When Tucson courted SeCure to move our headquarters to the city, I played hardball, pressing for tax advantages and new roads to the proposed location. But, in truth, it was a no-brainer. Tucson is perfect for a shifter-nestled between three mountain ranges, with a population of only a million, it gives me quick access to wilderness while retaining all the advantages for business. Attracting high-caliber employees wasn't hard-most professionals were delighted to relocate to the desert, even with the hot summers.
I built the headquarters at the base of the mountains. My own mansion also nestles into the front range of the Catalinas so I can run and hunt at any time.
I pace in front of the windows, skin tingling. I'm actually considering shifting in broad daylight. My wolf wants out. He wants to hunt, to kill. Or fuck.
Mine.
Yeah, my wolf wants to fuck that hot little human on the sixth floor. If I were smart, I'd stay way the hell away from her. But I wasn't thinking with my brain when I recommended hiring her in the first place.
I can't get Kylie out of my head. Over the past two weeks, her scent comes to me at night. I see her in my dreams. The memory of her long legs and bat tits gets me hard every time.
How can a human be so attractive?
A tap on my door. "Mr. King? Your nine a. m. is here."
With a sigh, I sit at my desk. "Send him in." More business shit to deal with. Kylie will have to wait.
~.~
Jackson
I force myself to wait until eleven a. m. By then, my entire body twitches from the effort of resisting instinct. Shooting to my feet, I stride out of my office, past my secretary's desk.
She looks, surprised. "Your eleven a. m. is waiting, sir." She'd already told me once, and I'd asked for a minute.
"Yeah, I know. I'll be back in five." Or ten. Or however long it takes me to throw my little Batgirl up against the wall and fuck her senseless.
I shove my wolf back down. This is a bad idea. She's human. Beautiful. Fragile. Breakable. At best, I'd bruise her. At worst... I'd break her.
But I have to see her.
I take the elevator to the sixth floor-the memory of touching her making my cock even harder. Thank fate we were stuck together. Thank fate I didn't realize how her scent called to me until after we were out of the enclosed space. Only years of control kept my wolf from taking over and claiming her right there. Control and being so fucking confused.
I've never felt this way before. I shouldn't feel this way. Especially not about a human.
I prowl down the hall, ignoring the way all the employees' conversations die when they see me. Most days, I welcome their nervousness. It satisfies the predator part of me. Today, I have different prey.
I don't need to ask where my little hacker is stationed. Her scent leaves a trail. Vanilla and spice, and a flavor I don't recognize.
My hunt ends at a tiny windowless office. Kylie sits studying her computer screen with a coffee mug at her lips.
Although I don't make any noise-shifters tread far more quietly than humans-she snaps her head in my direction before I step through the doorway, blinking as if she doesn't quite believe I'm real.
"Mr. King." She swivels in her chair but doesn't stand. My wolf likes that she's lost her fear of me. She crosses her long bare legs, and I thank the fates she's wearing another short skirt. "Or should I call you J. T.?"
So she's still annoyed at my little deception. Her voice holds a note of scorn no other employee would use, and damn, but it makes my cock twitch.
The sight of her thrills me, but I allow myself only a small grin. "You may."
Her gaze flicks to the doorway behind me, and only because I'm part wolf do I recognize a slight trapped animal vibe under the confidence. Like it makes her itchy to have the only exit blocked. Must be part of her claustrophobia. I step into the office and away from the door to give her an unfettered exit, and she relaxes.
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. My wolf wants me to puff out my muscles, and run out to hunt and bring her back a rabbit for lunch. Down, boy.
Her scent hits me hard, bringing on the prickle of the shift. I will it back, hoping my eyes haven't changed color.
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.