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.
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?”