I'm definitely the bad guy, Jackson told me. If only he knew. I'm his arch-nemesis, as bad as they come. I thought I was clear of my old life. I thought wrong.
In the past, I'd hack my way out of any problem-mine or my dad's. We were in it together. Always on the run, but together. I'd felt safe. Powerful, even. But the Louvre shattered that. Stabbed in front of my eyes, my father gone forever. I almost died in that air-conditioning shaft, suffocating on my own panic. I've never felt safe in a tight space again.
Except in the elevator, with King.
I remember the pressure of his arms around me, the triggering of the calming reflex. I'd looked it up when I got home. All I found was reference to yoga postures that involve locking the chin into the sternum for calming.
Jackson's big hands had been so much better than a yoga pose. They'd radiated warmth and safety.
If anyone harasses you, I want to know about it.
It's not real. It's not safe. I can't trust him.
But what if I can?
I shove the papers back in the envelope, write a quick note for Mémé and run to my room for a new outfit before I can change my mind.
I've built my life on lies.
Maybe it's time to try the truth.
~.~
Jackson
The moon shines silver, lighting the mountainside. I usually run and hunt most of the night when the moon is so close to full, but my instincts screamed to go back early. It wasn't because of the rain, either.
Sam chases me, nipping at my hind legs, but I turn and snarl at the young wolf, causing him to tuck his tail and whine. I don't want Sam's company-I never do, but the kid is my self-appointed permanent shadow. When we reach the back side of my property, we both freeze. The rain makes it impossible to scent anything, but the high-pitched tone set at a frequency only canines register tells us my alarm system has been tripped.
Sam snarls, his upper lip lifting to show fang. He charges forward, rounding the corner.
I fly inside, through the dog door in the back, to check the interior. I scent nothing unusual. I shift and yank on clothes as I jog to the control room to look at the security feed.
A lone bike stands propped outside the iron gates that surround the front of my property and a small dark figure trudges through the rain toward my front door. A growl reverberates, low in my throat.
Who in the hell?
Sam arrives at full speed, fangs gleaming, and leaps through the air, his front paws landing on the intruder's shoulders and knocking him or her to the ground.
Take that, motherfucker.
Dark fury pumping through my veins, I leave the control room to confront the unwelcome guest. I jog down the slippery steps and across the rain-soaked gravel.
"Easy Cujo." The shaky sound of her voice shocks me like a live wire.
Kylie.
A jolt of fear tremors through my body. "Off. Get back," I snap.
Sam doesn't move, his wolf side not giving way to human reason, his instinct to protect and defend his home turf too strong. Thank the fates, Sam hasn't torn her flesh.
My little hacker's smart-she's gone perfectly still beneath Sam.
I grab the scruff of my pack brother's neck and haul him back. "I said off."
Sam gives his head a shake and tucks his tail at the sound of his alpha's angry tone. He takes a few steps backward.
I gaze down at our intruder. Even soaking wet, in a sweatshirt and jeans, she's beautiful. She lies in the mud, not looking nearly as afraid as she ought to.
"What in the hell are you doing here?"
She groans and starts to move, but winces, reaching for the back of her head.
Well, hell. A good-sized rock lay near her. She must've struck it when Sam knocked her down.
"I had to talk to you," she croaked.
Anyone else, I'd grill right there, while they lie on their back in the dirt at my feet. But not Kylie. That new, strange prickly heat takes over and screams at me to protect her-from Sam, from the rain, from the rock, from myself.
I pluck her from the ground and set her on her feet, forgetting to pretend she's heavy.
Her eyes roll, unfocused, as if the movement pains her head. "Ugh. Wow."
I reach around and cup the back of her head, fingers questing until I find the growing goose egg.
She flinches when I touch it.
"You're hurt." I turn and glare at Sam, who ducks his head.
She eyes my housemate, too. "Good thing you were around, or I think Cujo would've eaten me. Is that even a dog?"
"He's part wolf."
"Part wolf, part what? Gargoyle?"
I suppress a smile. I love that she pulls out the wry wit despite her injury. But then, it's her default defense mechanism, as I learned in the elevator.
I study her. I ought to call the cops, or somehow scare her into respecting my boundaries. "Are you going to tell me why in the hell you broke into my place?"
She rolls her eyes. "Please, if I was breaking into your place, I wouldn't trip the laser sights to announce my presence. Forgive me, but I didn't see the doorbell out there."
What woman knows about laser security systems? And doesn't scream when a giant wolf pins her to the ground?
"I don't recall inviting you. How the hell did you even find me?"
"I'm a hacker, remember?"
"Or a stalker."
"Same thing." Her hand goes to the front of her sweatshirt, and I hear the crinkle of paper. "I have something to show you. It couldn't wait until tomorrow."
I take her elbow and lead her up the slick Italian tile steps and inside the mansion. Kylie moves stiffly, as if more than just her head hurts from Sam's attack. It doesn't stop her from looking around my place as I escort her to the guest bathroom on the second floor. Somehow, I doubt she's missed a thing, either. Why is she here, really?