Chapter 2

"Not that I'm objecting to this whole situation," I ramble, "but maybe you should at least buy me dinner first-" His hands immediately release from my sternum, and I nearly pitch forward. Before I can stumble, he catches my shoulders and spins me around, holding me securely from behind, once again applying pressure to my chest. "Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'd rather my good intentions not end up as an HR complaint." His voice is deep and close to my ear, unintentional but undeniably stirring. The words "HR complaint" do more than they should. "Apologies," I manage, my voice barely steady. "I didn't mean to accuse you. I just meant...thank you." For a moment, he doesn't move, and I can feel his hands grounding me, strong and reassuring. A wave of realization hits: I was dreading a panic attack, and now here I am in a dark elevator, held by a complete stranger-my reaction, decidedly unexpected. My mind is focused on calming down, yet somehow my body's responding to his presence in ways I didn't anticipate. "You should sit," he says. Without waiting for much of a response, he gently guides me down, easing me to the floor with surprising care. Settling me against the wall, his hands are both firm and considerate. The need to remind him that I'm fully capable of sitting myself subsides as I find myself surprisingly comfortable. "Where'd you pick up that calming trick?" I ask, hoping to distract myself from the surreal scenario of being this close to a stranger. I wish I remembered his face-something about a strong jawline and a slightly impatient air. I'd been too preoccupied with my own nerves to really take notice before. "Years of experience scaring women in dark places," he replies with deadpan humor. A fellow dry wit. I find myself appreciating him even more. "Thank you," I say sincerely after a moment. He sits down beside me, his suit jacket brushing mine. "You're still uneasy." "Yes, but talking helps. Can we talk?" I ask. Adopting a German accent, he quips, "Tell me, when did you first become aware of zee problem?" Ermes pov The stunning woman laughs so hard she almost chokes, her giggles spilling over with a hint of hysteria, each attempt to speak met with more laughter. Finally, she manages to say, "I meant conversation to distract me-from anything else." I'm not one to joke, especially at work, but this tall brunette in a fitted, short skirt has my senses on high alert, her presence sparking an unusual intensity in me. Now that I'm no longer touching her, it's easier to keep some composure. When we made contact, it felt like a live wire, the intensity rushing through me like a young wolf experiencing his first shift. The urge to pull her close, tilt her head back, and claim her overwhelmed me, testing every bit of my restraint. From the moment she entered the elevator, her scent captivated me-a mix of something wild and exotic, entirely human yet deeply enticing. This pull defies logic. I've never been interested in a human before, let alone felt this way for a she-wolf, even during the height of the full moon. Yet here I am, reacting to her every move. Worse, she responded to my touch. Her arousal filled the confined space, triggering instincts I barely recognized. For the first time in my life, my fangs sharpened instinctively, eager to mark her as mine, even though I know a human couldn't survive that. She may be beautiful, but she cannot be my mate. I take a moment to observe her; my enhanced vision grants me a view she doesn't share. She's captivating: long, shapely legs, a fitted skirt that flatters her figure, and a T-shirt with a bold, hot-pink bat symbol displayed right above her curves. Something about that playful detail draws me in, almost daring me to cross a line. "What's your name?" she asks. I hesitate, then reply, "E.S." "I'm Amira. Here for an interview, so I was already nervous before all this." Typically, I'm reserved, discouraging personal interactions with employees unless strictly work-related. Yet, for some reason, her attempt at conversation doesn't bother me. Not that I'm going to fully engage, of course. She tries again, "What department do you work in?" "Marketing," I say with a touch of disdain. It's not a lie-many of my responsibilities now revolve around marketing or management, though I'd much rather spend my days programming and avoid all face-to-face interactions. She chuckles, a rich, warm sound. Though it's dark, she tilts her head up toward me with a curious, inviting look. Her hair, a thick chestnut brown, falls in loose waves over her shoulders. I can't see her eye color, but her lips are glossed, and the slight parting of her mouth draws my attention in a way I haven't felt in decades. "One of those guys, huh? That's a shame." I find myself smiling-a rarity. It's been years since anyone has drawn a laugh out of me. "What position are you interviewing for?" "InfoSec," she replies. Smart and skilled. She must be exceptionally capable to have secured an interview here; our company is unmatched in information security. "Do you have much experience in the field?" "Some," she says casually, though her tone suggests she's far more knowledgeable than she lets on. It's been quite a while since the power went out-at least ten minutes. I retrieve my phone to call my assistant again, but the signal still doesn't go through. "How long do you think we'll be stuck here?" Her voice catches slightly at the word "stuck." For the first time, I have an impulse to take her hand. My shirt collar feels stifling, and I regret the suit and tie, though it's not like I have much of a choice, given my position. As CEO, I'm expected to adhere to the corporate dress code, even in a place as casual as Tucson. She, on the other hand, nailed her outfit. There's just the right balance of professional and edgy- the bat logo on her shirt, her bare legs, the blazer and heels. Somewhere along the line, she became my "little programmer" in my mind. The moment she entered and I caught her scent, my wolf instinctively claimed her as mine. "I mean, do you think it'll be hours? It won't be hours, right?" She sounds breathless again, and I have to hold back from pulling her close, letting her rest against me until her anxiety fades.