The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby (The Woolven Secret Book 2) (14 page)

“Can I see you?”

Drew froze. He knew what she was asking. It wasn’t just to look at him without his clothes. She wanted to see him without his skin.

“Please, Drew. I promise I won’t be scared.”

“You won’t be scared of the wolf, but the warrior, you will fear. Like before.”

“Maybe, but I want to see him. Will you show me? I didn’t have time to really look before, to process. I need to see that part of you.”

He broke away from her, reluctance obvious on his face. “Perhaps this is for the best.”

His lips were as bee-stung as her own, his chest heaving as he steadied his breath, and she couldn’t help but think how incredibly beautiful he was.

There was no horrible crunching of bone, no tearing and rending of flesh, no satanic howls of agony. One moment, he was man and the next, in his place stood an amber wolf with burning ember eyes.

And the fluffiest tail.

“Can I touch your tail?”

He growled.

“No? Okay. Can I touch you?”

The giant wolf put his head down toward the ground and she reached out a shaking hand to stroke through his soft fur. Emmie looked into the creature’s eyes and she saw Drew there, the same soul looking back at her as she did when he was in his human shape. There really wasn’t much difference to her. One was Drew, so was the other. She’d recognize him anywhere, or so she hoped.

Now, it was time to face her fear.

“Show me the other face. The warrior.”

He turned his away from her, and it stabbed her in places that she didn’t know could hurt to think she’d done that to him.

“I’m ready. I won’t run.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t look away.”

It happened in the blink of an eye, his change from wolf to bipedal warrior.

Her fear spiked, of course it did. He was a slavering beast with teeth and claws out of her worst nightmare. Randi had described it perfectly, “like every horror movie werewolf she’d ever seen.”

But she forced herself to face him, after all, he wasn’t a monster.

He was Drew.

That form was terrible, but it was supposed to be. It was crafted for war, for fighting, to protect what was his, his pack.

Her.

She took a tentative step closer, and he was so very still. She wasn’t exactly even sure if he was breathing. Emmie had thought if she’d ever see him, it would be under the silver moon, but here he was, in all of his monstrous glory in the full light of day.

Emmie was frozen to the spot, she kept demanding her fingers move, demanded her muscles obey her and touch him. Reassure him. But she couldn’t. Not for a long time, and to his credit, he stood in the silence under her scrutiny until she did.

“Can I touch you like this, too?”

“Yes,” he answered.

Jesus Christ, his voice. It was horrible, terrible… yet, it was something else, too. It was raw and deep, it touched her like a physical caress. She moved closer still until her shoulder was against his chest.

He was so much bigger in this form.

Everywhere.

The press of his giant cock against her side was more than a little intimidating, but she wanted to touch that, too. If only she had the nerve.

She turned into him and looked up into that face, that rictus of death.

Emmie didn’t look at his teeth, or the foreign shape of his muzzle, but into his eyes. There he was. Still Drew.

Still the man who wanted to give her everything.

The father of her child.

Yes, even her mate, if she was bold enough to have him.

She put her hands on his shoulders and bit her lip. “I always said if I married a man with a hairy back, I’d make him wax.” Emmie giggled nervously.

He snorted, but held still for whatever else she wanted to do to him.

Emmie relaxed against his chest, rubbed her cheek on his pelt. She’d expected him to have an earthier scent, something… canine. But he didn’t He still smelled like winter, with perhaps a touch of loamy earth. It comforted her, it thrilled her.

It made her bold.

She reached down between them, running her palm down his flesh until she gripped his cock.

“Fuck,” he growled.

Again, his voice inspired the most delicious shivers.

She moved her palm along his shaft and it surged in her hand, swelling ever bigger. Emmie couldn’t help but think it was a monster, just like him. But she didn’t say it, because she didn’t know if he’d take it as the compliment she meant.

“Emmie—”

“If you keep talking to me in that voice, I’m going to come before we even get started.”

His head canted toward her, his eyes fixed on her like she was carnal prey, and indeed, she was.

She’d just issued a challenge, hadn’t she?

“No, you first.”

“As my mate commands.” Each syllable slid over her, inside of her—so very deep inside of her.

So Emmie concentrated on his cock, his thick, hard, beautifully shaped cock. She loved the feel of it in her hands, the weight of it. Emmie had never felt more powerful, more in control, and so very vital to him. She wanted to feel more of that.

He obviously did as well, hips thrusting forward to meet her strokes. All that fierce beast was completely under her control. She could grant or deny him pleasure at her will. That in itself was such a turn on.

Drew knew it, too, from the way he scented the air and the sound that rumbled from low in the back of his throat wasn’t a growl—more like a bestial purr.

“You could take me like this,” she whispered.

“Don’t tempt me.”

She varied her speed, slowing. “But I like tempting you.” Emmie licked her lips, thinking about other ways she could tempt him. She wondered what he’d do if she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth.

Did she dare put herself in so vulnerable a position?

He was still Drew. She trusted him.

Just as quickly as he’d become the beast, he was a man again.

“You wanted me to see him, but now we can’t play?”

“Goddess, Emmie. You don’t know how hard it is to keep from marking you in that form.”

“How hard is it?” she asked, still working his cock.

“Damn it, I’m not kidding. The beast is convinced you’ll be safer. It’s his prime directive, and I won’t do it.”

“What about me? Will you do me?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was like she’d been possessed by some seductress demon.

In one swift motion, he shredded her clothes and they slid off her body in tatters. She didn’t have time to process what had happened to her before he’d hauled her up with her legs around his waist and her back pressed against the cool marble of some statuary.

For a moment, she thought she saw darkness in his eyes. Twisting and curling tentacles pulling away all that was Drew and drowning them both in blood and pitch, but she refused to look, refused to acknowledge it. She squeezed her eyes closed and buried her face in his shoulder.

Not that she could’ve demanded he stop now anyway. Her whole body had become a bundle of nerves and each receptor seemed to be between her legs and his cock was pressed against her cleft.

She was lost in a fog of need, her desire a pulsing point of heat. Her senses were filled with him—the way his skin felt beneath her hands, the wintery scent of him, even the sound of his heartbeat, it thudded in her ears. It was as if she had supernatural hearing, too.

Perhaps she did. Her body was so attuned to his, it was almost as if he was part of her. Emmie wanted more of that, too. Needed it more than her next breath, and she wouldn’t get it unless he bit her.

With his hands on her hips, he moved her so that he could push inside of her slick heat.

Jesus God Almighty, this was better than anything had ever felt before. Even being with him in Santorini.

He was different now, more experienced. Stronger. Harder—everywhere. If she thought that first time with him had been bliss… Emmie had no words to describe what she felt. Yes, he was big and thick and filled her in just the right way, but he had before. The connection was stronger, deeper, somehow
more.

It was as if they were inside each other.

Emmie wanted this forever and didn’t know how she’d gone so long without it. She’d face whatever demons she had to, she didn’t care if the darkness she’d seen in Drew was real or imagined. She’d go with him into hell.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Emmie? Say it, say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped against his ear as he drove into her. “And you’re mine.”

She couldn’t help herself, she didn’t want to—she bit him. The feel of his flesh between her teeth made her want to rip and tear, but not to inflict pain. To set her mark on him so all far and wide would know that he was her mate.

Emmie had never had these thoughts before, these feelings. They were all so new and strange, but she could sooner fight the phase of the moon than she could these desires.

His nails dug into her back and a howl was torn from his Changing throat. His body spasmed against her as he climaxed and she knew what he wanted.

She offered him her throat and waited for the searing, awful pain that was sure to come.

Only it didn’t.

He eased her gently to her feet, and stepped away from her—one hundred percent human. “I told you I’m not going to do that. I can’t be responsible for that. You are my mate and I will stay with you for all of our days. We will raise our son. We can have a beautiful, charmed life. But I will not cross that line.”

“What about the Council?” she said breathlessly.

“We’re already at war. You were one of us, once. They can’t say shit.” He kissed her forehead and handed her his shirt. “Put this on.”

At her recalcitrance, he added, “We’re not done. We’re taking it inside.”

Inside was right. Her body was still on fire, her need throbbing and aching for the relief only he could provide.

He hauled her up in his arms again and carried her not to the house, but toward the garage.

“Where are we going?” She studied his profile.

“Secret passage. This will take us to the residential wing.”

She kissed his neck where she’d bitten him. He’d have one hell of a hickey, but she hadn’t broken the skin.

He tightened his grip on her.

“Do you like that?”

“You know I do.”

Emmie kissed it again, flicking her tongue against his flesh. This wasn’t her life, it couldn’t be. It was too insane, but somehow, it was kind of wonderful, too.

She hadn’t given up on the bite. Emmie would get what she wanted one way or another. She had this nagging feeling their lives depended on it.

C
radling Emmie close
, he carried her all the way up to his room. If he had his way, he’d keep her there for about a month.

But that’s not how this was going to go.

The place where she’d bitten him throbbed with pleasure. His beast yearned to return the mark, and it had seemed like for all intents and purposes that she wanted that, too.

Only he’d never forget the haunted look in Lenore Breslin’s eyes when she’d told him what had happened to Emmie. He never wanted her to remember. She swore it was a piece of her that was missing, but sometimes that wasn’t a bad thing. It was something she could do without. Those memories were a cancer and excising them was the only treatment, according to Lenore. He trusted the hunter. She’d been there, after all, and loved Emmie more than her own flesh and blood.

Emmie still smelled of desire and sex.

Knowing his scent was all over her and she was wet and hot for him had him hard and ready again. He couldn’t wait to get his face between her thighs again, to taste her, to drive her wild with pleasure.

He’d meant what he said, that they could have a good life together. Not being able to bite her, to truly mark her was painful, and perhaps even an abomination to the mate bond.

Losing her was worse.

He’d take her any way he could get her.

The door to his bedroom opened, and he was once again glad for the magick spells on the estate. It had anticipated his needs and the room was awash with the gentle light of a hundred candles. Rose petals had been spread out on the bed, and there was a bottle of champagne chilling alongside two glasses.

“How did you…”

“Magick,” he said. “Just like you.”

“Stop with that.” She blushed prettily.

“I get to tell my woman she’s beautiful any way I like.” He lay her gently on the bed. “And no takebacks. You said you’re mine, and that’s that.”

She laughed and the sound was a balm to all the hurting things, the dark things inside of him. “No? What if I changed my mind?”

“Nope. We’re done with that. You and me, forever.”

“That’s a big word.”

“You know what else is big?”

She blushed a brighter shade of pink. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Emmie reached out and cupped his cheek. “This is better than Santorini. The real you. All of you.”

He hadn’t realized that he needed to hear her speak those words out loud. It healed wounds he didn’t know were still bleeding.

This, it was enough.

He never thought he’d see Emmie again, and now here she was, in his shirt, in his bed, and she was
his
. Drew couldn’t, and wouldn’t ask for more.

“Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

He eased her back on the bed, and bent her knees apart so that he was between her thighs. “Show me,” he said again, with a grin.

Holding eye contact, she relaxed her legs so they were splayed wide for him.

“I like you in my shirt, spread out on our silk sheets. Maybe I’ll keep you there for at least a month.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

The scent of her drove him mad. He wanted more, wanted it always. Everything should always smell like her.

He rubbed his hands up and down the soft flesh of her legs. He loved the texture of her skin, her curves. Her softness. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to her mound.

A soft sigh escaped her and she raised her hips to him, offering more.

What bliss it was to bring pleasure to his mate.

Drew kissed her cleft as he would her mouth and he was rewarded with her ambrosia on his lips. He needed more of that, and so did she. He took his time with her, teasing her with his tongue, pushing her higher, drawing out her bliss. All the while he reveled in his task.

She writhed and arched to his touch and, when she was oh so close to that moment, she tunneled her fingers through his hair and forced his mouth where she wanted it.

He’d never been so hot for a woman. His beast was hot for her too, it loved the way she demanded what she wanted.

Emmie was still shuddering with her climax when he rose above her, preparing to enter her again. This time wouldn’t be like that time in the maze. Brutality had its time and place, and this wasn’t about claiming her, it wasn’t about fighting anything inside either of them.

It was about acceptance of who they were, what they could have, and being absolutely sure it was enough.

He locked his fingers with hers and slid inside of her slowly, pushing himself to the hilt. They moved together in tandem to a rhythm older than time. Staring deep into her eyes, he saw her. He saw all of her. The darkness and pain that she hid even from herself. The wolf that lay dormant and hidden.

And he didn’t turn away. He wanted all of her, wanted her to know he saw everything she was, everything she had been, and this was it for him. The rest didn’t matter. He could see the wolf, mourn for the future that might have been, but celebrate what they’d been given.

Drew wondered what she saw in his eyes. If she saw all the faces of the beast and the human. If it was a future she wanted.

“Yes,” she whispered out loud. “Yes.”

Their mating bond! It was complete even without the bite. She’d heard his thoughts, or had gotten a sense of them.

He released himself to the ecstasy then. Drew had the answers he needed, the connection he craved. Now, he could lose himself in her. He’d been almost ashamed that the bite of her blunt little teeth had pushed him over the edge earlier in the maze. He’d wanted to draw out her pleasure, wanted to show her that he was worthy and could meet any need she had—and would do so before seeing to his own.

But now that their bond was complete, he knew it had been about taking her own power, accepting it. He would give her that, and anything else she needed.

So he didn’t hold back, when he felt her body edging toward bliss again, he surrendered with her and allowed the tides of sensation to take him. He buried his face in her neck and kissed the place she’d wanted him to bite, nuzzled her.

“That tickles.” Although, she didn’t squirm away.

Drew scraped his stubbled chin against her cheek. “Does that tickle, too?”

“No, that does something else entirely.”

“Oh, really? Well, just give me a few minutes.” Perhaps she’d be the one keeping him in bed for a month. He had zero complaints.

“How about later tonight? I’ve never been away from Noah for this long before.” She rolled on her side to look at him. “I mean, I know he’s safe and he’s getting to know his family, but I miss him.”

He wasn’t ready to have this conversation, but it needed to be said. “We need to talk about Noah.”

“Oh god, what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember Mrs. Westwood talking about Academy?”

“I’m not ready to send him away.”

Drew could see the determination in her eyes, and how resolve hardened the set of her jaw. “I don’t want to send him away.”

“Really, because right after I told you I wanted to wait on sex, you bring up sending him away.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

The resolve melted and her shoulders sagged. “No, of course not. This is all so new and even the good things are kind of intimidating, to be honest. Tell me, then. Explain it to me. Why do we need to send him to Academy
now
?”

“Sebastian Monk, for one. Remember how I told you we found his cloak?”

She nodded. “I thought you said that we were safer at Aphelion, that you could protect us here.”

“I can. You are. But there are some things even I can’t protect him from here, like the way the werewolf body matures. When under high stress as children, we age faster. It’s a form of protection to make us big enough, strong enough, to fend for ourselves. Noah is already showing signs accelerated development.”

“I thought those were only those hyper alpha traits you keep talking about.”

“That’s something different.” He cupped her cheek. “I noticed it when we found the cloak. His hands seemed to lose some of their baby chubbiness right in front of me. The curve of his cheek and even his eyes. Being apart from him is going to be hard on you both, but I think you’d make the choice to give up seeing him every day for a year, and all the years of his childhood.”

“Would we still have to do this if I was a wolf, too?” she asked quietly. As if it were somehow her fault.

“Yes. Among our kind, it’s accepted that it happens. We don’t mourn that loss of childhood because our lives are so very long. Unless we’re killed by a hunter or another wolf. It’s not a loss, it’s a strength. But I know it’s different for you.”

“And it isn’t for you?”

“You’re right, I would mourn his childhood. I’ll mourn every new day I won’t get to see him, but I also know it’s the right thing.”

“So you’ve already made up your mind?”

“About what I think is right? Yes. About what we’re going to do about it? No. I wouldn’t take that choice away from you. I promised, remember?”

She pressed her lips together. “I remember. It’s still new to me that I can trust what you say to me. That your promises are real.”

“I know. Why don’t you talk to Lenore before she leaves?”

“I forgot she’s leaving today! I don’t want her to go, either. I wish I could tell her not to take that contract.” She scrambled out of bed, looking for clothes. The house obliged and provided jeans and clean underwear, but not a shirt.

Probably because he liked looking at her in his so much, and she didn’t seem to mind.

“I tried to tell her the same thing, but she’s right. There’s no one but her who could get close enough.”

“Peter won’t hold back just because she’s his sister. In fact, that’ll make him more likely to kill her.” Emmie took a deep breath. “To
try
to kill her. I have to remind myself he’s not invincible.”

Drew didn’t want to correct her. She’d probably spent a long time trying to change the face of every monster she thought was in the shadows away from Peter Breslin. She’d had to make him human in her head, or she’d never sleep. Never feel safe.

Only he wasn’t human now, was he? He was a monster in every sense of a word—a werewolf with an immunity to silver. Twisted and dark, an abomination of what his kind was supposed to be, with a taste for pain and flesh.

“Lenore has some powerful allies. Luchtaine will come if she calls. I’d always thought he was a myth, but Lenore is no liar and, if she’s seen him, then he’s real. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how she gets Peter to come for her, on her terms. She’s smart, fast, and strong. She’s been fighting him her whole life. She’ll be okay.”

Emmie sank down on the bed. “Will she? I know she
can
defeat him, I just don’t know that she
will
. Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s her brother. Even after all the horror, he’s the one who taught her how to use a bow and arrow. He’s the one who would sneak her food when their mother decided she didn’t deserve her meal. He’s her family.”

“No, you’re her family. Noah is her family. Peter is some jackass she happens to share genetic material with, and I’m sure she’d tell you the same thing.”

“I hope you’re right. I hate Peter. I wish he’d die in a ditch and rot, but I don’t want that on Lenore’s shoulders.”

“She’s a big girl. She took the contract, it wasn’t forced on her.” He took her hand. “I know you want to comfort her, to fix this for her. Let her do what she needs to do. Send her to battle with your love, not your fear, and be here for her when she returns.”

“
When
she returns,” Emmie repeated. “You’re right.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you later, and we’ll talk more about Noah?”

“Yeah.”

When Emmie left, he let himself bask in their bed for a moment or two longer, inhaling their scent and letting their mating bond shore up all of the dark holes inside of him. He needed to talk to Blake about DeVayne.

And how he was going to kill him.

To speak of the devil, his phone rang just as he reached for it to dial Blake. “Parker’s here with his
wife
.”

“Boardroom?”

“Yes.”

“On my way.”

Drew dressed with care, donning a clean shirt and suit. Yes, it was a meeting with his brothers, but it was all business now. He knew exactly how important presentation could be, even with family. He was never less than calm, controlled, and professional in these meetings. He needed them to understand that whatever the company had going on, whatever the pack… Royce DeVayne was still going to die.

There wasn’t a hair out of place and he knew he could grace the cover of any men’s magazine. Confident, he made his way down to the boardroom.

Parker, for once, actually looked repentant. Blake was immaculate, and War, well... he’d combed his hair and that’s all they were getting out of him for the moment.

“I think we all agree that Parker will need to maintain his sham marriage and Turn his bride. For her safety and ours.”

Drew cast his younger brother a glance. “For her safety, and ours.”

“Look, it’s not that she’s a bad catch—”

“You’ve already caused our uncle to make a sacrifice to clean up your mess. The least you can do is participate in the solution without being a shit,” Blake drawled.

Parker sighed. “I know it and I’m sorry. I was actually trying to do the right thing here—”

“Trying only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades, boy!” Warner growled. “I taught you that.”

Parker scowled. “You also taught me not to interrupt people while they’re talking. Can I please finish what I was saying?”

Warner smirked. “By all means.”

“She’s said that she might not want to stay married to me,” Parker said. “I mean, imagine that. Not wanting to be married to a Woolven.” He shrugged, as if he really couldn’t understand it.

“It’s your job to convince her.” Blake clacked his teeth together, mimicking biting. A bitten mate was a claimed mate. She wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“You didn’t bite Randi without permission,” Parker interjected.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Blake rolled his eyes.

“No,” Parker, Warner, and Drew said in unison.