The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

For a second, I catch my breath, thinking I’ve found my nemesis at last-Catgirl, the hacker who broke my code years ago.

But no. It’s Batgirl, with a B. And it’s on our intranet, the private network my employees use. Except I only allow connections with my executive team. Which means I’ve been hacked.

King1: Who’s this? I type, although I can guess.

Batgirl4u: Who do you think?

I shake my head. King1: Cute trick, kitten. But if you have time to hack our intranet, I need to get Stu to give you more to do.

Batgirl4u: Just proving my worth. You could send me that code you wanted to show me

The cursor blinks at me.

This isn’t a good idea. I want to watch over her, but I can’t. Today, I had a weak moment. I have too many of those around her. Like it or not, I am dangerous. Deadly. She thinks I’m not a villain.

She’s wrong.

I power off my computer. Time for another run.

~.~

Kylie

After an hour waiting for King’s reply, I power off my laptop and head home. I shouldn’t have taunted him like that. I was showing off, and, if I’m not careful, he might connect the dots some day and figure out I’m Catgirl.

Infuriating man. One day I think he’s going to bend me over his desk and fuck me senseless, the next he’s throwing me out of his office. Then he’s back to flirting. And then he ignores me online. I can’t keep up.

“Holy mixed messages, Batman,” I mutter as I close my front door and pull off my heels. One thing’s for sure, I’m not wearing these shoes for him again.

“Meme? You home?”

A note on the table in my grandmother’s loopy scrawl tells me she’s run to the store, so I pick up the mail, pulling out the large manila envelope with no return address. I pry the flap with my thumb and rip it open.

A thick packet of papers emerged, with a typewritten cover letter.

Oh fuck.

My heart stops beating.

We know who you are, Catgirl, and have the proof to put you away.

To ensure our silence, you have twenty-four hours to install the code on this thumb drive into the main drive of SeCure.

If you do not comply, if you corrupt the files on the thumb drive in any way, or if you speak of this to anyone, we will send this packet to your new employer and the FBI.

No.

I struggle to breathe as I flip through the rest of the pages of the packet. They include all the evidence from my break into SeCure years ago, as well as IDs and photos of me and my parents under various aliases.

None with my real name.

Hell, even I’ve forgotten that.

My head throbs, and the room spins away. Someone found me. Maybe not him, but this is a huge threat.

First things first. Is there anything in this packet that can put me in jail?

I flip through the pages again.

No. But it will raise flags. SeCure will fire me, for sure. I’ll lose the chance to work with Jackson King, not that it looks like we’d be working closely, but still. Goodbye to my chance at being normal.

But I can’t do it and stay. If I give in to these guys, I’ll be their bitch forever. Next, they’ll ask me to hack into the credit card vault. Then somewhere else. I can’t do that. I have to disappear. Like I’ve done a million times before.

I stomp to the bedroom, grab a suitcase from the closet, and fling it onto the bed. Without thought, my hands move, packing the necessities. Black clothes, one pair of each thing. A simple bag of toiletries.

Running again. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to outrun Catgirl and my parents’ legacy, the past always catches up with me.

But what about Meme? We’ve moved so many times, I don’t want to drag her on the road again. This time, our lives aren’t in danger. It’s not fair to make her pick up and move. Can I leave her?

She’s the only family I have. Ditching her to keep her safe feels like what my father did to me, when he tried to stick me in boarding school after my mom died. I wouldn’t let him, and I’ll bet Meme won’t like being left behind, either.

Okay, so we’d both move. Meme can make soup anywhere.

We have to run. We have to hide. What other choice do we have?

So much for my chance at normal.

I wrench open my drawer. The Batgirl shirt stares up at me.

“I can’t,” I say. “I’m not a superhero.”

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 Meme 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.

~.~

JacksonText © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

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.”