Big Bad Billionaire (The Woolven Secret Book 1) (4 page)

Blake didn’t know why he liked that so much. Maybe because all the females of his acquaintance, she-wolf and human alike—hell, supe and natural alike—always gave him what he wanted.

It wasn’t the denial he enjoyed or sought out, it was that she wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t intimidated by him. She wasn’t trying to change anything about herself to please him or to fit some idea of what she thought he wanted. She spoke her mind.

On second thought, he decided as a silver-tipped arrow whizzed by his ear and burned the lobe, maybe her lack of intimidation wasn’t the best thing.

Chapter Four

“One would assume,” he drawled, “Since you told me to my face that you were out to ruin me, you’d have said the same about murder.”

Randi wanted to ruin him to be sure, and she’d fantasized about bodily harm, she wouldn’t lie. But when the crossbow in her hand exploded and the arrow shot toward him, she knew a momentary sense of fear.

Not fear that she’d be caught or punished, but fear
for him
.

She didn’t like it one bit.

Even from a distance, she could see his ear had been scalded. “What the hell was on the tip of that thing? Acid?” She looked down at her hands to make sure she hadn’t burned herself.

“Nice to see your concern for my well-being.” His tone sounded dry.

“I notice you didn’t answer my question.” She let the crossbow drop from her hands, and she ventured closer to him, inspecting his injury.

“And how should I? I don’t know what was on it. That’s a prototype of one of the projects for the Department of Defense. Where did you get it?”

“I found it in my room.”

His brow crinkled. “Really? That’s interesting. Someone took it from a locked, high-security lab on the other side of the compound and just… left it in your room?”

She could see where his mind had gone. “I didn’t—I couldn’t hack a top secret security system if I tried.” She bit her lip. “Okay, fine. That part’s a lie. I couldn’t hack it as
quickly
as I’d have needed to. I don’t know the layout of the place, and I couldn’t have gotten there and back in the time it took for you to come find me.”

“Then maybe I should search your room for any other goodies?”

“Feel free.” Shit, had she just invited him into her room? “Maybe you should have your ear looked at first. It seems to be bleeding.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Ms. Rutger, I’d rather inspect your room. With all of our safeguards and so many different methods of security in place, no one should’ve been in your room without my expressed permission. It wouldn’t do for anything to happen to you while you’re under my care.”

The way he said the last, it struck a note of fear in her, almost like he’d issued a threat. But the expression on his face made her think it wasn’t she who needed to be afraid, but whoever else had dared defy him.

The fact that he wasn’t even fazed by an arrow which might have killed him—she couldn’t deny her reaction.

So hot.

He cocked his head and looked at her, almost as if he could hear her thoughts.

“What?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. Of course he couldn’t hear what she was thinking. If she had her way, she wouldn’t hear it either. She knew better than to think of him that way. Nothing good could come from that.

Come.

Damn it.

Inside the room she’d been given, he seemed bigger, like he filled up all the space and left no room for her or anything else. His presence was this solid weight, an ocean pressing down on her.

He wandered about, looking under the bed, in the closet, and in the nightstand. From the last, he pulled out a canister of what looked to be a different sort of pepper spray.

“Interesting. It’s the new gel instead of liquid variety. The delivery mechanism is silver nitrate. You plan on meeting any muggers among the hallowed halls of Aphelion?”

Randi shook her head. “That’s not mine.” She’d never seen it before.

“Another goody. Interesting.”

“Is there something special about silver nitrate?” she asked him.

He turned his head slowly and, for a moment, she thought she saw something else in his eyes. Something animal. But it had to be her imagination. She’d run off to a secluded estate with a mad billionaire. Of course she’d be imagining things. “Why do you ask?”

She bit her lip, unsure if she’d be revealing too much if she answered. How much had her father confided in Woolven before he’d died?

“Because of the project?” he continued.

Of course he knew. He knew everything. She nodded. “I know what he worked on required a lot of it. I’m not sure how silver is helpful in weapons productions. Silver bullets aren’t even as accurate, since they don’t travel as far as lead.”

“Interesting that you’d bring that up.” His scrutiny changed to something harder, darker, but she bore up under the pressure, refusing to break or back down. “Fluorescent silver nanoparticles can cause certain cells to grow faster and others to stop growing. It’s anti-microbial, which is a positive for some applications. For others, if the particles are adapted a certain way, it causes more mayhem to the body systems.”

“I read that study. I thought my father was working on something that would help heal wounds on the battlefield. I thought he was saving people.” She looked away from him, embarrassed at her naiveté, at all the things he made her feel, that this moment wrought in her. It was a sour brew of hope, desire, shame, and… it was all just too much.

“He was. You’ll understand everything soon enough.”

She growled and her fingers curled into fists. “I hate that. I hate it so much. You’re so smug and sure that as soon as some great thing is revealed, I’ll fall in line like everything else in your world. Why wait? What’s this great truth? Back up your hypothesis with results.” She needed to know, needed him to spell it out for her.

“It’s not time yet.”

“Who says?” She put her hands on her hips. “Why do you get to decide?”

“Contrary to what you believe, it’s in
your
best interest.”

“Why would you ever do anything in my best interest? To get me to lower my guard? To make me trust you so that you can break me?”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

She hated knowing it, hated being right, and most of all, she hated feeling this longing to trust him, this attraction in spite of that knowledge. “I hate you so much it burns.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud. She thought it plenty, but it was childish. What did he care if she hated him? He’d probably laugh about her confession later while taking candy from babies and stomping on kittens.

But, for a second, she doubted everything. A flash of something on his face…but she brushed it off just like she had earlier. She was seeing things that weren’t there, building castles out of clouds. Randi didn’t want him to be a bad man because she thought he was hot. Her brain tried to accommodate her by projecting similar motivations onto him.

She wished her mind would turn off her attraction rather than writing stories about him in her head.

He straightened. “I’m going to have a security team sweep your room. In the meantime, why don’t you and your burning hate take a walk with me around the grounds? It’ll keep us warm.”

She wanted to say no, but she knew it wasn’t really a request.

He presented his arm again.

“What did I tell you about that?” She curled her nose.

“Lack of good manners on your part doesn’t negate them on mine.”

She clenched her teeth but still didn’t take his arm. Randi knew better than to touch him. Down that path lay the dark side, and she wanted none of it.

Correction: She wanted all of it, but it was bad, bad, bad, wrong. So she’d keep her hands to herself, and he could do the same.

“I’m going to show you an emergency exit from this wing. It’ll lead you to the gardens and the maze. Although, you should stay out of the maze.”

“You have secret passages and a maze? And you really expect me to stay out of them?” Randi was incredulous.

“I think once I tell you the history of the maze, you’ll be more than pleased to stay out of it.”

“Do tell, Mr. Woolven.” She tried to ignore the flirtatious tone her voice had taken on and hoped he would, too.

Like any good manor house, the secret passages were opened by various, obscured levers. He tugged on a light fixture at the end of the hall and a display case slipped to the side silently, revealing a winding staircase.

To her disappointment, she discovered the passage wasn’t dark, musty, or at all filled with cobwebs. Instead, the hallway looked bright, clean, and almost institutional. “That’s disappointing.”

“What did you expect?
Wuthering Heights
?”

Kind of.
She glanced off to the side without answering.

When they finally emerged outside, Randi was struck by the beauty of the place. Well-manicured lawn, groomed greenery, fountains… quick access to a garage. “I assume the getaway vehicles are in there?”

“You assume correctly, as well as a small armory. Just in case.”

“You’re probably insane.” She exhaled.

“I prefer safety-minded or paranoid. It all depends on your perspective.” He tossed back with a shrug.

“So are you going to tell me about this maze or what?” She needed to change the subject and might as well get a better handle on what she dealt with. He’d told her once she’d heard the story she’d want to stay out of the maze. Well, the proclamation just dared her to have a peek.

“Ah, the maze.” He led her closer.

As they neared, she smelled something sweet, exotic. Something she wanted more of. “Oh, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” He cocked his head to the side.

“You can’t smell it?” Randi couldn’t get enough.

Blake Woolven suddenly looked way too pleased for it to be good for anyone involved.

“I think I’m ready to go back inside,” she murmured. Maybe she wasn’t feeling daring after all.

“I thought you wanted to hear the story of the maze and the Woolven brides?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, suddenly aware of the moonlight shining down on them, all glitter and starshine. His presence, his allure, it was like it had been switched to hyper mode. She just knew she was going to make an ass of herself.

She wet her suddenly dry lips with her tongue, unwillingly imagining what it would be like if he kissed her. If this was where he brought his women, how many of them did he take into the maze? Did he fuck them there? Push them up against some old statuary and—

“I think you do. The tradition comes from the old country, a place of dark stories and even darker truths. At the heart of the maze grows a flower. A strange, savage strain of carnivorous monkshood…” His eyes seemed to glitter.

“Wolfsbane,” she mumbled.

“Yes, wolfsbane.” He sounded pleased.

“Also known as women’s bane.”

“Indeed. Do you know why?”

“No.” She shook her head slowly, feeling as if she’d fallen under some kind of trance or spell.

“Neither do I.” He grinned, and his gaze focused on her mouth.

Oh hell, he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. She couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t protest. She could do nothing but stand there and watch the cataclysm of his mouth as it descended.

If she thought brushing against his knee caused sparks to fly, it was nothing compared to his kiss. Nerve endings she didn’t know existed flared to life, every single sensation receptor set to pleasure.

His mouth was hard, demanding, hungry—and she melted, crashed into him while he held her steady. He belonged here, outside under the moonlight, wild. He was a force of nature barely leashed by a suit.

And, oh Christ, his hands. They moved over her, up her back, down over her ample hips.

Vague thoughts were born—about how he only did this to get past her defenses, how he didn’t want her. He wanted to break her. Or he wanted to prove he could have her. He had tiny, dainty, elegant, and perky-breasted Marchessa de la Luna, why would he want Randi? She was large, unwieldy, awkward, and a hell-bitch on wheels. Or at least that’s what she’d been going for before he’d kissed her.

Only her thoughts didn’t get any traction because she could feel the evidence of his arousal grinding up against her. Dear sweet saints, no wonder he was a playboy. No one woman alive could take all of that regularly and ever walk again.

She’d never admit her thoughts out loud upon pain of death. He didn’t need any more strokes to his ego.

But she definitely wanted to stroke—a cold, splash of water washed over her. No, she could never, ever be with him like that. He was a murderer. She would have her revenge.

Maybe this was the way to get it. He wanted her. She could use his desire against him.

Randi broke away from him, pushed him hard. She’d meant to demand answers, ask what the hell was wrong with him, ask him what he was thinking to pull such a stunt, but she could only gasp for breath.

She didn’t want to look at him. He’d see how he affected her. He’d see how much she wanted him and, just like she’d planned to use his need against him, he’d use hers as a weapon. She was sure he’d prove the more experienced fighter when it came to that kind of warfare.

Probably
all
kinds of warfare.

But something drew her eyes up anyway, some polarity, and that was when she saw it. Plain as day, in the silver streak of moonlight that bathed them.

His eyes had gone amber, much like Warner’s, but brighter somehow. So bright, they were
wrong
.