Big Bad Billionaire (The Woolven Secret Book 1) (15 page)

The stretching and reshaping of bone and muscle, the tearing of fascia—she was Changing.

“Right here, baby.” He held her to the curve of his shoulder. “Show me I’m yours.”

The pain became pleasure again as her body shifted and when her new teeth clamped down hard on his flesh and she felt the meat give way and her fangs penetrate him. He tightened his grip on her, his hands now claws that dug into back, holding her tighter—closer. A low keening echoed from his throat, a sound of pure, animal bliss.

Randi didn’t want to let go, she just wanted to hold him there in her jaws, her venom seeping into his veins, filling him with all that was her. This was intimate in a way she’d never experienced.

He moved them, shifted their bodies so that she sat astride his lap and his hard, thick cock pressed against her wet slit. She was still lost in the haze, this mating secondary to the ecstasy from marking him.

“Again,” he demanded.

Randi was more than happy to oblige. She withdrew and licked at the wound, tasting his salt and copper of his blood on her tongue. He thrust inside of her, drove himself home over and over again, hard and true.

She bit him again. As soon as her fangs pierced him, his hips jerked and his body spasmed as he spilled into her. Randi pulled back, needing to see his face. He reclined on the bed, almost like the felling of a great Redwood.

His eyes were closed, his mouth slack and she could see his heartbeat in his throat, the way it thundered and his body continued to convulse with the pleasure she’d delivered.

A sense of satisfaction washed over her, better than any aftermath or pillow talk. Blake Woolven was hers. He belonged to her wholly, utterly, completely.

Mine
.

Chapter Fifteen

The mark on Blake’s neck burned like all the fires of hell, but every time he touched it or even thought about it, his dick got hard. He wanted to take her again. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside of her and stay there until the sun burned out.

He watched her as she slept and looked for the beast beneath her skin. Blake needed to know that he hadn’t damaged her, that the Change hadn’t come too soon, before she’d made her peace. Otherwise, when he allowed her Change, she’d be a mindless predator.

Blake could only hope that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t imagine having awakened that part of her only to never let her run free. That be a fate worse than death. But he also knew she wouldn’t want to hurt anyone.

Unless they were deserving, of course. She was practical that way.

She smelled so good, still like chocolate and sex—all things essential. He’d heard stories of what this was like and realizing Randi was his mate was one thing. Now, being mated to her was quite another. He was torn between feeling the Alphaest of Alphas on the block, and being terrified something would happen to her. Of not meeting all of her needs.

It was a total mindfuck.

He pressed his fingers against her mark, loving the sharp twinge of pain at the touch. It reminded him this was real, she’d marked him, too.

It grounded him, reminded him that his responsibilities weren’t a weight on his shoulders, but a gift. It was a burden he was proud to carry.

And Goddess help any that dared threaten what belonged to him.

He was fierce again in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a pup. A fire rekindled inside of him, one that told him he was the wolf who could devour the world. It was all his for the taking.

Blake leaned down and brushed his lips against Randi’s cheek. He wanted to let her sleep, but he wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking she needed to be protected from facts or the way her new world worked.

“I’m leaving, Red.”

She turned and stretched, more feline than lupine, and her eyes fluttered open. “I wish I could go.”

“I know. I wish you could, too.” He kissed her lips. “But I need you here. Get us ready to leave at a moment’s notice, but order room service. If the world doesn’t explode, I’ll take you shopping. We’re in Italy, after all.”

She flashed him a smile that did crazy things to his guts. “Oh, I forgot about the good stuff that comes with having a billionaire boyfriend.”

“Mate,” he corrected. “And you’ll have a society wedding whether you want one or not. Woolven Industries’ bottom line will appreciate it.”

“I don’t know why you thought I would argue.” She flashed that smile again. “Go show them they’re all prey, and that vengeance is coming.”

“As my mate commands.” He nipped at her neck.

“You keep doing that, you’re not making the meeting. You’ll be here, doing all the other things I command.”

He laughed at the genuine joy that surged at her words. “I’ll see you soon.”

She rolled over and pulled the cover up over her head. “This transforming thing is exhausting.”

“Pack first. Nap later.” He kissed her again, he couldn’t seem to stop. Not that he really wanted to.

“Fine,” she dragged herself out of bed. “Slave driver.”

“Pot and kettle, my dear.” He winked at her. “Drew is next door if you need anything.”

Blake met Warner outside.

“Is it done?” Warner asked, looking him up and down.

“It’s done and then some.”

“Good.” He nodded. “You ready for this?”

“Are we ever really ready to start a war?” Blake asked.

“They started it. We’re finishing it.”

They took a cab to the hotel and were greeted at the door. They were guided to a ballroom.

Blake could feel Warner’s uneasiness acutely as his own—there was power here. All the Alphas from the six recognized werewolf nations had gathered for the Great Council.

An Alpha’s natural instinct was to crush and destroy any other Alpha they came into contact with. It was quite something when they could come together for the betterment of their people, their race, and their position of power within the supe community.

But to Blake, it felt like being pricked with a thousand needles. He could only imagine what it was like for the other Alphas, those who were older, stronger—some more wolf than man.

To counteract their baser instincts, three witches sat in the center of where the tables were gathered silently channeling the power to other avenues to keep the room from exploding.

He saw Marchessa and nodded to her as she entered with Antony Rommulus and his Beta, Armand. Only, the power that Armand radiated, he wouldn’t be a Beta for long.

Blake noticed that Vittorio de la Luna and his Beta, Stefan de la Luna were already seated. He had to fight to keep his lips from curling back over his fangs and snarling at the bastard.

He nodded to William DeVaughn, who came alone. He hoped the wolf would be on their side. Parker was in Vegas wooing his daughter at this very moment.

Grigori Remus, made a flamboyant entrance, flanked on all sides by what seemed to be a pack of Betas. It made Blake’s head hurt just thinking about it. He wondered what Remus was going for with the display. Power? They all knew he and Rommulus were the oldest—at least among the recognized nations. He shuddered to think at the great beasts that still roamed the dark and wild places.

A stench of rot and disease hit him hard when Luc Ardennes entered. He smelled like something unclean, unnatural. Maybe it was because he who brought the hunter Peter Breslin with him.

It was DeVaughn’s turn in the hot seat, he was leading the Council. He spoke first. “I hope you have a good reason for bringing a hunter among us, Ardennes. In fact,” he said in a monotone voice. “You should give us that reason before we kill you both.”

“He’s been Turned. By her.” He pointed at Marchessa.

Blake knew better than to turn and look at Marchessa. She hadn’t told him about this part of the equation.

“That’s still not a good reason to bring our sworn enemy into these secret proceedings,” Grigori said, bored.

“I want you to see what she did before you take my pack from me. Before you murder me,” Luc Ardennes snarled.

Murder? Overdramatic, much?
“Challenge to single combat is not murder,” Blake said drily.

“Isn’t it? When it’s from Rommulus?” Luc turned his dead-eyed stare on Blake.

“You didn’t have a problem with it fifty years ago when Remus challenged the old DeVaughn,” Blake reminded him. “So it’s murder only when it suits you.”

“It’s obvious you’ve already decided where your loyalties lie,” Luc snarled.

He was thoroughly disgusted by the other wolf. “It’s obvious that I think you’re an honorless cur with no love for his own kind. It’s obvious I think you’re a murderer. It’s obvious that I think a challenge to single combat is too good for you. It’s obvious that for your crimes against me, against mine, and against the six great nations, you should be beheaded and burned to ash. That’s what’s obvious, Ardennes.”

“Way to sugar coat it,” Grigori said.

Blake shrugged. Why should he sugar coat it? The part he liked best about being a wolf was being able to be honest. It was the human part of them that made them liars.

DeVaughn sighed. “Business we’re here to discuss. It’s been brought to our attention that Luc Ardennes is in business with a hunter. If you’ll look at your packets, the financials are all there.”

Blake looked down at the sheaf of papers in front of him and thumbed through them slowly.

Luc growled. “This is a witch hunt.”

The witches in the middle flipped him off.

“You will be heard, Ardennes. When it is your turn. Don’t force me to have the witches muzzle you. They’re already irritable.” DeVaughn directed.

With a rustling of paper, Grigori spoke again. “So he’s in business with Breslin. What does this mean for us? Can’t we do business with who we choose?”

Blake would admit that he wouldn’t care much at all for having the Council interfere in his business affairs. Of course, he’d never be so stupid as to go into business with a hunter.

Or so nihilistic.

“Always the devil’s advocate, Grigori. No, we can’t do business with who we choose if it endangers the nations. You know that.” DeVaughn snorted.

“One could argue that Turning a hunter might endanger the nations,” Grigori cast Marchessa a damning glance.

“One might. And if one does, one will deal with me,” Antony Rommulus said calmly.

“One will deal with the perpetrator. If that includes you, we’ll do as we must,” DeVaughn replied.

“I vote that Luc Ardennes has long abused his status as Alpha. He’s not fit to lead the Ardennes pack and challenge him to single combat for that right.” Antony’s chest puffed.

DeVaughn nodded, seemingly bored with the exchange. “Should you win, who do you choose to lead them?”

“My son. Armand Ardennes Rommulus.”

“Does anyone object to the challenge?” DeVaughn asked.

“I do,” Grigori said and seemed to surprise everyone.

Antony shot him a glare that could melt steel.

“Why?” Blake asked.

Vittorio de la Luna had been suspiciously silent.

“Because it’s not our place to infringe on the freedoms of the packs. If he chooses to run his pack into the ground, it’s his place.” The other wolf shrugged. “Our own ethos says one of his own must rise and take his power from him.”

“Then
I
challenge him,” Armand said, stone-faced.

“You are Rommulus.” Stefan dismissed him.

“I am both.” His voice echoed with power that was more than that of the Alpha. “My mother was Ardennes. By her lineage, I challenge you, Luc Ardennes. For right of the Ardennes Alpha.”

“Then before we go any further, let us see to this. As long as there is a challenger, a nation may have no voice in the Council,” Blake was quick to highlight the law. If Armand won, it would quickly align things in their favor.

Burly guards pulled heavy beams down over the doors and the witches began chanting anew. They hovered and then rose above the group.

Luc and Armand entered the space the witches once occupied.

Armand transformed, but Luc did not. They believed their wolf form was a curse, and from the madness that plagued the line, Blake wondered if maybe there was some truth to that.

Instead, of transforming, he drew long, wicked silver blades.

Luc swung first.

Armand blocked the silver blade with his claw, snapping it in half, but the other blade pierced his side and with his cry of pain, and Blake realized that Armand was like Marchessa, infected with the silver. He’d been hiding it under some kind of glamour that was immune to the witches’ magic—or stronger. He had long, silver claws, silver teeth, but his pelt was midnight and shadow. There was something dark hanging over him, more than just what had happened to him. Perhaps it was the Ardennes in his blood.

A collective gasp sounded in the room and he used the distraction to gut the man with his other claws, the silvery blades tearing up through to his throat. He dropped the smoking corpse and met each pair of eyes around the tables in turn before speaking. “I am Armand Rommulus Ardennes. I am the Ardennes Alpha. Do any challenge my claim?”

Blake nodded his approval.

“No challengers.” DeVaughn nodded. “Alpha Ardennes, take your seat at the Council.”

The glamour slipped back into place and he wore his human skin.

And Peter Breslin stood, abandoned and forsaken amongst his enemies.

Blake wondered if he’d be able to show the same fearlessness had been in Breslin’s position. “And what about me?” Peter spoke to the group, the wound on his neck just an angry red imprint.

“What is your complaint?” DeVaughn.

“I’ve been Turned against my will. I’m immune to silver. Believe me, I tried to end it all.”

“Ending it all. How dramatic for you,” Marchessa drawled and rolled her eyes.

“I know this is your second Council Marchessa, but we don’t mock those who come to us for help,” Grigori corrected her.

“Why not? How many of our kind has he killed?”

Blake found he agreed with her.

“Now, he
is
our kind thanks to you. So as our kind, isn’t he entitled to all the rights and benefits under the law? If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have made him.”

“You can’t argue with that,” Vittorio said.

“Would you like to see how she made me?” Peter held up the phone.

“May I speak?” Marchessa looked at DeVaughn. Blake could tell she was holding back.

“Yes. You have a right to defend yourself.”

“Please be aware that when he made this video, I was under extreme duress. He’d kidnapped me from the streets of Rome, tied me up, and was going to kill me.”

“So noted into record,” DeVaughn said.