The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Jacqueline

Jacqueline rolls over in the dirt and groans. She’s too old for this crap. If her granddaughter wasn’t in terrible danger, she would let herself die out here in the desert.

It would be so easy. She suffered so many bullet wounds. Four, at least. Not even a shifter should be able to survive a bullet to the head.

But she’s still breathing, so that must mean she survived.

How long has she been out here?

An entire night and day, at least. Could be more; she was in and out of consciousness.

But the cat in her rallied, pushing the bullets out of her flesh, closing the wounds. There’s one still stuck in her head, though. And she’s lost a lot of blood. She just wants to sleep.

But Minette. Her petite fille is in danger. The men who kidnapped her have plans for Minette. She has to get help. If only she could shift.

Usually, if a shifter is badly wounded while in human form, their body will naturally shift to beast for protection and healing. Why she is still in her weak, human form, she doesn’t know. It must have something to do with the head wound.

She needs to get to other shifters.

They’ve only been in Tucson a week, but she paid a visit to the wolf alpha, Garrett, to introduce herself a few days ago. She needs to get to him. He’ll be able to help.

She forces herself to her hands and knees and then to her feet. Her clothes are stiff, covered in blood and dirt. She can’t scent her way to civilization because nothing but the smell of blood fills her nostrils.

Maybe it would be best to wait until morning, when she can judge the direction of the sun. But she doesn’t want to spend another night out in the cold. Not in human form.

Shift, dammit, shift.

Why can’t she shift?

~.~

Jackson

I am the biggest ass. I pace in my bedroom, listening for every creak or movement from Kylie’s room.

I feel horrible about taking Kylie’s virginity without asking. Without even using protection. Even worse, if things had continued, I would have marked her. I was already half beast. No thoughts were moving through my brain, other than to take her. Claim her.

Mark her as my mate.

Yes, if I hadn’t hit her virginal resistance, I might have sunk my coated teeth right into her shoulder, tearing her delicate human flesh, possibly even killing her.

But the fact I wounded her pride-insulted her by stopping-made the situation insufferable. How did I not realize she was so inexperienced? In retrospect, it should have been obvious by her blushes, yet she carries herself with such confidence, sexual and otherwise, I never guessed.

The wolf in me preens over being her first, which disgusts me even more. I didn’t even make it good for her. It was a negative five on a scale of one to ten.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

And yet, I can’t figure out how to make it better. I can’t finish what I started. If I learned anything tonight, it’s that I can’t trust myself. Especially with the moon full.

Kylie’s emotions aren’t my only problem tonight, either. Someone leaked the story to the press, naming Kylie as the culprit. I will have feds at the office tomorrow, wanting to investigate her, and I sure as hell can’t let them find her.

I log onto my computer to check how the story is coming out in the press.

Art Thief Vigilante’s Daughter Hacks SeCure Corporation.

Art thief? I pull up the story to read about Kylie.

“Daughter of Robin Hood-style art thief Jacob Anders, Kaye Anders, also known as Kylie McDaniel, may be responsible for hacking into SeCure Corporation and stealing hundreds of thousands of credit card numbers. McDaniel was hired by the company just days before she hacked the system and installed malware.

“Sarah Smith, Public Relations Director from SeCure corporation says owners of the accounts breached will be notified as soon as possible, and they are recommending the cancellation of all credit cards affected by the breach.

“Smith says it is unknown whether McDaniel staged the breach as another vigilante-style heist, following in the footsteps of her father. Jacob Anders was best known for reclaiming art and other antiquities stolen by the Nazis during World War II and returning the treasures to their rightful owners or to museums. His body was discovered in The Louvre in 2009 with multiple stab wounds that law enforcement officials believe to have been inflicted by a partner during a heist. The Degas painting ‘Elegant Dancer,’ a painting reportedly confiscated from convicted Nazi war criminal Hedwig Model and donated to the Louvre, was discovered missing from the art museum at the time.

“McDaniel, whose other aliases include the hacker moniker Catgirl, has been wanted for questioning since the 2009 murder but has not surfaced again until now.

“FBI officials were not available for comment, but the spokesperson from SeCure Corporation says they will work hand in hand with law enforcement to aid in McDaniel’s arrest and will press charges to the full extent of the law.”

Kylie, an art thief, in addition to the most talented hacker in the world. My beautiful, talented little cat burglar. But Jesus, she watched her father murdered before her eyes. No wonder she has PTSD. I’ve got to protect her.

A growl rumbles in my chest, my wolf ready to go on the hunt. No one is going to touch my kitten. I don’t know how to fix this, but I sure as hell am not going to let Kylie-or whatever her real name is-take the fall.

I hired a hacker and thief into my company. The PR is going to be hell.

A whimper sounds from her room, and I surge to my feet, flying out the door to stand outside hers.

Another whimper.

I gently push open the door. My little hacker’s asleep on her side, one arm tossed over her head, which she rolls back and forth fitfully.

Bad dream.

I ease onto the bed behind her, curling my much larger body around hers. “Shh, baby. It’s just a dream.”

She whimpers louder. “Can’t get out can’t get out can’t get out.” Her breath drags in and out, too fast, the way it did in the elevator.

I rest my hand on her ribs and give her a gentle shake. “Kylie. Kitten. Wake up, baby.”

She startles awake with a scream.

I start to cover her mouth but realize it will only make the claustrophobia worse, so I go for her sternum again. “Breathe, baby. In. Out. You’re safe. It was a dream. Just a dream, kitten.”

She lets out a tremulous whimper, and I roll her to her back to see her face in the dark.

Her arms loop around my neck, and she clings to me, trembling.

I rub her back. “Shh, baby. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

As quickly as she turned to me, she pulls away, scrambling off the bed and onto her feet.

I follow her up. “Kylie.”

She ignores me and paces back and forth, her shoulders hunched, her head bent like she’s thinking hard.

She’s rejecting my help. Fighting her problems on her own-as she has since she was just a teen. Maybe all her life. I want her to come back to me. Desperately. But I don’t know how to get through.

“You saw your dad’s murder.”

She stops pacing, and her breath leaves her with a whoosh.

“In the Louvre? Where were you? In an air duct?”

Her knees buckle, and I catch her as she stumbles back. I pull her up into my arms, but she fights me. The scent of her tears hits me, salty and filled with pain. I don’t let her go.

She needs me, even if she doesn’t want to accept my help.

“Stop fighting me,” I murmur as she shoves at my chest. “I’m on your side, baby. Stop fighting.”

She collapses against me, tucking her face against my neck, wetting my skin with her tears.

“Damn you, Jackson. Damn you,” she sobs.

“Why, baby?” I stroke her head. “I know I’m an asshole, but why are you mad?”

“I don’t want you to take care of me so well.”

I find her mouth, capture those tender lips, twine my tongue with hers.

She shifts in my arms, holds my neck, and swings one leg around to straddle me. My cock grows heavy, pressing in the notch of her legs, the heat of her core sending darts of lust through my bloodstream. I’m not going to lose control this time, though.

My female needs me. Needs comforting. Gentleness. And, wonder of wonders, my wolf submits. The need to protect her trumps his need to mate. My teeth stay human sized, even as my cock grows.

“Don’t tell me you can’t have sex with me.” She tears open my button-down, popping the buttons.

Oh fates and all things sanctified.

I carry her to my bedroom and lay her down gently on her back. I shove her skirt up and yank the gusset of her panties to the side, placing my mouth where it always wants to be. Right on her core. Tasting her sweet essence, giving her pleasure. Satisfying her.

She arches, pulling her knees up to open wide.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

She reaches down to help, rubbing her clit as I penetrate her with my tongue. “I want your cock, big man. I need it here.” She taps her pussy.

I groan.

Can I do this?

I have to.

She’s my female, and she needs me. Even the wolf understands.

I grab a condom from my dresser.

“Clothes off,” she commands. “I want to see all of you, Jackson King.”

I smile and peel my clothing off with purpose, standing in the light of the nearly full moon through the window. “I’ll let you give the orders, just this once, kitten.” I roll the condom on my length, grinning at her wide-eyed attention. “Because I fucked up earlier. But don’t forget who has the wooden spoon.”

Her face flushes, and the scent of her arousal fills the room, even stronger than before.

I grip the base of my cock and point it in her direction. “Like what you see?”

“No wonder it hurt,” she says, but she’s wearing a grin.

“Clothes off, kitten. That will be a rule. You should never be wearing more clothing than I am.”

I take the musical ring of her laugh as another win.

I’m going to take care of you, baby.

She shimmies out of her clothing and lies back. I see why I was fooled. There’s nothing innocent about her peach-tipped breasts, the curve of her hips, her neatly trimmed mons, and long, shapely legs. Even with a blush on her cheeks, she gives me come hither eyes. I don’t know how she made it this long without having sex, but my wolf is doing double backflips in celebration of being the first.

I want to groan. I want to sing. Worship at the altar of her body for the rest of my life.

I will keep it together this time. I owe her.