Gone With the Wolf (16 page)

“Emelia—” He came toward her, but she threw up her arms, and backed away.

“I won’t let you ignore the fact that we don’t fit together,” she said. “I think this was a mistake.”

His jaw clamped shut and his nostrils flared.

Cringing, Emelia averted her eyes. Why’d she just say that? She didn’t mean it, not really. Damn it, now she couldn’t look at him. “I gotta get out of here,” she said, and stormed out the door.

…

What the hell just happened?

Drake stood motionless, his entire body pulsing with heated waves of anger. Emelia left. She just
left.
How could she walk out on him over a bar? A bar that was destined to fail, no less?

He charged into the street, but it was too late. Emelia was gone.
How’d she disappear so fast?
Retreating back into Cosmo’s, Drake fumed, paced, walked from one side of the bar to the other as if it would do him good to stretch his legs.

Eyeing a bottle of scotch on the top tier, Drake scrubbed his hands through his hair, pulled down the bottle, and poured a stiff drink.

Damn it, he could still smell Emelia on his skin. He could still taste her, and feel her love filling him. Since they’d bonded, he could feel her like no other. It was like she was a part of him, no less important than an arm, a leg, or a chamber of his heart.

He loved her. She loved him. They were bonded for life. Then what the devil was the problem? How was offering Emelia a successful business wrong?

He shot the drink back, feeling worse than before. The scotch warmed his throat and buzzed down to his stomach, but the rage rattling his bones remained. He wanted to let the fire inside him erupt, chase Emelia down, clutch her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood.

“Like that would work, jackass!” He squeezed the glass and slammed it down so hard that it shattered. “She’s not going to listen to reason.”

He went palms-down over the bar and lowered his head. His jaw ached from clenching and his body shook from the force of his rage.

Emelia didn’t get it. Drake had survived as long as he had because he was smart. Because he made wise decisions. Because he knew when to quit a business or invest in one. He rubbed his temples, pinching his thumb and forefinger together when piercing pain shot through his head like a flaming arrow.

Emelia hadn’t asked for much, but what she did ask for was insane. It went against every bone in Drake’s body. It went against three hundred years of training and education. Keeping the Knight Owl and investing more money and time into it was a waste. It was absurd.

For the first time in Drake’s life, he didn’t know how to fix the damn problem.

Women
, he scoffed, pulling back his shoulders. Can’t live with them, can’t ship them off to a deserted island.

As he walked out the door to Cosmo’s, he didn’t look to see which direction Emelia might’ve gone. He got in his car and put the radio on full blast.

He couldn’t do it. He
wouldn’t
do it.

He would not invest in a business venture that would never go anywhere. He would not base his decisions on what he wanted to do over what he should do. He couldn’t only think of himself and what he wanted. Now that he’d become a true Alpha, he’d lost that luxury.

With a sigh and the burden of his pack on his shoulders, Drake shoved the Roadster into gear and turned toward home.

Chapter Twenty

Emelia squirmed against the hand covering her mouth. The moment she’d stepped out of Cosmo’s someone had grabbed her, dragging her into the alley next to the building. Her feet kicked and skidded as she fought against the man’s abnormally strong hold.

This wasn’t just any attacker—not that psychos had a telltale way they covered mouths and dragged bodies behind Dumpsters.

No, this guy smelled like wet hair and nasty dog slobber.
Wolf
, she corrected. Whoever it was had shifted recently.

“You’re going to be silent,” Silas said from behind her. “Or you’re going to be dead, got me?”

She nodded, trying to control her breathing. She needed to keep her head clear, which meant she couldn’t panic. Could. Not. Panic.

As Silas stuck the barrel of a weapon into Emelia’s back, she froze. She didn’t know a lick about guns, but common sense told her that the barrel of a gun should’ve been round. Whatever Silas had against her back was square.

Taser.

As the realization struck, Silas fired. Hard volts of electricity shot into Emelia’s body. She fell to the concrete, paralyzed.

…

Drake hadn’t talked to Emelia in three days. He’d explode if things kept going like this. He could feel Emelia, and sense her frustration and fear, but he couldn’t be with her. She wouldn’t answer his calls and she hadn’t shown up for work Monday or Tuesday. As his Luminary, she was protected under pack law, but if she wouldn’t answer the damn phone, how was he supposed to know where to send the security team? He’d sent them to her apartment after the fight at Cosmo’s, but they’d reported back that she wasn’t home.

His brother wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack Emelia now. Not after he and Emelia had bonded. Silas might’ve been desperate enough to attack Emelia before, when she was alone and didn’t have the protection of their pack, but now…he wouldn’t do the one thing that would make him pack enemy numero uno.

The deal was done. Drake had become Alpha.

There was nothing Silas could do other than retreat and accept his fate.

Emelia was fine. In all likelihood she was irritated and pissed off, but safe.

The moon would be full tonight. Emelia would shift into a werewolf for the first time and would have to be taught how to handle her anger, how to channel it into the hunt, and how to shift back without experiencing any pain.

He’d sent Emelia an e-mail telling her about his cabin in neighboring Wenatchee Forest. His pack was ready to take her in with open arms. In fact, there was a caravan meeting at the ferry terminal this afternoon headed for the wilderness. They’d travel together, shift together, then return together when the full moon waned. They’d take good care of her…not like he could, but still.

Drake mulled over the thought of crashing the trip, but what good would that do? Emelia had made her decision clear.

They didn’t fit.
Her words still pierced him, days later.

The hollow ache in Drake’s middle wouldn’t ease, no matter how many Johnnie Walkers he downed. Two hard knocks on his office door startled him, but he didn’t move from his chair.

“Come in,” he said.

Trixie strode through the door and set a glossy coffee mug on Drake’s desk. “Ms. Hudson didn’t show up for work today either, Mr. Wilder. Would you like me to pull another temp into her position?”

Drake sipped his coffee. It tasted strange. Too bold. “I think that’d be best. No temp this time, though. Pull someone from another department.”

“Will do.” Trixie nodded, then nervously twirled a strand of russet-brown hair around her finger. “Sir, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Shoot,” Drake said, not really hearing her.

“We’re missing some acquisitions reports from May of this year. I’ve searched for weeks and can’t come up with anything. I had them on my desk when I began to train Ms. Hudson, but when I went looking for them a few days later, they were missing.”

The reports weren’t the only thing missing.

“Sir, they seem to have disappeared,” she continued. “Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“Strange,” he agreed, then took another drink of the coffee that still didn’t taste right. “Trixie, would you throw this out and bring me my usual?”

He pushed the cup across his desk and continued to stare out the window, completely lost in thoughts of Emelia and the Knight Owl.

“That
is
your usual, sir,” Trixie said. “There are only two pots of coffee that brew each day: regular and decaf. I didn’t grab the wrong one. Maybe you’ve gotten used to how Emelia’s been making it for you.”

By the time Drake registered Trixie’s words, she’d already made her way back into the hall. The door clicked shut quietly, leaving Drake alone with his thoughts.

Trixie was right.

Drake had gotten used to the way Emelia made his coffee, but it went deeper than that. He’d gotten used to the way she molded against him when he held her, the way she smiled playfully, lifting the weight off his shoulders. He’d gotten used to the way she brought laughter into his life. She didn’t live on the straight and narrow, and she didn’t make sense all the time. But he’d been out of balance before he met her. He’d been living a dull, boring life—one that was not really worth living to begin with.

Damn it.

He’d been an ass to buy her a new place. He’d been bullheaded, trying to force her into a certain conventional mold. It wasn’t that Emelia didn’t fit him, Drake realized. She simply didn’t fit the mold he’d tried to place her in.

He loved her just the way she was.

Something heavy shifted in Drake’s chest, feeling like a thunderous boom from a firework in an empty night sky. Emelia was his match in every way, and he hated that he made her doubt it.

He knew what he had to do.

Snatching a pen and paper from the top drawer of his desk, Drake scribbled a note that he should’ve written weeks ago, when he first learned that Emelia worked for him. He ripped the paper from its bed, folded it, and shoved it into his pocket. He made a quick call to Raul, who was out and about on business, then darted to the underground parking and slipped into his Roadster. His car seemed to drive itself to the Knight Owl, as if it too wanted to return to Emelia.

Once he pulled in front of the Knight Owl, Drake knew something wasn’t right.

It was 9:00 a.m., and the bar should’ve been closed. Drake had only come here on a hunch; if Emelia wasn’t home, maybe she’d been staying in her office. Emelia’s car was parked out front, and an
Open
sign faced the front window. Every nerve in Drake’s body sizzled at the sight. He growled, chewing on the feeling that the sign was for him.

Emelia wasn’t alone in there.

Raging from muscle to bone, Drake charged around the car and burst through the door. A deafening howl ruptured from his chest when he caught Emelia’s scared gaze. She’d been gagged and bound to a chair that sat on the stage in the corner. Her blue eyes screamed fear, clutching Drake’s heart in an icy grip.

“Emelia!” he bolted into the room.

Movement to his right.

He crouched, knee to hardwood, as a burly gray wolf leaped through the air, aiming to take off Drake’s head. Drake hit the wolf in the breastbone with his shoulder, and as it continued its arc over Drake’s head, he stood quickly, tossing the snarling wolf onto the floor in a heap of writhing fur.

Another wolf charged at Drake from behind him. Drake waited, waited, waited for the perfect moment, then spun hard and fast, clocking the wolf in the snout with the lethally sharp ridge of his elbow.

This was too easy. He didn’t even need to shift to knock them down and out. But where was Silas? He had to have a hand in this.

“Hello, brother,” Silas said as he emerged from around the wall separating the bar from the lounge. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Let her go, Silas.” Drake fumed, barely able to control his breathing. “I’m only going to ask you once, and I suggest you listen while you can. The second time I speak, your head will be rolling on the floor.”

“Temper, temper.” Silas slowly approached the stage, his hands crossed behind him. “I’d hoped we could talk about this like gentlemen.”

Metallic gray Duct tape had been smashed over Emelia’s mouth and her hands had been tied behind her back, her ankles tied in front of her. If Silas touched another hair on her precious head it’d be the last thing he did…

“Are you all right?” Drake asked, focusing hard on the fear in Emelia’s eyes.

Nodding quickly, Emelia took a few deep breaths through her nose, then shifted her gaze to whatever Silas was hiding behind his back. Drake wished Emelia had perfected the art of silent pack-speak, but nevertheless, he understood. Whatever weapon Silas held, it was worth warning him about.

“Fine,” Drake said to Silas. “Let’s talk. Call off your pups.”

The two wolves that had attacked Drake snarled and spit, circling him like he was fresh meat at a feeding frenzy. As Silas spoke in his mind, the wolves backed away, but didn’t go far. They stood against the edges of the room like well-taught soldiers, snorting puffs of air into the room.

“Hope you know that what you’re doing is an act of war. Emelia and I completed the bonding ceremony. She is my Luminary through and through.” Drake swallowed down the fear that he could lose her, so quickly after he’d found her. “Once my pack gets word of what you’ve done, it’ll be open season on you and anyone you’re associated with.”

“Maybe your pack doesn’t have to get word.” Silas stood beside Emelia, stroking his hand down the back of her hair. She recoiled against his touch, cringing as he patted her head. “You see, Drake, I am not a monster—contrary to what you might think. I simply know that our father wouldn’t have wanted a turned wolf to rule. I’m continuing his legacy.”

“Those are the words of a madman,” Drake said, stepping around a table to get closer. It would take him half a second to shift and leap to the stage. Would it be quick enough? “Our father lived in another time. Since fate brought Emelia to my side, maybe it’s time we change the way we think. Maybe we should shift our pack mentalities a bit. Let her go.”

“Not until I get what I want.”

Silas tugged Emelia’s head back. She yelped. Drake stalked closer. A single table separated them now.

“I told you my terms when we spoke earlier. They haven’t changed. I want all of our father’s estate,” Silas said. “I want the land and property, the holdings, the bonds, the packmates who’ve been employed under his businesses, everything.”

“You have everything. It’s already passed to you.”

Since Drake had become Alpha, Silas had inherited their father’s estate. Drake had been left with the corporation he’d built…the Wilder Financial offices in Seattle and San Francisco. While he’d established the businesses well, they were nothing compared to the ones in their father’s estate. They were nickels in a billion-dollar pot. There was no way Wilder Financial could support Drake’s cost of living. He’d have to seriously downsize, nearly giving up everything. No jets. No multiple mansions. No extra staff. Bye-bye
Tara
, his grand yacht.

As Drake gazed into Emelia’s eyes, his gut clenched. He’d give up anything to be with her, his life included. He’d sacrifice every last penny he earned to see her smile another day.

Emelia had been right earlier, but only partially. He expected everything and compromised nothing.
Except
when it came to her.

“I’m not going to fight you on a dollar of our father’s money,” Drake said. “It’s yours.”

Emelia made a squealing sound and squirmed against the ropes. Waves of frustration and anger flowed from Emelia’s body, sparking against Drake’s heightened senses. But mixed with those upsetting emotions came the unmistakable scent of adoration.

“I said everything, Drake.” Silas sucked a breath of air through his teeth. “That means I get control over the pack, too.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Then I’ll kill your woman.”

Rumbling came from deep within Drake’s chest. “This is between us, Silas. It’s always been between us. Why don’t you do the honorable thing for once and leave my woman out of this.” Drake growled, his body seizing into one giant knot.

“But she’s the reason I’m in this position to begin with. If she’s dead, you don’t have a Luminary and you don’t have heirs. When you’re dead and gone, the pack will obey me.”

“You’re more insane than I suspected.” Drake stalked closer. “I’m going to enjoy beating the sense back into you.”

Silas crouched, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his onyx eyes blazing like wicked fire. His eyes twitched and the wolves against the walls flexed, inching closer.

It didn’t take a calculating mind to know that three wolves fighting against one were terrible odds.