by Renee Rose
Mind out of the gutter, K-K. There’s work to be done.
7
Jackson
I wake up with my fangs dropped and Kylie’s scent in my nostrils. No wonder I dreamed about owning her hot little body the entire two hours I slept. I must have marked her in every position in my sleep. I shouldn’t feel rested, but the sexual frustration pumps me with energy.
Claim. Mate. Mark.
My wolf fucking loves that she’s in my house. I force myself to get in the shower with the spray on ice cold so I won’t go hunt her.
It doesn’t help. I’m still ready to dominate her when I get out. Chase her up a rocky mountain, knock her to the ground, and sink my teeth so deep into her flesh, she’ll scream…
Yeah, and that would kill her. She’d be screaming, all right, and it wouldn’t be yes, Jackson.
I skip the suit and tie today, opting for a button-down and khakis. My employees have been up all night working, I don’t need to show anyone up.
Kylie’s scent hits me hard the moment I walk out of my room. My cock swells against the zipper of my pants. I find her in her room, still working.
She has a pen stuck in a messy bun on top of her head and looks no less beautiful for not having slept all night. If anything, the sight of her up, working hard for me—for the benefit of my company—sends a fresh kick of lust rocketing through me. Of course she’s not doing it for me, she’s doing it for her grandmother, but the wolf doesn’t care about that.
All wolves need to dominate their females, but I never knew how turned on I would be by having one under my paw, so to speak. At the same time, the urge to take care of her rises up strongly. “Good morning. Are you hungry, kitten? I should have told you to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
She flashes an easy smile, the kind that has no intent behind it but could topple nations. “Oh, I would have. I was about to go in search of coffee.”
“Find anything?”
“It’s a complex sequence. There’s something familiar about the style, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’ve been cross-checking old posts on the DefCon board but so far I haven’t figured it out. Your employees have all your data secure now, but I’m guessing the blackmailers had access to at least 250,000 records before you got it quarantined.”
I’ve already heard the same thing from Luis and Stu, but it’s good to know my little genius concurs.
“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast. Your body needs fuel after staying up all night.”
Damn. Why am I talking about her body? It’s a torture enough to me without mentioning it.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” She taps her finger against the edge of her screen as she reads.
Downstairs, I find Sam sitting at the breakfast counter. Apparently, none of us slept much last night.
“What’s going on?” he demands the minute I walk in. I called him when I stayed late last night, and told him what Kylie had done, so my showing up with her in the wee hours of the morning must’ve seemed incongruous.
“The blackmailers kidnapped her grandmother. She turned herself in to me. We’re working on getting a trace on the code to find any clues.”
Sam shakes his head, his mouth screwed into a judgmental ring. “I don’t like it. You’re not acting right, Jackson. She’s a fucking human. Why in the hell did you bring her here?”
A growl erupts from my throat, the wolf in me ready to defend my chosen mate to the death.
Sam’s jaw goes slack as he stares. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What?” I ask tightly.
“You do realize she’s triggered your mating instinct?”
I ignore him and pull out a carton of eggs, then break them into a bowl. “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her leave the mansion under any circumstances.”
Sam doesn’t answer, which forces me to look over. He watches me with narrowed eyes.
“And don’t hurt her.”
“I’m to hold her prisoner here, but I’m not allowed to hurt her.” His tone drips with doubt.
Another growl erupts from my throat, but I manage to cut it off as my wolf senses detect Kylie coming down the stairs. She shouldn’t have been able to hear our conversation, but, when she enters, her expression is sharp.
“So Sam’s my keeper?” she asks brightly.
I purse my lips. Damn. She has superhuman hearing. I need to remember that. “Right. I forbid you to leave the house while I’m gone.”
“You forbid it.” Her tone matches Sam’s perfectly with the doubt-infusion.
I arch a brow. “You have a problem with that?”
“You’re the boss.” She shrugs.
Damn right.
“House arrest with Sam. I can’t think of anything more fun.”
“Watch the sarcasm, kitten,” I say, but my wolf isn’t happy. I can’t fucking stand her using the word with and another male’s name, even if it is by my orders.
She peers into the bowl of eggs. “Whatcha making?”
My innate sense of confidence wanes, the need to please my female, to feed her, swelling in importance. “I was thinking about french toast. Does that sound okay?” Fates, I don’t even recognize myself. When do I ever ask anyone if something is okay?
She flashes that picture-perfect smile, and the wolf relaxes. “Sounds great. Thanks. Is there coffee?” She looks around.
“Help yourself.” Sam points to the full pot.
I’m simultaneously grateful to Sam for making it and pissed that he gets to offer it to her.
She pulls down two mugs and fishes the half and half out of the refrigerator. She hands me a full mug. “Cream, no sugar, right, boss?” Her husky tone, along with her act of service, sends desire kicking through me.
Mate her.
I want her here every morning, making me coffee while I cook her eggs. I want to watch those gold-flecked eyes peeking over the top of her mug as she tells me something brilliant. I want to earn that easy smile by saying something humorous.
Record scratch. I’m not a funny guy. I never say anything humorous. Except I had in the elevator. I’d made her laugh then. Around her, I turn into someone else. Someone better.
You’re not the bad guy.
I dip four pieces of cinnamon raisin bread in the egg batter and drop them onto a heated skillet doused with melted butter.
“I’m going to head into the office after we eat. I want hourly updates. Unless you’re sleeping.” I whirl around to pin her with my sternest look. “You do plan on getting some sleep?”
She lifts her mug of coffee in the air. “Not for a while. Don’t worry. I do my best work when I’m half-delirious.”
“Not on my watch. You need rest.”
She rolls her eyes, and I smack her bottom as she passes by. My cock hardens at her yelp.
Sam stares out the window like he’s never seen such a fascinating view.
“Come on, boss, I need to work. Please.” Her begging melts me. “I prefer catnaps to a solid eight hours anyway. “
I flip the french toast, delirious with the need to know if that’s true. I want to know every single detail about this woman. Need to.
I pull out my cell phone and hand it to her. “Give me your number.” She scrolls to my contacts and adds herself with remarkable speed as I plate the french toast and pull the maple syrup from the refrigerator.
I see she’s entered herself as “Catgirl,” and it makes me smile. “What’s your real name, kitten?”
She tenses, and her hesitation wounds me more than I care to admit.
“Why is it a secret?” I ask softly. “Because of the murder you saw?”
She pales, and I immediately regret pushing her, but, if she’s in danger, I have to know. The need to protect her from any and all her enemies is a tearing, consuming beast in me.
“Yeah.” She picks up a plate of french toast and butters them.
Sam must finally realize he’s a third wheel, because he stand
s from his perch at the breakfast bar. “Holler if you need me. I’ll be around the house, Catgirl.”
“I don’t think he likes me, either,” Kylie says after he leaves. She doesn’t know Sam can still hear every word.
“He’s just protective. What do you mean, either?”
“Like Wolf. Your monster-sized dog.” She forks a piece of french toast, and a low rumble, almost like a purr, rises in my chest. I like feeding her. Too damn much. “Where is he, by the way?”
“He’s probably out. He needs a lot of space to roam.” Not a lie.
“Okay, so I’m your prisoner, and Sam’s my keeper.” She takes another bite, her tongue flicking out to catch a bit of powdered sugar, and I almost groan. “I’m to update you every hour. Any other orders?”
Jesus, I get so hard when she plays submissive with me. And, believe me, I know it’s play—a choice, not her personality. The girl is all alpha if I’ve ever met one. An alpha female who only submits to her male.
A tug of longing pulls at my chest. I finally meet a female who interests me—both sides of me—human and wolf—and she’s human. Fragile. Unable to withstand a marking.
How will I keep her? I have to.
~.~
Kylie
The food and the coffee help. I spend the morning breaking into the FBI’s system to get all their files on known hackers. The malware used to infect SeCure wasn’t the most sophisticated thing I’ve ever seen. Which is good—it enabled Jackson to contain the threat. The downside is I have to look for the suspects in a much larger pool.
Jackson messages me to say that he hasn’t hired a private investigator because he doesn’t trust anyone not to fuck with me, but he’s working on a plan.
By noon, I’m nauseous from lack of sleep, but now I’m so wound up from the coffee and adrenaline, I doubt I’ll be able to rest. I get up to stretch my legs and wander through the upstairs rooms. I haven’t heard Sam—my guess is that his room is somewhere downstairs.
I’m drawn to search Jackson’s room. Hackers are by nature stalkers, and I’m dying to know more about my crush.
I tap lightly at a closed door and push it open. Bingo.
The large master suite must belong to Jackson. I pick up his scent, and it calms my over-wired system immediately. I’ve always had an overdeveloped sense of smell. My dad used to tease me about it.
Like the rest of the house, the room is elegant but simple. There isn’t much to look at, but I wander around, peering on the dresser top at his loose change, checking the wastepaper basket for anything interesting, but there’s nothing.
“What are you doing?”
I gasp and jump, my overtaxed system nearly sending me into cardiac arrest. “Jesus, Sam. You scared me.”
His eyes narrow. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy to tangle with. He may be lean and wiry, but the tattoos decorate hard muscles, and the piercings give him a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. I remember Jackson had to give him the directive, don’t hurt her. Kinda like his wolf-dog, the violence is there, right below the surface.
I go for the truth. “I’m snooping. Trying to understand Jackson better.”
Sam gives a quick shake of his head. “His secrets aren’t for you to unwrap, Catgirl.”
I like that he calls me Catgirl. The name still has a power to it, evokes the invincible teen I once was. Before.
I lean a hip against the dresser, holding my ground. “So there are secrets?”
Sam folds his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe. “Everyone has secrets.”
I try a different tack. “I never wanted to hurt him. I’m here to fix things, not make them worse.”
“Your being here definitely makes things worse.”
Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “What’s your problem with me?”
“Look, I can tell there’s something special about you. Jackson wouldn’t be interested, otherwise. But he can’t be with you—it’s not going to work. And your being in this house is going to be a problem for him.”
I turn his words over in my head, but they don’t make sense. The only thing I can come up with is that he and Jackson are a couple and he’s warning me off.
“Is he gay?”
Sam’s brows twist in puzzlement. “No. What makes you think that?”
“I was just trying to figure out if you and he—”
Sam laughs. “No. I told you, he’s my brother.”
Relief floods me. Down, girl. He’s still not yours. “How did you meet?”
Sam’s face sags and, for a moment, he looks thirty years older, weary from whatever happened in his young life. “I was wandering in the Santa Cruz mountains, lost, and he found me.”
“What were you doing in the mountains?” I picture a lost Boy Scout, but it doesn’t fit.
“I was a runaway. Figured I could survive there on my own. But I was starving. Half-crazy—I’d been alone so long.”
“How long?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A few months, maybe. Jackson saw me, and I ran. He chased me down. I fought him. I didn’t want to return to civilization, but he forced me to come back with him. Promised not to tell anyone he’d found me.”
A rush of sympathy floods my chest. Sam’s been in hiding, like me. Someone out there wants something from him. An abusive family, probably. He’s right. We all have secrets.
“How long ago was that?”
“Seven years. I was fourteen.”
“I’m glad he found you. And I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not worried anymore,” he says. “But, thanks.” A reluctant smile tugs at his lips, and he steps toward me, holding out his fist. I bump it and follow him out of the room, glad to have unearthed another small piece of the Jackson puzzle.
~.~
Jackson
When I get home, I find Kylie crashed out on the sofa, her open laptop tilted against her chest.
Sam’s in the kitchen, eating a stack of ten hamburgers. I pick one up and take a bite. “How long has she been like that?”
“Couple hours,” Sam says with his mouth full. “I found her snooping in your bedroom. She said she wanted to know your secrets.”
A niggling sense of worry tickles me. What if I’m still being played by this girl? But that didn’t make sense—what more could she want or need? She’d already done enough damage to bring me down.
No, hackers have boundary issues. They get an inflated sense of power. They can spy on anyone and anything. Read emails, cancel credit cards. Check high school grades. Kylie’s snooping around my room was an extension of that. She hasn’t been able to hack me personally because there’s nothing to find. She’s not the only one who knows how to create or erase an identity.
“What’s your plan with her? You can’t keep her here forever.”
I stab my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“You can’t. Keep her here,” Sam repeats.
“Why the fuck not?” I snap, even though I know he’s right.
He raises his brows. “You planning to mate her?”
I scowl. We both know that’s not possible. A werewolf bite to a human could kill her. Would cause serious scarring and damage, at the least. And that’s assuming Kylie’s willing. Which would mean telling her—a clear violation of pack rules. And if I tell her and we don’t mate, she’ll have to be eliminated. Pack rules. Or have her mind erased by a vampire. I can’t risk either of those things happening to her.
So, yeah. Sam’s right. I can’t keep her here.
But I sure as fuck can’t let her go, either.
“Just until this blows over,” I promise.
Sam’s pursed lips tell me he knows it’s a lie. “You know what happens to a wolf who ignores his mating instinct?”
Nausea twists in the pit of my stomach. Moon sickness. “That’s not what’s happening here. She can’t be my fated mate—she’s human.”
Sam shrugs. “I realize that, but you’re acting like
a male ready to mark. And the moon is full tomorrow.”
“I have the situation under control.” And pigs fly.
Sam polishes off his fifth hamburger and shoves the plate of remaining burgers my way. “I’ll see you. I’m working at the club tonight.” He sometimes works as a bouncer at Eclipse, Garrett’s nightclub.
Don’t rush home.
My wolf wants Kylie alone. Which is probably the worst idea ever.
~.~
Kylie
I wake to the sound of Sam’s motorcycle pulling away and Jackson’s angry voice from the kitchen. “Who leaked it to the press? I will have their ass. Well, find out and terminate them before I get my hands on them. Understand? Good.”
Damn. Jackson’s shit storm just got worse if one of his employees leaked the situation to the press. I wonder if that means I’ve been named as the perpetrator? How long before the FBI is involved? I climb off the couch. The windows are dark, which means I must’ve slept all afternoon. I check the time on my laptop. Seven p.m.
Jackson’s starts up again—he must be making phone calls. “Get me Sarah, in PR.”
I jog upstairs, determined to take a shower and make myself presentable before he sees me. I fail miserably, because he walks out to the living room and watches me ascend the stairs while he yells at his public relations director.
I wince and give him a wave of surrender, mouthing the word shower.
He nods and continues with his tirade.
When the FBI gets involved, will he turn me in? I slip into his guest bathroom and the memory of what we did in there two nights ago comes rushing back.
I strip and climb into the shower, letting my fingers slide between my legs like last time.
I have another punishment coming.
I’m suddenly desperate for it. My time here may be limited. If the FBI is looking for me, I may have to leave in a hurry. And my business with Jackson feels unfinished.
