The Alpha and His Temptation

Chapter 1

Holy ironies, Batman.

When I was a teenager, I hacked a company and waved a virtual victory flag in the face of the founder and CEO. Nine years later, I am at the same company for a job interview. And not for just any job, one in security. Specifically, information systems security. If I get the job, I'll defend the company from hackers like Gatichica, my old DefCon identity.

So I sit here, in the opulent lobby of SeCure's international headquarters, wondering if they will somehow recognize me and lead me out of the place in handcuffs.

A group of employees walk past me, laughing and talking. They look relaxed and happy, like they're headed to a resort and not their nine-to-five routine.

Damn, I want this job.

I changed my clothes about ninety-seven times this morning and I usually don't pay attention to what I wear. But this is the interview of my life and I am obsessed with getting every detail right. In the end, I chose an elegant black suit, one of those with a fitted jacket and short skirt. I opted not to wear pantyhose and go bare-legged, but I did wear a pair of sexy heels.

Under the suit jacket I was wearing my favorite Batgirl t-shirt. It fits snugly across my breasts and the bright hot pink bat is centered perfectly between the lapels of my jacket.

The outfit screams that I'm a "young, hip" IT genius, while the suit is a nod to the conservative corporate environment. I debated whether to wear the heels or sneakers, but in the end, the heels won which is a shame because when Stu, my contact, comes for me, I'll have to stand up and walk in them.

If my teenage hacker self saw me now, he would laugh in my face and tell me I was a sellout. But even she shared my obsession with SeCure's billionaire founder/owner, Jackson King. An obsession that has transformed into admiration with a strong dose of s****l attraction.

Okay, he has me in love. But Jackson is a man worth it. He is a billionaire philanthropist who never fails to impress you. Not to mention how divine he is.

Especially for a geek.

And the one moment we shared, the moment I overcame all security measures and came face to face with him, well, cursor to cursor, is etched in my memory as the hottest encounter of my youth. I didn't steal anything from him. He simply wanted to see if he could get in, crack the impenetrable code. I got out after he found me and never risked doing it again.

Now, I might have another chance at a cyber combat with King, and the thought excites me.

Especially since, this time, my actions wouldn't be illegal.

"Miss McDaniel?"

I jump to my feet, my hand already extended and ready for the greeting. I just wobble a little on my heels.

-Hello. "Damn, I sound like I'm out of breath." I force my shoulders to relax and smile as I shake the hand of the person greeting me.

—Hi, I'm Stu Daniel, information security manager at SeCure. He—he looks like a classic nerd, with glasses, a polo shirt, and dress pants, in his thirties. He lowers his eyes for a second to the pink bat in the middle of my breasts and then removes them. Maybe the t-shirt wasn't a good idea.

I keep shaking his hand, probably for too long. I read five business books to prepare for today, but I don't remember what Interviews for Dummies said about the appropriate length of a handshake.

—Nice to meet you.

Luckily, Stu is as awkward as I am. He continues to look down. Not like he was trying to be perverted, but like he was too shy to maintain eye contact.

—Follow me, we will go to the sixth floor for the interview.

In addition to unbreakable cyber security, SeCure's physical fortress is also well protected.

When I crossed the gleaming marble floors and presented myself at the main reception desk, I was told to wait in the lobby for an “escort” for my interview.

I follow my escort.

—What a beautiful building they have.

Okay, that was pathetic. I'm not good at small talk, not one bit. Maybe I shouldn't have spent the last eight years hiding from all kinds of social interaction. IT geeks shouldn't have to do interviews like normal people. They should just have to do a test or hack something. But SeCure probably already knows my code-breaking skills, or so the headhunter said. I almost choked on my coffee when she called me out of the blue. I thought it was a joke from one of my former online compatriots:

the Clean Clan. But no, it was legit.

Plus, the chances of anyone from my old life finding me now are zero. At least I hope so.

Stu takes me to the elevator and presses the up arrow.

An elevator doors open to reveal a man in a sharp suit with his head buried in his phone. Tall and broad-shouldered, he takes up more than his share of the elevator. Without looking away, he moves to the side to give us space.

Stu lets me in first and I suppress my panic. It is a small elevator, but not too small. I can handle it. If they give me the job, I'll find out where the stairs are.

I focus on the shiny buttons and hope it's a quick trip.

Before my escort can enter, someone calls his name.

“Wait a second,” Stu says as a young woman approaches, followed by two other people.

—Stu, the Galileo server went down this morning… Excellent. Just what I need: spending more time than necessary in an elevator. I swallow, ignoring the tingling I feel on my skin. A panic attack will not make a good impression.

Stu sticks his foot out of the door as the young woman opens her laptop to show him something.

The door closes and the elevator ascends. Just like that, I'm left without my escort. This is where strict security came in.

I press the button with the number six. I know where I'm going.

The sooner I get out of this little box of death, the better.

We're halfway there when the lights flash.

Once, twice, then they go out.

-What the hell…? —I stay silent to concentrate on breathing. I have a ten second window before I panic.

The man next to me murmurs something. His phone screen casts an eerie blue light on the walls.

The elevator car screeches to a stop.

"Oh no. Here it comes". My heart thunders in my chest;

my lungs fight to receive oxygen.

“Stop,” I tell my panic. "No problem. The elevator will start up again in a second. "You're not trapped here."

My body doesn't believe me. My stomach turns and I start to sweat. Everything goes dark. Either my vision has dimmed or the guy just put the phone to his ear. I balance on my feet.

The big guy curses.

—There is no reception here.

My heel twists and I grip the railing, breathing raggedly.

-Hey. —The man has a voice that matches his gigantic, deep and resonant size. He would find it sensual under other circumstances. Are you panicking?

—With a slight disdain in the tone.

"It's not my fault, friend."

-Yeah. —I can barely respond between gasps. I cling to the railing as if my life depended on it.

"Stay standing. Don't faint, not now. Not here".

—I don't like small spaces. —"That doesn't do it justice."

Did the elevator just move? Or am I losing control of my body? Panic takes over me. «I'm going to die here. "I'm not going to be able to get out."

Two large hands push me against the elevator wall, pinning me down and pressing on my sternum.

-What are you doing? -panting.

—I activate your calm reflex. He sounds calm, as if pushing girls who are hyperventilating against the wall is part of his daily life. Is working?

-Yeah. Being touched by a stranger always calms me down. — I swore I would hide my sarcasm until I got the job, but here he comes to spout nonsense. That's what happens when a girl is seconds away from fainting.

"I'm not groping you," he replies.

"That's what all men say," I murmur.

He stops his short laugh as soon as it starts. Almost as if he didn't want to let her out of her.

Who is this guy?

My heart rate slows, but my head is still spinning. I had never had a man so close to me before. And much less touching me. If I went up a few more inches, I'd be grabbing my breasts.

"Well, that wouldn't be so bad." Sensations course through me that I have not felt before outside the privacy of my bedroom.

“It's not that I mind you groping me,” I stammer.

I think you should invite me to dinner first.

He removes his hands from my sternum so quickly that I stumble forward. Before he can fall, he grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around. He hugs me from behind and applies pressure to my sternum again.

-How about this? —Sounds entertaining—. Better? I don't want my good deed of the day to end with a s****l harassment complaint.

"God, his voice." His lips are next to my ear. He's not trying to seduce me, but man, damn, just the words "s****l harassment" set my body on fire.

-I'm sorry. "It's hard for me to talk a little." I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. What I meant was… thank you.

For a moment, he doesn't move, and I inhale beneath his firm hands that surround me, protect me, keep me safe. And all I can think is…damn. I thought a panic attack would be bad. Now I'm trapped in an elevator, wrapped in the arms of a total stranger. And super excited. It's like my p***y is disconnected from my body. The rest of my body is racing with worry, but my v****a thinks that having a stranger manipulating me in a dark elevator is a good reason to get horny.

—You should sit down.

I apparently have no choice, because he lowers me to the ground with constant, inexorable pressure. Once there, he leans me against the wall, maneuvering me with his firm but soft hands as if I were a doll. There are sharp words on the tip of my tongue: “I'm a grown woman, not a Barbie,” but sitting feels good. Despite her blunt caveman act, she's looking out for me. I almost miss having his hands on my breastbone.

—Where did you learn that? I ask to distract myself from the fact that I'm trapped in a tight rectangle of space with a guy who has no qualms about running his hands all over my body. I have no qualms about it either, although I wish I could remember what it looks like. All I have is the vague impression of a sharp jaw and an air of impatience. I was too focused on psyching myself up to get on the elevator to see it.

—Years and years of harassing women in dark places.

Ah! Another person who loves clever jokes. I like it even more.

“Thank you,” I say after a moment.

He sits next to me and his suit jacket brushes against mine.

—You're still panicking.

—Yes, but I feel better. Talking would help me.

We can talk?

-Well. —Then he adopts a German accent to sound like Freud—. When did you notice the problem for the first time?

~.~ Jackson THE beautiful human woman's LAUGHTER is so loud she nearly chokes on it. She continues laughing for a moment, a little hysterical. She bursts out laughing every time she tries to speak.

Finally, he manages to say:

—I meant talking to distract myself… talking about something else.

I never joke, especially at work, but the long-legged brunette in a short, tight skirt puts my body on alert in an all-too-pleasant way. I feel better now that I'm not touching her.

When I did, the electricity between us lit a fire under my skin. The vividness and ardor of change took hold of me as quickly as if I were a pubescent teenager just learning to transform. I was about to spread her legs, hike that tiny skirt up to her waist, and claim her right there.

In fact, my wolf senses went crazy the moment he stepped into the elevator. I try my best to stay quiet and study her. Her smell intoxicates me, like an exotic flower asking to be plucked, but decidedly human. None of this makes sense. There is no reason why I should be attracted to her, other than the fact that she is beautiful. I had never been attracted to a human before; Damn, I've never even been attracted to a wolf, not even on a full moon.

To make matters worse, she became aroused when I touched her; the aroma of her nectar fills the confined space. For the first time in my life, my fangs sharpened, coated in serum, ready to sink into her flesh and forever mark her as mine.

But it's crazy. I can't mark a human, she wouldn't survive. This human, no matter how beautiful she is, she cannot be my partner.

I watch her, with a clear advantage because I can see in the dark and she can't. She is awesome in every way:

long shapely legs, an ass that fills the short skirt and Batgirl t**s. I mean, she has a bright pink bat on the front of her t-shirt, right over a pair of perky t**s. And something about that bat drives me over the edge. A gutsy little superhero, she begs to be dominated.

I guess that makes me the villain.

-What is your name? —She asks me.

I don't dare answer him.

—J. T.

—I'm Kylie. I'm here for an interview, so she was nervous from the beginning.

I'm not friendly. I discourage my employees from interacting with me except to give me information in the most distilled format. But, for some reason, I don't mind his feeble attempt at conversation. Which doesn't mean I'll bother responding.

I'm too busy convincing my wolf not to fall on him.

She tries again.

-What department do you work in?

I'm not going to admit that I'm the CEO.

-Marketing. —I infuse the word with the disgust that marketing inspires in me. Admittedly, I now spend most of my time in marketing or administration, when I'd rather code and never interact face-to-face with another soul.

She laughs, a sweet, hoarse sound. Even though she can't see me, she looks in my direction with a hint of fascination on her face. Her hair, a thick, shiny brown, falls in loose waves over her shoulders. It's too dark to make out the color of her eyes, but her full lips are glossy, and the way they open now makes me want to claim that lush mouth.

"So you're one of those guys, huh?" How sad.

I smile, something rare for me. She already made me laugh, something I haven't done in twenty years.

—What position are you interviewing for?

-Security of the information.

Attractive and nerdy. Interesting. She must have excellent skills to get an interview. My company is the best in the world in information security.

—Do you have a lot of experience in the field?

-Something. —She sounds evasive in a way that makes me think she really knows what she's doing.

The power went out a long time ago, at least ten minutes. I take my phone out of my pocket and try to call my secretary again, but I still don't get a signal.

"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?" — Her voice wavers on the word “trapped.”

By the gods, he'd never felt the need to hold a woman's hand before. The collar of my shirt is too tight. I wish I hadn't worn a suit and tie. Of course, I want that every day, but I rarely have a choice, even though it's my damn company.

Once we reached a certain level, I had to adhere to corporate America's dress code when I had outside meetings, even in Tucson, which is notoriously relaxed in its dress code.

My little programmer, however, got the outfit right: the perfect combination of hipster with bat t**s and bare legs, and corporate with a suit and heels. I don't know when I started thinking of her as mine, but I did. The second she stepped into the elevator and I inhaled her scent, my wolf screamed "mine."

—So, do you think it will be hours? It won't be hours, right? —He's losing his breath again. I try my best not to put her on my lap and hold her until all the shaking stops.

"Don't make me touch you again." —Okay, I definitely shouldn't say that, even if she said it first. But the comment has the desired effect.

She huffs, which changes her breathing pattern and helps her relax.

—So, are you nervous about the interview? -asked.

Small talk isn't part of my repertoire, but it seems like I'd do anything to calm her down. Or maybe I just want to hear her voice again. You don't look nervous.

"Apart from the whole panic attack thing where you're doing superman work to distract me?"

My wolf preens at the compliment.

“I'll tell you a secret,” he says, and my groin muscles tighten almost painfully at the purr in his voice. She is seducing me and she doesn't even know she is doing it.

Maybe talking is a bad idea.

"Okay," I reply.

—I've never had a real job before. I mean, now I have a job, but it's all through teleworking. She had never been in an office like this.

—Do you think you can adapt?

—You know, five years ago I would have vomited at the idea.

But really, SeCure is the only company I would wear a suit and heels for.

And all the men in the building thank God for doing it.

-Because?

—SeCure represents the pinnacle of information systems security. I mean, Jackson King is a genius. I've been following him since he was ten years old.

I try to keep my wolf from putting on airs.

—Are you sure you want to leave your pajamas at home and come to the office every day?

-Yeah. It would be nice to have a reason to leave the house. Programming can be very lonely. I mean, I do my best work alone, but it can be nice to be around people like me. Maybe I'll find my tribe. Feel like a normal person, you know?

Don't know. I haven't had a tribe since I left my birth pack with my fur soaked in my stepfather's blood.

A company full of humans is a poor substitute.

“If you have an interview here in information security, you must be talented,” I tell him to distract myself from the bad memories.

"I've been programming since I was young," he simply says, which again makes me think he's downplaying his talent. Being a geeky teenager definitely disqualified me from being normal.

—Normal is overrated. You just need to find your pack.

-Herd?

—I meant tribe.

—No, I like “pack.” That makes me a lone wolf. —There is a joy in his voice and I suppress an intrepid comment. Being a lone wolf isn't as cool as it seems. Even if it's all I deserve.

“So…” He has the tone of someone who has been waiting to ask something. Have you encountered Jackson King?

I hide a smile, although she can't see it.

-Hmm. A couple of times, yes.

-How is he?

I shrug in the dark.

—It's hard to say.

—Is it difficult to say because it doesn't reveal much?

I keep my mouth shut.

—That's what I heard. So, is he the awkward kind of geek or the disturbing kind?

I didn't know the different categories of geek. I don't consider myself a geek, but, as a changeling, I don't consider myself in any human category.