The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby (The Woolven Secret Book 2) (5 page)

“My witch is coming to cut his hair.”

Noah shot him a dirty look. “I don’t like the scissors.”

“They’re not silver,” Drew assured him.

Noah arched his brow and, for a moment, looked so much like Drew. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Emmie backed away from his embrace and held out her hands as if that could guarantee some distance between them—a line he couldn’t cross.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t get to come here and
terrify
me and then act like nothing’s wrong.”

“Emmie, I thought Noah was in danger.”

H
e couldn’t believe
his sweet, innocent Emmie had ever been
married
to Peter Breslin. Breslin was universally hated among supes. He was a hunter who killed because he hated what was different than he was. He believed in extermination, genocide. He led a faction of dangerous hunters who believed the same way.

And during the Great Council in Rome, when he’d tried to kill Marchessa Rommulus, she’d bitten him. Changed him. Now, he was one of them, and he’d inherited her affliction—an immunity to silver that made him more dangerous.

It made sense why Emmie was afraid. Breslin was a monster who killed women and children for pleasure before he’d been Turned.

Damn it, he’d just… He realized he was almost naked. His slacks hung off of him precariously, the fine linen shredded. His shirt—well, he had none to speak of.

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t move to Aphelion, but you’re going to make that my only choice, aren’t you?”

“I just want to protect you.”

“Peter used to say that.”

If he’d been a lesser wolf, that might’ve made him flinch. He was relieved when Westwood appeared, looking like her normal grandmotherly self, a bag of goodies and hopefully scissors in hand.

She didn’t bother with Drew, but focused on Emmie. “So you’re the goddess from Santorini.”

Emmie blushed. “I…I met Drew in Santorini.”

“All Andrew did when he returned was talk about you. Goddess from the sea, I think it was?” Westwood gave her a warm smile.

“More like chicken of the sea, but thank you.”

Westwood eyed her for a long moment. “I’m Mrs. Westwood, but you may call me Eleanor.”

“Thank you, Eleanor. Please, call me Emmie.”

“Would that be short for Emmaline?”

She cringed. “Esmerelda, actually. But only my ex-husband calls me that.”

“I understand.” Westwood smiled. “I had one of those once when I was a young witch.
Once
.”

Drew shuddered and wondered where the warlock lay moldering. His bones were probably toothpicks for some interdimensional shit demon.

She turned her attention to Noah. “This young man needs a haircut?” Westwood waited for Emmie’s approval.

“He’s terribly afraid of scissors.” Emmie bit her lip.

Westwood waved her hand with a dismissive motion. “Bah. That’s only because most of them look like silver. It’s a natural response for him. May I try?”

“If he bites you, I’d really rather you not turn him into a toad or something.”

Westwood arched a brow, but laughed. “No, child. I wouldn’t do that.” Her kindly grandmotherly smile bloomed. “But only because I never mastered the spell to turn them back.” She shook her head. “Toads are harder than you’d think.”

Drew found himself remembering afternoons spent with the woman while she instructed him in the finer arts of negotiation, tactics, and politics over tea and her homemade butter cookies. His chest puffed with pride, thinking his son was going to have the same.

Emmie didn’t seem to get that it was a joke. Mostly. She’d pursed her lips together. “Mrs. Westwood raised me and my brothers. Never turned any of us into toads. Parker she turned into a cat once, but only because he wouldn’t stay out of her laboratory.”

Lenore approached Westwood, Noah’s hand tucked securely in hers. “What do you say, little man? How about a haircut?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Westwood said, pulling a shiny ball out of the ether. It appeared to be full of galaxies, with stars exploding to life, and dying, little glittery bubbles popped before their time. Noah was instantly entranced, just as Drew had been at that age. Just as any child would be. Noah reached for it.

“Not just yet, dearie. You can have it after you let me cut your hair.”

Noah scowled and his nose twitched.

“That’s not nice to growl.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were going to.”

This time, he did growl. Westwood fixed him with a hard stare and he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re a good boy. Here, sit still.” Noah floated up and the ball stayed at his eye level. “Just watch this.” She produced a pair of black matte scissors and showed them to him. “See? No silver.”

“Okay…”

Emmie seemed to be holding her breath, and Drew was drawn to comfort her. “It’ll be fine. She knows what she’s doing.”

“What do you think?” Westwood asked him, and with her magic began to show him all the different things she could do with his hair. When she got to a faux hawk, his eyes lit up.

“That one!”

Westwood looked to Emmie. “Is this okay?”

Emmie nodded, her fingers digging into Drew’s arm. Westwood made the first snip, and Noah stayed intent on the ball. She could’ve done it with magic, but Drew knew why she did it by hand. She wanted to teach him not to be afraid.

“It’s fine, Emmie.”

Her response was to grip him tighter, but he didn’t mind. It was his honor and his pleasure to be her strength and her support.

Mrs. Westwood finished the boy’s hair, and it was infinitely better than the previous bowl cut.

“Aren’t you a handsome boy?” Emmie said smiling.

“I like it!” he proclaimed.

“How about we go have some butter cookies and tea at Aphelion?” Westwood invited.

Drew coughed. “I don’t think Blake would like having a hunter at Aphelion.”

“She’s the boy’s aunt, isn’t she? I need to speak with her in my laboratory anyway. We have business. It will be fine.” Westwood smiled. “And if she intends harm to any who live there, her insides will boil until they drip out of her ears.” Her tone was congenial.

Noah’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

Westwood nodded.

“Cool! But my Aunt Lennie is a good hunter. Just like you’re a good witch.”

Mrs. Westwood smiled.

“I…” Emmie trailed off.

“You need to pack, my dear. Bad things are coming. The safest place is with Drew. No one will make you stay anywhere you don’t want to be. Aphelion isn’t a prison. It’s a sanctuary.”

Emmie narrowed her eyes. “I will decide that. On my own, without any interference from you or anyone else, regardless of your intentions.”

Westwood approached her carefully. “Just because it wasn’t your idea doesn’t make it invalid.”

Emmie seemed to take her words to heart. “I know that, but you don’t know anything about me or what my life was like.”

“No, dear. I don’t. But I do know your life isn’t like that anymore, and you have someone else to think about.”

Drew put himself between Westwood and Emmie. “Thanks for coming.”

Westwood laughed. “Okay, I’m going. Can Noah come over and play?”

“What do you say, Emmie? Can we go?” Drew teased her.

She pursed her lips. “Okay, fine.”

“Are you a wicked witch?” Noah asked.

“Noah!” Emmie admonished.

But instead of being offended, Westwood said, “Yes, I am. Would you like to ride on my broom?”

“You have a broom?” Noah was terribly excited.

“Not usually, it’s kind of a joke. But we can fly on one if you’d like.” A broom appeared in her hand.

“Oh, that’s too cool! I need one of those!” Lenore exclaimed nodding at the broom.

Westwood grinned and one appeared in Lenore’s hand. They were in the sky before Emmie could object.

“That witch will treat him like her own grandson. She won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Was it true what she said?”

“About what?” Not that he ever suspected Westwood lied about anything. She didn’t have to.

“About Lenore’s insides liquefying if she meant harm to anyone inside Aphelion?”

“Very. We had a security breach not too long ago, and Blake’s mate was almost killed.”

“What happened?”

“We killed him.”

Emmie shuddered. “You speak of death and violence so easily.”

“It’s part of my world—your world.”

“I didn’t want that for him.” She sighed.

“It will come for him, whether you want it or not. Wouldn’t you rather he be able to make his choice rationally and not be controlled by an instinct that doesn’t understand the human world?”

“I’m so afraid, Drew. And I’m so tired of being afraid.”

“I can’t promise you’ll never be afraid again. I wish I could. But that’s not how it works. Emmie, look at me.” He wanted to reach out and touch her, lift her chin so she looked into his eyes, but he waited for her to do it on her own.

She looked up at him, blue eyes filled with a storm of emotions. He could see pain there, fear, but he thought he caught a glimpse of hope, too.

Goddess, but she was beautiful.

“I would do anything to protect you and Noah. So would my entire family. Any one of my brothers, my uncle—all of us would lay down our lives for yours or Noah’s. It’s how a pack works.”

“I’m just magically part of the pack?”

“I wouldn’t call it magic.” He laughed. “You’re my son’s mother. And, as of this moment, he’s the Woolven heir.”

“Your son’s mother.” She nodded slowly. “Is that all you want from me?” Emmie searched his face. “I’m not… Christ, this is awkward. I’m not asking for anything. I know Santorini was a summer fling. I want to know what you expect of me.”

“I expect you to let me be your partner raising our son. I expect you to do what you’ve been doing—being a good mother. Putting him first. Protecting him. Loving him. That’s all I can expect from you.” He pulled her against him slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. “But what I
want
from you is a totally different matter.”

Her lips parted, and she wetted them, chest rising and falling as her heart raced. He could hear the rush of blood through her veins, the thudding of her heart. And her desire, the scent of it was like a sweet haze he could stay lost in forever.

“You don’t mean that. You’re a businessman. You’re using this to get me to do what you want with Noah.”

“Tell me, does this feel like anything besides what it is?” He pressed hard against her, his erection thick and obvious.

She braced her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve heard that, for some men, the thrill of getting what they want is sexual.”

“I’m not a man. I’m a werewolf.” He nosed at her neck. “I’m primal. Animal.” He nipped lightly at her ear and her delighted shiver thrilled him. “And I want you more than I did in Santorini.”

It took all of his self-control to pull away. “But I’m not going to take anything from you that you don’t want to give me.”

“This doesn’t happen to a woman like me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The hot young millionaire with the gentle heart. The art student…This isn’t real.”

“Billionaire, love. I’m a billionaire. And my heart isn’t gentle. It’s a furious thing that wants to taste the world. See everything, touch everything. It’s not gentle in its love, either. It’s all consuming and terrifying. But it’s been silent since Santorini, because I’m pretty sure I left it with you.”

“Do you know how old I am? I’m much too old for you.”

“I’m four times your age.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting to Aphelion for butter cookies?” She swallowed hard.

“If that’s what you want.”

“What do
you
want?” she blurted.

“I thought that was obvious.” His gaze fixed on her mouth as he thought about tasting her lips. “You.”

She tittered, obviously nervous. “No, you don’t.”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t tell you what you want, if you don’t try to tell me what I want. Unless there’s handcuffs and a bed involved and then you’ve got some leeway. Otherwise, it’s just as condescending and dismissive when you do it to me. I know what I want, Em. I know what I need. So does my wolf.”

He debated telling her she was the one, his mate. But she’d been through so much already. Part of him wanted to confess it, to tell her all the ways he’d be devoted to her and her happiness, but there was another part of him that said that was selfish. To give her time to process everything. Time to love him on her own terms—she was human. She didn’t understand things like mates.

“I’ll give you that. You’re right. But you have to understand my incredulity.”

“Why? Why do I have to understand that you think so lowly of yourself?”

She twisted away from him.

This time, he couldn’t keep from touching her, offering her physical comfort. Something gentler than his desire. His need. This was about her. He stroked his hand down her back in the tenderest of caresses.

“Breslin is a bastard, Em. You’re not with him anymore for a reason. You deserve better.”

Emmie turned into him, and he offered her the shelter of his arms. “I wish we were in Santorini again.”

“We can be. We could go this weekend. We could take Noah, or we could let him get to know Mrs. Westwood and the rest of my family for a few days.”

“Just like that? A snap of your fingers, and we can go to Greece?”

“Or you could go by yourself, if you wanted. I’ll keep Noah. When was the last time you did anything alone?”

“The last time I was in Santorini.” She sighed. “I couldn’t possibly leave him.” Emmie looked up at him, her fingers pressing hard into his biceps.

The moment between them was gravid with desire. She wanted him.

He wanted her.

But there was so much at stake.

Drew wanted to kiss her, carry her back into her little cottage and then replay all of his fantasies and hers out in her bedroom.

Or her couch.

Her kitchen island.

Her shower.

Her…

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“Oh, but we can. Mrs. Westwood isn’t expecting us back any time soon or she would’ve given us brooms too.” He leaned down and put his chin on the top of her head in a familiar motion. “If you say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“Yes to me, making love to you. No strings, if you don’t want them.”

“What if I did want them? Then what? Would you be so quick to take me to bed?”

“I’d be quick to put a ring on your finger and, if you accepted it, my bite at your throat.”

She froze, but didn’t pull away. “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m just a wolf who knows his mate. I wish I could tell you that I wouldn’t wait forever, but I would. I will. The best part about being a wolf is no games. We’re too honest about our needs. The wolf nature won’t let us be any other way.”