Gone With the Wolf (13 page)

“It’ll take an act of God to get me in there,” he said.

“Or a losing game of darts.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he chuckled. “I’ve had hundreds of years to perfect my shot.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Emelia said.

She held out her hand to seal the deal. Drake took it and shook, enveloping her hand in warmth.

“I tried to warn you, but if you insist on making this easy on me, lead the way.” He swept his arm aside so she could pass through to the bar. “I’m thinking a steak and lobster dinner. Maybe a late-night jaunt to Victoria Island.”

Emelia yanked six darts—three flagged blue, three flagged red—out of the cork board and turned. Drake stood on the throw line, gearing up to throw an invisible dart. Watching him lose was going to be the highlight of the night.

“You know, Drake,” Emelia said, handing him the blue darts. “I just realized that I am sure about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Smiling ear to ear, Emelia took her spot on the line and fired the first dart straight into the bull’s-eye. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Tell me again what this proves?” Drake stood at the end of his pier that jutted into Lake Washington, and peered into the dark water.

“It proves that you’re a man of your word. You lost that game fair and square.”

Kneeling on the slated wood, Drake untied his shoes, slipped them off, then pushed them aside. “You could’ve mentioned that you were a ringer.”

Emelia laughed. “You could’ve asked.”

“I think you cheated.” Moving as slow as molasses, Drake took off his coat, folded it, and draped it over his shoes. “Nobody gets three bull’s-eyes from their first three shots.”

“Nobody but a woman who has played in dart tournaments since she was sixteen.” Emelia looked back down the long stretch of pier to where Drake’s mansion perched on the raised bank, its warm lights beckoning them in from the cold. His home looked different than it did the night of the Halloween party. It looked warm. Homey and inviting. She wished she’d grabbed a blanket before heading down to the lake. Her raincoat and jeans did little to block the wind. “Come on, fishy-fishy, get swimming. It’s freezing out here.”

“My coat’s right there. If you’re cold, put it on.” He stripped out of his shirt, robbing the breath from Emelia’s lungs. The bright light of the nearly full moon gave Drake’s chiseled body a glow that rivaled bronze statues. His muscles twitched and flexed as he unzipped his pants and yanked them down, then stepped out of them. “This is madness. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“It’ll be over before you know it.” Emelia brushed her hands over her arms and jumped up and down for warmth. “You can’t think, you’ve just gotta jump.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as drizzles of rain seeped from the night sky.

“Oh, sure, add some rain to the mix.” Drake stepped out of his underwear and chucked them onto his pile of clothes, then stood at the end of the pier, hesitating. “You and Mother Nature must be in cahoots.”

Emelia would’ve laughed at how big of a chicken Drake was being, but she couldn’t clamp her mouth shut. His shoulders were wet, dripping with rain. Shadows played over his body, accenting the hard lines of his back, his rear. He was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen, a man who radiated power and dominance…yet he was scared of a little rain and a lot of water. He curled his toes over the edge of the pier and peered into the lake.

“Go,” she whispered, losing her voice. Oh, how she wanted to sneak up behind him and rub her hands over the slick, pulsing muscles on his back. Okay, okay, so she wanted to shove him in. “Go!”

As lightning split the sky, Drake blew out a few quick breaths of air and jumped. He landed in the water with a giant splash and disappeared into the lake’s murk.

Surprised he actually did it, Emelia ran to the edge. Drake popped out of the water like a rocket, his eyes as wide and bright as silver dollars. “It’s fucking cold!”

“It’s November! Of course it’s cold!”

“Ah shit, it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s fucking cold!” He swam frantically for the ladder, his arms and legs flailing like he couldn’t gain control of them.

She’d never seen his wall of composure crumble like this. It tickled Emelia down to her toes. She laughed, then felt bad, and met him at the ladder.

“Here, give me a hand,” Drake said, stopping at the bottom. “Some of these steps are broken.”

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She teased, extending her hand.

Drake snatched her arm and yanked her into the water behind him, then toppled over with her. Emelia screamed as the water cocooned around her, sucking the air from her lungs. The frigid water burned on contact, prickling her skin with thousands of needles. Drake’s legs tangled in hers, his arms lifted her up, and moments later they both emerged from the water gasping for air.

“You sucker!” she screamed, splashing Drake. “The water’s freezing!”

He laughed. Really laughed. Then splashed her back.

Every muscle in Emelia’s body went numb as something in her middle came to life. She buzzed with excitement and her heart swelled as she cowered from Drake’s splashing assault. She swam away and kicked hard, drenching him with the force of her flapping feet. For the first time, Drake wasn’t a shrewd businessman, her boss, or even a werewolf. She wasn’t a bartender, or a secretary. Drake was her equal. A man who made her feel like no other could. Emelia was freezing, her extremities going numb, her mind screaming at her to get out of the water as fast as she could. But there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Drake swam toward the ladder and tugged Emelia along. She laughed between gasping breaths and didn’t miss each opportunity to splash Drake in the back.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, holding on to the side of the ladder. Rain fell on his lashes, drenching his face. “You first.”

Emelia took the first submerged step, felt Drake’s leg brush hers, then stopped when an electric current surged between them.

“What are you waiting for?” he said, as rain fell harder, dimpling the water around them.

As Emelia’s heart leaped, she said, “This,” and pressed forward, catching his mouth. His lips were slippery and soft, sliding against hers in an erotic dance that she didn’t want to end. His tongue caressed hers with dizzying skill, reminding Emelia of Drake’s unmatched talent in the bedroom. He moaned into her, sliding his arms around her waist as if her figure had been molded to fit perfectly into his embrace. With a firm hand against Emelia’s hip, Drake guided her to the stairs, so that her back was flush against them. He pinned her there, wedging his thigh between her legs, and continued his possession of her body. She gasped for air, clutched at his back, and ached to taste more of his lips.

He dove down to her neck, smudging deliciously wet kisses along her collarbone, and back up to her chin. She quivered as his tongue shot out, tracing the tiny, circular indentation at the base of her neck. She lost her breath when his kisses turned to gentle sucks. And as Drake found her breasts beneath the water and massaged them in his strong hands, Emelia couldn’t help but lay her head back and let the sensations flood her.

Between the frigid water lapping around them, the heat of Drake’s mouth on her skin, and the warm rain falling on her face, Emelia could’ve exploded from sensory overload. His touch was electric, lighting her skin on fire. Her body responded instinctively by arching into him, begging to give him what he wanted. Despite the temperature of the water, she was warm with Drake’s body crushing hers.

“You were right,” Drake said, then continued to devour her mouth.

Emelia gasped for air, relishing the roughness of his hands as they raked over her body. “About what?”

“Everything,” he said. Rain slid between their mouths, but couldn’t quench Emelia’s burning desire for Drake’s body to cover hers. “If this is what I get for feeling instead of thinking, I think I should try it more often. Minus the midnight swim, of course.”

Emelia smiled into another kiss, and as Drake effortlessly lifted her out of the water and set her on the pier, she laughed. He made her giddy. The way he eyed her body like it was his. The way he claimed and possessed her.

She couldn’t get enough, and she knew she’d never tire of it.

As Drake emerged from the water, he swept Emelia into his arms and carried her to the opposite side of the pier, where a massive tri-level yacht was moored. The top decks were pearly white, with tons of windows and an open bow, while the bottom half was painted a glossy shade of midnight blue.

“Watch your step,” Drake whispered, setting her down.

“What’s up there?” Emelia’s teeth chattered, and although she couldn’t see her lips, she’d bet they were turning purple.

“I keep towels on the deck,” he said, crossing his arms in a shiver. “Unless you’d rather run back to the house.”

Running a few hundred yards in the pouring rain in soggy shoes didn’t sound appealing.

“No, this is…fine.” Her gaze trailed across the long, swooping deck of the yacht, then focused on the white, bulky letters stenciled on the bow:
Tara
. “A former flame?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” He took her hand.

“The name of the boat. Was Tara a former lover?”

Even through the pouring rain, Emelia could see hints of laughter sparkling deep in Drake’s chocolate-toned eyes. “Tara is the name of the plantation in
Gone with the Wind
.”

“You’re a fan of the movie?” Emelia couldn’t picture it.

“I’m more of an all-around classic movie fan. Back then, the men were smooth and the women had tenacity to spare. Doesn’t get better than that.” His full lips pulled into a smile and he squeezed her hand. “Now up you go, my lady.” Holding her hand, Drake helped Emelia on board, then followed closely behind her.

The yacht was magnificent, long and sleek, with a formidable bow and bench seats lining the cabin. Although the boat was dark and quiet, bobbing smoothly on the water, Emelia bet the thing was powerful at sea—a beast. She stepped beneath a balcony to get protection from the rain. As if the storm knew the second she’d found somewhere dry, the rain began to fall harder, dripping from the edges of the awning like a lightly streaming waterfall. Drake popped the lid on a bench on the deck as Emelia breathed deep. How had she ended up on the most luxurious yacht she’d ever seen, on Lake Washington, in the middle of a rainstorm, with the elusive Drake Wilder? Two months ago she wouldn’t have believed she’d be here.

“Here.” He draped a towel around her shoulders, then pulled her against him.

Emelia’s body responded to Drake’s body, not the terry cloth, and instantly warmed.

“Better?” he asked, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Your lips aren’t so purple.”

“Thank you.” Lifting up on tiptoe, Emelia kissed him with all the passion she’d kept buried inside. She tried to snapshot this moment—the sound of the rain, the way her stomach somersaulted when his tongue slipped inside her mouth. She wanted to keep this memory with her always. It was dreamlike. Beyond surreal.

Emelia’s heart pinched as realization struck her like a thunderclap. This wasn’t her reality…it might as well have been a dream. Drake wanted to show her what it would be like if she lived with him day and in and day out. If this was the life Drake wanted her to see—jet-setting to galas in the city, mansions in Seattle and San Francisco, and spending the night on an elegant yacht—she didn’t fit. She was a middle-class, hardworking bartender. She couldn’t talk to his associates the way he did. She couldn’t drive his Mercedes every day, though she’d started to get used to how that car could get up and go.

How long would it take before Drake realized she didn’t belong in his world?

As Emelia put her head on Drake’s chest and scanned the long length of the yacht, she realized she was out of her league. If this was the way Drake lived, she’d never live up to it. She refused to live her life feeling inferior to what Drake had to offer. If they were going to be “bonded”—as he put it—she would need to feel like Drake’s match.

If Emelia said yes to Drake, would she be marrying the businessman, or the carefree man who flapped around buck-naked in the lake? Would she be marrying the stern, unshakable man who loved extravagances that she couldn’t dream of having, or the man she met in the wine cellar when he could’ve been the janitor or company security? If she was going to consider spending her life with him, Emelia needed more reality and less of…
this
.

An idea struck.

“I think I’d like to let you take me on that date,” she said, as lightning lit the sky.

Would Drake continue to try to impress her with glitz and glamor or would he be the man she wanted him to be?

“I have some last-minute business to take care of tomorrow,” he said, “but how does Friday night sound?”

“I have to work the bar on Friday.”

“After your shift then?” He didn’t skip a beat.

What kind of date starts at two in the morning?

“Okay,” she said, struggling to remember that the date would have to happen on his terms. “Friday night sounds perfect.” As a light on his neighbor’s back porch clicked on, Emelia smiled. “I think your neighbors might be peeping on us.”

“Only if they have a telescopic lens.” Craning his neck around, Drake peered through the rain. Without warning, he hauled Emelia against him and bent her back into a dance-like dip. “If they’re watching, let’s give them the show of their lives.”

Emelia’s body surged with heat as Drake possessed her mouth and dragged her to the floor.

Chapter Sixteen

Early Friday morning, Raul pushed through the glass door leading to the conference room and took the seat across from Drake. The table was black and glossy, reflecting the blue of Raul’s tie like a streak of lightning across a starless sky.

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” Raul said. It looked like stress lines had been permanently etched into his face. “I have news on Silas.”

They had assigned packmates to trail Silas since the night of the gala, but hadn’t heard back. Silas had fled to the airport, where he’d had a private jet on standby. Where he’d taken off to was anyone’s guess.

One thing Drake knew for certain: until Emelia became his Luminary she was still in Silas’s sights. Killing Emelia before Drake bonded with her would be easy for Silas. There would be no one to answer to but Drake, and little consequence among their pack. Attacking Emelia after they bonded, however, would be a declaration of war. Silas would be seen as threatening their Alpha’s woman, and that wouldn’t be tolerated. If Silas attacked Emelia after they bonded, it’d be suicide.

“And?” Drake asked.

“We tracked Silas’s plane to Colorado yesterday afternoon. Twenty packmates disembarked, including Silas. They boarded another private plane, flew north over the Canadian border, then veered west.”

“They knew we were tailing them,” Drake said, his insides coiling tighter and tighter.

“Yes, sir.” Raul leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen nervously against the table. “They landed in Vancouver early this morning, then split up to confuse us. Half of his group boarded one plane and departed for London with a final destination of Greece. The other half boarded a second plane that didn’t have a flight plan recorded. We have men stationed in Vancouver questioning traffic controllers for possible intel.”

“Damn it.” Drake’s insides flared with anger. Clenching his fists, Drake stood and paced in front of the wall made of windows. The sky was smothered with gray clouds that drenched the city in dreary blurs of rain. “Which plane did Silas board?”

Raul shook his head slowly and swallowed hard. “One of our packmates claimed to see Silas board the Greece-bound plane, but upon further questioning, his certainty wavered.”

“Damn it, Raul!” Drake spun around, his teeth chattering with pent-up rage. The wolf inside him rattled his bones, threatening to burst free. “That’s not good enough! I want Silas found and I want him found now!”

Windows shook. The floor vibrated. They were nothing compared to the shock waves rolling through Drake’s middle. He wanted Silas to pay with blood for attacking Emelia.

“Until Emelia makes her decision, she’s in danger, Raul.” Drake spat the words. “Alert the entire pack.”

“Our best packmates are guarding her now, another two are stationed outside her apartment, and the others in the area have been informed to keep an eye out for suspicious werewolf activity from neighboring packs.”

“Good.” Drake’s mind raced. “It’s nearly eight. Is everything ready?”

Silas had demanded a conference call with Drake at eight sharp. Drake had wanted to tell his brother to fuck off. That trying to kill Emelia might not have been a declaration of war, but it didn’t matter—Silas had crossed the crazy line. But Drake couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get a read on where Silas might be. He was probably calling midflight, but the sound of a mumbling packmate in the background or the slip of a pilot announcing their destination might be all it would take to reveal his location. He was looking for something. Anything.

“Everything’s set,” Raul said. “All our bases are covered.”

“Damn well they better be.”

Drake glanced at the wall to this right, the one filled with six very blank flat-screen televisions. The instant the clock ticked over to 8:00 a.m., the large screen in the center of the wall flickered to life. Silas’s head and shoulders crowded the screen, making Drake feel like he was looking in the bathroom mirror. While Silas’s hair was the same color as Drake’s, dark like an oil slick, it was a bit shorter and didn’t reach his ears. His jaw was just as square as Drake’s, his brows just as thick, his shoulders just as broad. Only the tiny indention on Drake’s left ear marked a difference between the twins, and most people never noticed.

“Brother,” Silas greeted with a slippery smile. “Good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

Silas’s smile dropped. “Down to business already? I haven’t seen you in years and you can’t find a ‘howdy, brother’
in you anywhere? Pity.”

“You attacked an innocent woman. You think I’m going to kiss your ass and play nice simply because we share the same genes? Wouldn’t count on it.”

“Oh, she’s far from innocent,” Silas said, his dark eyes shadowing over. “We both know what she is. I felt your connection to her the instant you did.”

“I want you to leave Emelia out of this.” The fire in Drake’s gut kindled with hatred. “How could you stoop so low, brother? How could you do it?”

They’d been close growing up, more than friends, more than brothers. They’d been inseparable. All it took was one fateful night, and one horrible mistake, for everything to flip on its head. Silas hadn’t been the same since their father died. Since the night Drake was on guard and their father was attacked by an insane packmate who’d gone rogue. There was nothing Drake could’ve done to save their father. By the time the alert had been sounded, it was too late. But that didn’t mean Silas forgave him for it. In fact, it was the unfortunate opposite. Silas hadn’t stopped blaming Drake since the day it happened.

“I think you’ve forgotten that the position of Alpha was rightfully mine.” Silas’s eyebrows pinched. “You shouldn’t be in this position. I was born first. If our father was alive, he would’ve been out of his prime. He would’ve passed the title to me, and you’d be waiting until he died to claim the investments in his estate.”

“Father’s death was not my fault, Silas,” Drake said. “You have to let it go.”

“Maybe you should let your little strumpet go instead. Get a real taste for how it feels to lose the person you love most in the world at the hands of someone else.”

Fire erupted in Drake’s belly, churning into an inferno of rage. “You touch a hair on her head and I swear on our father’s grave that I will hunt you down like the dog you are. When I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“Ha! You don’t even know where the hell I am now! How do you expect to find me to finish this plan of yours?” Silas belted out a laugh that echoed through the boardroom. “I think the rumor about Luminaries is true. They do make Alphas batshit crazy.”

“Fuck you,” Drake spat.

“I’m gonna make you a deal,
brother
.” Silas leaned toward the camera until his sneering face filled the screen. “You hand over control of our father’s pack, declare in front of everyone that you are conceding to my rule, that I am the Alpha and rightful heir to the throne, and I’ll let your precious Emelia live.”

The floor beneath Drake’s feet slipped away. His legs dangled over the edge of his chair, going numb from the toes up as the feeling of being swept away on a rogue wind dizzied him. Blood pounded against his temples and rushed through his ears.

He couldn’t deal with the devil. He just couldn’t. Once Silas ruled the pack, he’d have more power than he’d know what to do with. His blame and hatred wouldn’t stop. Silas would focus the army of the pack on Drake no matter what he said or did. In order to protect Emelia, Drake needed to stay in control. He needed the protection of the pack and to keep their strength out of Silas’s hands.

“I’ll always love you, Silas,” Drake said, fighting back a snarl. “And I wish it wasn’t like this…but you’ve just sealed your fate.”

He disconnected the call before Silas asked for everything.

“Raul, have the men go back over this tape. Look for any clues. Sounds, flinches, cues,
anything
that might give a clue as to where he’s headed. Keep me posted on the flight information that comes from the ground.”

“Will do.” Raul nodded and wildly scribbled a note on the pad of paper in front of him.

Shoving his arms into his coat, trying not to think about the family ties he’d just severed, Drake marched to the door. Damn it, he’d almost forgotten about the planning for Emelia’s bar; he’d spread himself too thin this time. “And Raul, I need you to reschedule the business meetings from this afternoon to Monday. I have to take the rest of today to finalize the deal for Emelia’s bar.”

Raul met Drake at the door. “I thought you said you were leaving the lawsuit in her hands.”

“I am,” Drake said as rain battered the windows in a relentless onslaught. “I’m talking about the other bar. The one that’ll make her forget all about the Knight Owl.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my grounds, sir, but I overheard one of her guards talking…”

Shit, here it comes.

“From my understanding of what I heard, you told Emelia that a female turned werewolf wouldn’t be able to survive having an Alpha’s child.”

Drake exited the office and nodded to Trixie on the way down the hall. “I hate to focus on responding to your comment, when I should be focused on smacking the hell out of her guards for talking behind our backs, but yes. I informed Emelia of the predicament. I thought it was the right thing to do…for her to know what kind of a future she faced with me.”

“Begging my pardon, sir,” Raul said, pressing the elevator door button. “But who told you about that…predicament?”

The elevator doors opened and they swept inside.

“My father,” Drake said, folding his arms over his chest. “I remember hearing rumors about females dying while I was in training in the Sierras.”

“Forgive me for saying so, sir, but your father was wrong.”

Drake’s gaze shot to Raul. “What are you talking about?”

“My cousin Veronica was turned by her husband, the Alpha of his pack in New Mexico. They have five beautiful, healthy children, and she’ll be three hundred and two next month.”

“Son of a bitch.” He’d
lied
. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

Drake didn’t need an answer. His father had always believed turned werewolves were weaker, and would never be as strong as pure-blooded, born wolves. He’d never wanted his sons to bond for love. He’d wanted them to bond for strength and the strong succession of the pack.

He had
brainwashed
them.

Emelia would be able to have his children. His heirs. They could build their future with or without children, but at least now they had the choice.

As the elevator doors hissed shut, Drake’s heart skipped a beat.