, massive body outlined in red from the setting sun, Jackson King looks like a hero in a comic book, a being from another world.
“King,” I say, and take a step forward.
His head snaps up, and he pins me with those blazing blues. “Get out.”
My back hits the door, and I twist the knob, unwilling to look away from the big bad King. Muscles tight and eyes wary, he looks every bit as dangerous as he does sexy. But I’m not afraid. I want to seduce him.
I’m crazy. I don’t know anything about seduction. These feelings are crazy. I try again, one last time. “I still want to test your code. You could email me. Or something.”
“No,” he says. “I can’t.” His lips twist into a miserable smile. “Leave. Now.” His voice softens. “While you still have a chance.”
What does he mean? I don’t stay to find out. I close the door too hard, and it slams.
“And stay out,” I mutter, my cheeks burning.
At least his secretary’s not here to witness my humiliation.
As I walk away, a tortured sound rips from King’s office. An inhuman sound. Almost like a howl.
~.~
Jackson
I pull my clothes off in the parking lot and throw them in my trunk. It’s reckless. There are still cars in the lot, and it’s not even dark yet, but I have to run. The moon is waxing, which makes my wolf’ antsier than usual. That’s the problem. Not that smart-mouthed, intoxicating little human who calls everything the way she sees it.
My chests shakes with a growl when I think about the danger Kylie is in. My wolf wants to protect her from all threats. But, of course, the only threat to her is me.
Garrett warned me this could happen. The Tucson alpha runs a tight pack. His wolves are all healthy, well-adjusted. He and I have a tenuous relationship—I am a lone wolf on the edge of his territory. Garrett keeps reaching out. Not just to assert his leadership—although he wouldn’t be much of an alpha if he didn’t try—but to save me from moon sickness. Wolves, especially big, dominant wolves, can go mad if they wait too long to take a mate. If I ever display the signs, Garrett has made it clear he’ll take me down. I told him to bring his best fighters to be sure he could finish the job.
I can’t be bothered with a mate. Hell, I don’t even want a pack, not after my birth pack banished me. I am a lone wolf, or I would be, if I hadn’t taken in Sam. But that was different. Sam needs me, and my wolf likes the kid.
My wolf more than likes Kylie. It wants me to claim her, but claiming a human is dangerous. I know the consequences of letting my bestial nature run
free. People get hurt.
I can’t let that happen to Kylie.
I close my eyes and let the heat consume me. The cells tear apart. Rearrange. It’s painless but requires concentration and takes energy. Dropping to all fours, I run behind the cars, out of the solar panel-covered lot, to the rocky dirt of the desert. I lope straight up the side of the mountain, racing to get behind the crest for cover.
Nose lowered to follow a rabbit trail, I let my wolf rule. No more being a CEO. No more company, or code. No more Kylie with scent, intoxicating and forbidden. The confused hurt on her face when I told her to get out...
For a long time, I run the mountain, dodging in and out of trees and scrub, stretching my muscles. The sun ducks under the horizon, and the moon rises, shimmery and plump, lighting the slope of the mountain.
I catch a familiar wolf’s scent a moment before I see a flash of black and a pair of amber eyes. I tense my hind legs and leap to tackle the other wolf, knocking the young male onto his side and nipping his ear.
Sam is scrawny for a shifter—still large by wolf standards. My young pack brother yips and nips back until I growl and show my teeth. Sam tucks his tail and whines, offering his belly and throat.
I lick his ear and let the kid spring to his feet. Dominance and submission games are just that between us—play. It’s the closest thing to fun I allow myself. If not for the kid—our pack of two—I wouldn’t interact with anyone on a personal level—neither human nor shifter. But Sam refuses to leave. He remembers what it’s like to be alone.
I lift my muzzle and trot off, knowing Sam will follow. Tonight, we’ll run and hunt just like we did in the mountains of California, where I found Sam starving and half-mad, his human side almost lost. He seems to know what I cannot explain. Tonight, I’m the one who needs rescuing.
3
Kylie
It’s been three days, and I haven’t once seen Jackson King. Not since he threw me out of his office. Three days of reliving our conversation over and over. I tell myself to get over it, but I’ve been obsessing over King for years, and this crush has bloomed since the encounter in the elevator.