The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby (The Woolven Secret Book 2)

T
his book is
a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and don’t be a dick.

Published in the United States of America by

Saranna DeWylde
© 2016

C
over Art by Saranna DeWylde

Stock Photo: Dreamstime

I
sn’t
The Werewolf Tycoon’s Secret Baby
just the best title? I mean, I had to write this book for the title alone. I couldn’t help it. The world of The Woolven Secret just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I couldn’t be happier. As all these little twists and turns make themselves known to me, it’s such an adventure. I hope you fall in love with Drew and Emmie, just like I did.

Also, I know you guys waited a long time for this book and I’m sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be the best book it could be and I’m finally happy with the results. I appreciate your love and support so much.

G
in is for you
, Virg. Thank you for being a magical sugar fairy.

T
he first thing
Drew Woolven noticed about the kid outside the small artisan chocolate shop was that he had to be part demon. Kid was a complete holy terror.

His knuckles stung in remembrance of the jill-of-all-trades witch, Mrs. Westwood, who’d helped raise Drew and his brothers. If he’d even considered behaving like that kid, his knuckles would’ve been bloody for a week. Or worse, she have forced him to Change, trapped him in his wolf form and left him tied to a tree outside with only kibble and water until he learned how to behave properly.

Observing the child again, he concluded that he would’ve been on the business end of a newspaper, too. There was nothing more humiliating than being swatted with a newspaper and treated like a puppy.

Terrible little bastard
. Drew shook his head.

As a matter of course, he wasn’t overly fond of the creatures in a general sense—sup or natural. He’d be pleased to play the doting uncle once Blake and Randi decided to have pups. He’d let them climb all over him, take them running, teach them how to shift, fill them up with sugar, and then send them home. He didn’t do diapers, bedtimes, or…this.

The boy had to be about five.
Where was his mother
? Didn’t she know kids could get snatched and terrible things could happen to them? Although, he kind of pitied anyone who snatched this kid. They’d have their hands full.

To be fair, crime was mostly non-existent in Den Hollow. The Woolvens treated the town as if all of its residents as if they were family. Not only was it the right thing to do, but a well-loved and protected community didn’t question the needs or habits of the eccentric family that provided the lifeblood of the town. Its residents were either other kinds of supes or supe friendly. Like Gin Goodwich, the genius behind Which Sweet, and the magic chocolate that made Drew the happiest of beasties.

And contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t a witch at all, but a sugar fairy. She’d fled to Den Hollow after being held captive by bone fairies, using her to rot the teeth of children and steal them in the night.

Speaking of kids, the current one attracting Drew’s attention had climbed behind the counter and was rubbing all of the champagne truffles—Drew’s favorite and reason for sponsoring the shop—into his blond hair that had sadly been cut into the shape of a bowl.

His mother should be taken to task for the hair alone.

Where was the woman?

Or, he grudgingly admitted, it was more likely the kid was out with some absent father. Mandatory time, as he’d seen with his friends in prep school. The man probably just didn’t know how to handle him and the kid himself didn’t know how to get any attention, besides the bad kind.

All in all, a bad lot. But not Drew’s fault and it wasn’t fair to deny
him
the champagne truffles just because of their family angst. His wolf was strangely silent. In his youth, he’d been known to bite a person who tried to get between him and his chocolate. He was relieved that he had no urge to bite the child. There were some things one just didn’t do.

A strange scent hit him. Something familiar and warm. It was at war with the shrieking of the kid as Gin separated him from his bounty with a practiced hand.

The scent reminded him of the summer he spent in Santorini. Long days on the beach, nights spent on the water under the stars, and there’d been no responsibility. Nothing for him to do except
be
. He’d read so many books simply for the pleasure of reading, not because his tutors told him to. He’d eaten so much lamb, if he’d had a human metabolism he’d have been fat as a suckling pig.

And there’d been a woman. Of course there’d been a woman, there was always a woman. She’d been so beautiful. He remembered her long blond hair, wavy with salt water, pale streaks bleached white by the sun, and her tan skin, her long legs and her laugh… he’d been completely captivated by her. She’d been interested him, not because he was Drew Woolven, billionaire. Or Drew Woolven, Beta to Blake. He was just Andrew Phillips, a guy she met on the beach on vacation.

She smelled like summer, honey and apples.

Goddess, every time he thought about that night when she’d tasted like honey and apples too—the beach, and the stars… He’d never met another woman like her.

That was the scent taunting him now—honey, apples and
Emmie
.

“God, Gin. I’m so sorry. You know how he gets.” She shook her head. “I’ll pay for everything he ate.” She sighed heavily. “Noah Phelan Anderson.”

Her tone was sharp, but calm and the boy immediately stopped struggling, hung his head and, when placed on his feet, trudged over to Emmie.

This was Emmie’s son.

Emmie from Santorini
.

Emmie, the woman he thought he’d never see again. Beautiful, brilliant, sweet Emmie. He couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him.

With a son.

Someone else had claimed her, someone else made love to her, someone else—he cut the thoughts out of his head like a cancer. Emmie was human. She was never meant for him. He exhaled slowly.

“Gin, I’ll take care of the cost.” Drew found his voice, speaking to the rainbow-haired shop owner.

“That’s really not necessary, I—” Emmie broke off as her eyes raised ever so slowly to his face. “Andrew,” she gasped.

“We’re a long way from Santorini.” He smiled at her.

“Santorini?” Gin’s eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” The little blond boy looked up at his mother and tugged on her hand, chocolate all over his little face and in his hair.

“I know. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” She picked him up.

He looked so sad, his expression completely at odds with his earlier behavior. Maybe he wasn’t a little demon after all. Poor little guy. He seemed to really be contrite for his behavior.

She picked him up, but he squirmed to get one last look at the chocolate and, for a second, his brown eyes seemed amber.

But that had to be a trick of the light.

Emmie was human. Her son wouldn’t… he didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. That was insane.

Wasn’t it?

The kid had a mighty love for those truffles. Almost as if he couldn’t control himself.

Then he saw it. The crescent moon birthmark on his wrist that was just like Drew’s own.