Chapter 3

I’m too busy convincing my wolf not to jump her. She tries again. “What department are you in?” I’m not going to admit I’m the CEO. “Marketing.” I infuse the word with the disgust marketing inspires in me. It’s true that the majority of my time is now spent on marketing or management, when I’d much prefer programming and never interacting face-to-face with another soul. She laughs, a husky, sweet sound. Despite the fact she can’t see me, she peers up in my direction with a look of fascination on her face. Her hair, a thick shiny chestnut, hangs in loose waves over her shoulders. It’s too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but her full lips are glossed, and the way they part now makes me want to claim that lush mouth. “One of those guys, huh? That is sad.” I smile—a rare occurrence for me. She’s already made me laugh, something I haven’t done in twenty years. “What position are you interviewing for?” “infosec.” Hot and nerdy. Interesting. She must have mad skills to rate an interview. My company is the best in the world for information security. “You have much experience in the field?” “Some.” She sounds noncommittal in that way that makes me think she actually knows her stuff. The power has been out for a long time—at least ten minutes. I fish my phone from my pocket and try to dial my secretary again but still can’t get a signal. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck in here?” Her voice wavers on the word stuck. Fates, I’ve never had the urge to pick up a woman’s hand before. My shirt collar’s too tight. I wish to hell I hadn’t worn a suit and tie. Of course, I wish that every day, but rarely have a choice, even though it’s my damn company. Once we reached a certain level, I had to conform to the dress code of corporate America when I had outside meetings—even in Tucson, which is notoriously relaxed in its dress code. My little programmer, however, nailed the outfit—just the right mix of hipster with the bat tits and bare legs, and corporate with the suit and heels. I don’t know when I started thinking of her as my little anything, but I have. The second she walked on the elevator and I inhaled her scent, my wolf screamed mine. “I mean, do you think it will be hours? It won’t be hours, right?” She’s losing her breath again. It’s all I can do not to pull her onto my lap and hold her until all that trembling stops. “Don’t make me grope you again.” Okay, I definitely shouldn’t say that, even if she said it first. The remark has its intended effect, though. She snorts, which changes up her breathing pattern and helps her chill out. “So you’re nervous about the interview?” I ask. Chitchat isn’t part of my repertoire, but it seems I’d do anything her calm down. Or maybe I just want to hear her voice again. “You don’t seem nervous.” “Besides the whole panic attack thing you’re doing a manly job distracting me from?” My wolf preens at the compliment. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” she says, and the muscles of my groin seize almost painfully at the purr in her voice. She’s seducing me, and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Maybe talking is a bad idea. “Okay,” I respond. “I’ve never worked a real job before. I mean, I have a job now, but it’s all telecommuting. I’ve never been in an office like this.” “Think you can take it?” “You know, five years ago I would’ve barfed at the thought. But, actually, SeCure is the one and only company I would put a suit and heels on for.” And every male in the building thanks God she did. “Why is that?” “SeCure represents the pinnacle of infosec. I mean, Jackson King is a genius. I’ve been following him since I was ten years old.” I try to stop my wolf from strutting. “You sure you want to leave the pajamas at home and come into an office every day?” “Yeah. It’d be good to have a reason to leave the house. Programming can be lonely. I mean, I do my best work alone but, it might be nice to be around people like me. Maybe find my tribe. Feel normal, you know?” I don’t know. I haven’t had a tribe since I abandoned my birth pack with my fur soaked with my stepfather’s blood. A company full of humans is a poor substitute. “If you’re interviewing here for infosec, you must be talented,” I say to distract myself from bad memories. “I have been coding since I was young,” she says dismissively, which again makes me think she’s downplaying her talent. “Being a teen geek girl definitely disqualified me from normal.” “Normal is overrated. You just need to find your pack.” “Pack?” “I meant tribe.” “No, I like pack. That makes me a lone wolf.” There’s a smile in her voice, and I bite back a sharp remark. Being a lone wolf isn’t as cool as it sounds. Even if it is all I deserve. “So…” She has the tone of someone who’s been waiting to ask something. “Have you ever met Jackson King?” I hide a smile, even she can’t see it. “Mmm. A few times, yeah.” “What’s he like?” I shrug in the darkness. “Hard to say.” “Hard to say because he doesn’t reveal much?” I keep my mouth shut. “That’s what I’ve heard. So is he the awkward kind of geek or the creepy kind?” I wasn’t aware of the various categories of geek. I don’t consider myself a geek, but, then, as a shifter, I don’t consider myself in any human category. “I’m guessing the creepy kind,” she goes on. “Because no one that hot should be so anti-social. I mean, he must have some serious flaws. According to rumor, the man never dates. They say he has no social life whatsoever. Never goes out. Total recluse. He must be damaged. Or else gay. I bet he’s the type who keeps his boyfriend tied up in a closet for whipping when he comes home at night.” Again, my face almost cracks into a smile. I’ll show you whipping, little Batgirl. “Sounds like you know a lot about him.” “Oh...I, uh...I guess I’m interested in him. He’s kind of a celebrity to fellow geeks. I mean his original coding was pure genius, especially for the time.” This time, I do grin. Her assessment of me, apart from the gay whipping boy part, makes my pulse pick up speed. Another anomaly. I don’t care for attention, and she’s right—I don’t give up personal information. I have too big a secret to hide. But her interest in me has my wolf pirouetting. Mine. “So, what kind of geek are you?” I ask. “Apparently the kind who blathers like an idiot to strange men when she’s confined in elevators. But I’m sure you already picked that up. Sorry—I normally have a better-than-average filter.