Chapter 013 Full Authority
“You have full authority over the network infrastructure.”
Julian watched Quinn closely as the words left his mouth. No gloating. No smug little twist to those full lips. Just a nod, sharp and efficient, like she’d expected nothing less.
The elders’ meeting had been a bloodbath. Three hours of snarling accusations and posturing. Sterling had ripped into her—competence, loyalties, her right to even breathe pack air. Jeremiah pounding the table about traditions that had held for generations, like stone walls against the world. Only Irene had stayed steady, her gaze slicing through the bullshit, filing every growl and half-truth for later.
Quinn hadn’t flinched. She’d laid out the breach like a prosecutor gutting a witness. Facts. Logs. Timestamps. The elders’ precious legacy protocols cracked wide open, bleeding data. She’d faced down a room of Alphas-in-waiting and made them squirm.
His wolf had paced inside him, restless. Claim her. Now.
He’d reined it in. Barely.
“Full authority,” she echoed, tasting the phrase like it might bite. “Meaning I can roll out whatever security measures I need without council sign-off first?”
“Within reason.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the desk. The wood dug into his hips. Solid. “Big structural overhauls still need pack vote. But ops—access controls, monitoring, threat hunts? That’s your call.”
“And the ghost account? The backdoor?”
“Chase it down. Find who buried it there. I want a name.”
Her grey eyes sharpened, already miles ahead, mapping code paths and dead ends. Brilliant. This tiny human who’d stormed his world, pink hair like a flare in the dim office light, turning everything sideways.
She was staring at him. Heat building in that look.
“Why?” Simple. Direct.
“Why what?”
“Why hand me the keys? Sterling lost his shit. Called it betrayal, trusting an outsider over pack ways. This’ll bite you in the ass.”
Because you’re right. Pack bleeding out, blind spots everywhere. Too proud to admit he couldn’t sniff out every threat alone. Every time she pushed back, it lit something feral. Strangle her. Or fuck her until she couldn’t argue anymore.
“Practicality trumps tradition when survival’s on the line,” he said, voice gravel. “You’ve got skills I don’t. My job’s protecting the pack. Every tool. Even if it’s... unexpected.”
Her mouth quirked. “Unexpected?”
“Five-foot-nothing. Pink hair. Dressed like a con rat. Not the picture-book image of a security wizard.”
“And yet, here I am, saving your pack’s ass.”
“Language.”
“Sorry.” Zero remorse. “Saving your pack’s posterior.”
A bark of laughter clawed up his throat. Impossible woman. Stomping through hierarchy like it was tissue paper. No deference. No fear.
He ached for her. Bone-deep.
“Expect pushback,” he warned, shoving off the desk. “Not all wolves’ll roll over. They’ll test you. Sabotage. Run to elders. Or me.”
“And then?”
“Bring it to me. I’ll crush it.”
“Or.” She stepped in. Too close. Her scent hit him—sweet, curling like smoke from a hidden fire. “I handle it. Not helpless, Julian. Dealt with assholes my whole career.”
“Human assholes. Pack’s different. Primal.”
“So show me.” Closer still. Heat radiating off her skin. “Want me to win? Teach the rules. Don’t shield me—arm me.”
Wolf surged. Yes. Strong mate. Every instinct screamed to grab her. Bridge the gap. He locked his muscles. Granite.
“Reasonable.”
“I’m reasonable.”
“Stubborn. Mouthy. Never quits.”
“True.” Smile flashed, wicked. “But now I’m your stubborn, mouthy hire. Professionally.”
Mine.
The word ripped through him. Wolf latched on, spinning visions—teeth in her throat, knot deep, bond sealed forever. No more “professional.”
He swallowed hard. “Check-ins. Daily. Status. Threats—”
She pushed up on her toes. Lips brushed his. Quick. Gone before he blinked. Cheeks pink. Eyes sparkling—gratitude, heat.
“Thank you. For trusting me. Wasn’t easy.”
Control snapped.
Hand to her neck. Hauling her in. She yelped—turned moan—as his mouth took hers. Not frantic like last night. Slow. Thorough. Ruining.
He savored her. Lips parting under his. Tongue coaxing gasps, whimpers. Coffee. Defiance. Her.
Wolf howled. Ours. Finally.
Backed her to the wall. Pinned her. Small. Fragile bones under his bulk. But she fought back—fists in his shirt, nails digging, hips grinding. Feral spark in her kiss. Blood roared.
“Julian—” Broken gasp as he trailed down her throat. Pulse thundering. Rabbit-quick. Bite. Mark.
Teeth grazed. No break. She shuddered. Arched.
“God, that—” Head lolled. Throat bared. Submission. Wolf preened.
Sweater neck slipped. Breast swell exposed. Rosy peak. Mouth closed over it—fabric barrier, salt and heat. Pure. He sucked. Bit light.
She bucked. Whimpered. Shocked need.
Hand down. Waistband. Ass cheek filled his palm. Squeezed. She rocked on his cock—hard, straining. Heat seeping through denim. Promise.
Further. Fingers found her clit. Swollen. Slick. Circled.
Cry ripped from her. Raw music.
“Yes. Please, Julian—”
Dipped low. One finger probing. Tight. So fucking tight. Vision hazed. Thumb on clit. She shattered—shudders, clench, scent exploding. Arousal thick, dizzying.
Kneel. Taste her raw. Spread her. Bury tongue until screams. Floor. Knot her. Moon demanding. Claim. Bind.
No. Not here. Not half-lost to beast.
Groan tore free. Pulled back. She whined. Eyes glazed, lips wrecked.
“Julian?” Shaky.
“Stop. Have to.”
“Why?” Clinging. Arching.
“Moon tomorrow.” Rough. “Control’s fraying. Won’t first time battling wolf.”
Eyes darkened. “Your wolf...”
“Wants claim. Mark. Permanent bond.” Forehead to hers. Kissed brow. “Deserve choice. Not force.”
Vulnerability flashed. Then chin up. “What if conquered’s what I want?”
“Fuck, kitten.” Pain groan. “Not now.”
Stared. Lips parted. Pulled away slow. Fixed clothes. Trembling hands. Slid under his arm. Desk between them. Mask up. Hurt lingering.
“Unprofessional. Sorry.”
Wrong. All wrong. Touching her—rightest thing ever. Ache bloomed.
“Not unprofessional.” Low. “Inevitable. Timing off.” Nodded window. Moon sliver mocking. “Fair to you.”
“Human? Fragile?”
“This isn’t fuck-and-forget. Take you? Claim permanent. Know that first.”
Quiet. Gears whirring. Flowcharts in her head. Risks. Odds.
“Okay with permanent?” Soft. “Me wanting it? Protecting me—or you?”
No answer. Didn’t know.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Slow down.” Arms uncrossed. Easier. “But I’m not running. Whatever this—your fears—I don’t scare. Don’t quit who I care for.”
Wolf purred. Chest cracked. Door ajar.
“Should scare. Not easy to love.”
“Like challenges.” Mischief back. “Noble torture over? Breach to hunt. Pack to save. Or more kissing? Flexible.”
“Kitten.”
“Professional. Check.” Laptop snatched. Door pause. “Julian?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t trust easy. You’re first in ages making me want to.” Gaze held. Raw. “Both risking.”
Gone.
Office empty. Heart slamming. Wolf raging need. Walls dust.
She’d wreck him. Certain.
Not like Morgana. No silk lies, hidden knives. Quinn charged straight—challenges open, no games. Real. Saving pack. Herself.
Dangerous. Real dangerous.