by V Vee
Growl’s Queen
Woodland Pack
The Full-Length Novel
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
V. Vee
Growl’s Queen © copyright 2019 V. Vee
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Dedication
Dedicated To:
All of the Angelos out there who support their women being strong, successful, and as Alpha as the world expects them to be.
And to the women who aren’t afraid to step up, be bold, and speak out.
It’s the Era of the Woman!
Thanks Go To:
Kim, Jackie, Elisabeth, Talia, Cammy, and Liz. There’s a reason why you’re all in this book and a reason why you all get your own book in this series. Thank you for holding me down and being there for me.
Love you ladies!
Vee
In Memory Of: Justin, Vivianna, Christopher, Angel, and Granny Mary. Love Always.
Blurb
Known as the “Growling Wolf CEO”, Angelo Marconi is Alpha of the Woodland Pack, and the epitome of that title. But when this Alpha meets his mate and danger surrounds her, he will learn what happens when an alpha truly meets his match.
Angelo “Growl” Marconi is known as The Growling Wolf CEO because of his viciousness in handling his rivals in the business world and the way he had a tendency to growl when he was annoyed or turned on (something his lovers found extremely arousing). “He stalks them, pounces, and rips out their throats,” is a statement synonymous with the gorgeous half Italian, half Cree Indigenous man. However, most of his associates, friends, haters, and lovers would be surprised to know exactly how close they are to his true identity with his infamous moniker. Because, Angelo “Growl” Marconi actually is a wolf. A wolf shifter to be exact. And even with his long lifespan he has focused on his business, his younger brothers, and his pack. Nothing else.
That all changes the day that Joi Young marches into his office building. Joi is a creative, talented, independent, snarky, full-figured, brown-skinned beauty and Angelo’s mate. Knowing she belongs to him does something to Growl and he’s determined to claim her, bond with her, and possess every inch of her. Just the way the spirits intended. However, Joi has other ideas. She already escaped one demanding and controlling man and has no plans to return to the same type of relationship again. No matter how hot the sex is.
But Angelo refuses to take no for an answer. They belong together, and he’s determined to show that to her. But when Growl’s secret business dealings, his secret dual nature, and Joi’s ex returns to the scene to cause havoc, Angelo has to do everything in his power to keep Joi safe and prove to her that she’s his queen… and his love.
Prologue
Four wolves stood on the top of a craggy mountain, the moon shining bright behind them. All of nature was still around them, waiting with bated breath as if they were aware that something momentous was indeed occurring. Slowly, with nary a thought, the gray wolf shifted into the form of a tall, slender woman. Her olive skin gleamed in the moonlight, her black hair hung down past her shoulders to the middle of her back in luscious waves, and her hazel eyes reflected the barely restrained animal within her. She lifted her head delicately and sniffed the air. Pointing to the east in a gesture of claim, she nodded, shifted back into a wolf, and took off in a run.
The other three wolves watched her leave, none of them moving, before each of them shifted into their human forms as well, one after the other. The brown wolf, whose skin was pale, and whose hair was light brown, headed for the north. The white wolf, whose skin was darker than them all, and whose hair was almost so coal black it was almost blue, headed south, and the black wolf, whose skin was a golden tan, whose hair was black, and who exuded strength and Alpha domination from every pore, who frankly, scared the other wolves just a bit, headed west.
To America. Where he took on the name: Marconi.
It was at these four points each of them would take their packs and settle. Where they would procreate, find their mates, and expand, grow, and take over their regions. It was their duty. Their right. As the children and descendants of Remus and Romulus. They would interact with the humans, then they would conquer them. All except Marconi.
But for the others? They knew, it was time for the Remulupos and the Romulupos to retake their thrones.
***
Rome, Italy
18 July 64 AD
Aventine
Drusus watched from atop his master’s residence, raising his nose to the air, he inhaled deeply. It seemed as if every shifter in the area—every male shifter—was heading out of the city of Rome with determination in their strides. They gave off the distinct scent of mischief, anger, and danger, there was not even a hint of fear among them.
Which was more suspicious than anything. For as long as Drusus had been serving under Consul Titus Clodius Eprius Marcellus, as his Doctores, he’d never once come into contact with another shifter who didn’t bear the slightest stench of fear upon their fur. He was the exception, of course. Perhaps it was to do with the fact that he was not in debt to the Roman Empire. He was not a slave, he was barely a servant. Were it not for the favor he owed Eprius, there was no way the Alpha of the Marconi pack would even be there. And yet he was, and was he witnessed caused the fur of his own wolf to raise in suspicion within him.
Something was going on. Something was happening. And whatever it was, Drusus had a feeling it was going to be to the detriment of the humans that they lived among.
“Drusus, word has reached me that Emperor Nero has been seen outside the city, with fiddle in hand,” Eprius’s voice came to Drusus where he sat out on the patio, his eyes trained on the departing shifters. He turned and bowed to the human—the friend—he would soon be saying goodbye to. His time in service to Eprius, in order to pay off his debt, was coming to an end within a fortnight. While Drusus would miss the Roman, he looked forward to returning to his pack.
Eprius smiled fondly at him and walked up to Drusus, clasping the back of his neck.
“Ah, my friend. Your presence will surely be missed among these halls, hmm?” Eprius said with a small chuckle. He shook his head. “I did not expect you to throw yourself so fully into your role as my Doctores. The men respect you, and the women?” He waggled his eyebrows. “They want you.”
Drusus laughed and shrugged, checking the room to be sure they were alone, before taking Eprius’s lips with his own.
“But I long for you, and only you, my mate,” he said in a low voice. He swallowed Eprius’s groan, knowing he would have to make this embrace quick. They couldn’t be caught engaging in such actions, for while same sex relations were welcomed within the flagrantly liscentious, debaucherous, and sexual parties often put on by members of the patrician class, and while Emperor Nero, himself, was known for engaging in sexual perversions, th
e relationship between Eprius and Drusus was only accepted within shifter packs. And only because Eprius was one of two mates Drusus had been blessed with by the god Romulus.
Footsteps in the hallway, heading in the direction forced Drusus to release the man his heart longed for, and step away. He turned his head away from Eprius’s wife, bowing to her, before returning to his post out on the balcony. If he could not slake his hunger for his mate, then he would simply find out what the shifters in Rome were up to.
And if need be….
Stop them.
***
Livius Numisius looked around the immediate area, his eyes sharpening, nostrils flaring as he took in every inch and scent of the surrounding darkness. In order for this to work, he and the rest of his brethren need to be completely alone. There could be no witnesses. And if there were, they would need to be dispatched with quickly.
“Dost thou have the oil?” his eldest brother, Gaius, asked him.
“Etiam!” Livius hissed. “Why dost thou insist on questioning me in a manner befitting a dolt? I am no fool. Would that thou would cease treating me thusly.”
Gaius rolled his eyes and placed a large palm on Livius’s shoulder. “Calm thyself, young one, and cease your prattle. I inquire only on the quantity and readiness of our supplies. Our mission must not fail.”
Livius closed his eyes with a sigh. He was always just a bit too sensitive when it came to his oldest brother. Gaius was a Roman soldier. Beloved of Emperor Nero. Though Livius and his entire family despised the perverse ruler, to be in his favor was a boon not soon wasted or denied.
“Apologies,” Livius breathed. “I fear my nerves grow ever more sensitive as we approach night’s end. I have been tasked with much. Honored with such an undertaking by such as you, brother. I would not fail you, our brethren, father, or our Alpha.”
Gaius nodded and patted Livius’s shoulder. “You shall not fail, Livius. I shall remain by your side throughout this most momentous endeavor. Fret not for you shall not be alone. My hands will be here to guide you. My body and strength here to aide you.”
Livius inclined his head in his brother’s direction. “Gratitude.”
Turning back to the rapidly darkening landscape, he was aware of Gaius walking away from him and heading to his own post. They would wait for the signal in the distance before they would overturn the numerous vases of oil that had been gathered and carried up to their current position.
Livius wiped his hands down the fabric of his belted tunic. He breathed out a deep breath and felt his wolf clamoring against his ribs, whimpering and whining to be free. Romulupos, how he wished that darkness had fallen in its entirety so that he could strip down and shift into his true form. He longed to be done with this mission.
Rome would burn, humanity would be wiped out, and the age of the lupine would be here.
As the heavy, black blanket of night settled over Rome, the signal came from the distance and letting out a howl, Livius overturned the numerous vases, aware of his twelve brothers doing the same. As the oil flowed down into the city square, from different points, Livius and the rest of his pack, set torch to oil and watched as the flames of the angry fire exploded into the air, spreading quickly.
One by one, homes, buildings, altars caught on fire. Red, orange, and yellow burst into the night sky, blending with black smoke, the sound of men, women, and children screaming as they ran from their homes filled the streets of Rome. Livius stood among his brothers, bouncing as he awaited the second signal, the one that would allow him to release his inner wolf and race down among the Romans who ran for their lives. At the sight of the second signal, Livius threw his head back and let out a howl, one which—combined with his pack members—shook the very foundation of the burning city.
Livius tossed off his tunic and shifted. Leaping forward, he raced down into the city proper. Each man he came upon, he leapt for their throats, biting down with his open mouth, his canines ripping into their flesh as he ripped out their throats, before tossing their lifeless forms into the flames. Some of his pack members had shifted and they dragged women from their homes, away from their families, screaming, kicking, and fighting, desperate to escape the horror that awaited them. While Livius knew he should feel a measure of guilt or shame at the fate that awaited many of the women that very night, he could dredge up not an ounce of remorse. The human women had brought this nightmare unto themselves, as had the men they had all so anxiously lain with, scorning he and his brethren. Treating them like animals. Kidnapping them from their packs, their communities, their villages. Enslaving them. Forcing them to serve them, or forcing them to fight in arenas, pits, caves. Raping them. Killing them. Never knowing the animals, the beasts, the wolves that resided within. Waiting for a time where they would be able to exact revenge.
That time had come.
Livius’s fur rose and he turned around swiftly, coming face-to-face with a young boy. His blond hair streaked with soot, tears filling his eyes, even as he held a sword aloft. Livius huffed out a laugh. So the Roman whelp thought to take him on? Did he not see the lifeless bodies of other children that littered the streets around him, being burned to dust along with the buildings of Rome? Did he desire to join them?
As Livius watched the young boy square his shoulders, he felt a modicum of respect touch him. He admired the young man, who could be no more than twelve or thirteen. Oh, he would still kill him, but he would give the boy a swift death. Worthy of a warrior.
Growling, Livius lowered his torso, raises his hind legs as he narrowed his focus on the boy in front of him.
This would be his undoing as a loud roar sounded behind him. It was the sound of loss. The roar of the brokenhearted. It was the growl and thunderous yell of an avenging angel.
When Livius turned his head in the direction of the noise, his eyes widened.
A man stood behind him, covered in claw marks, blood streaming down over his torso. His face covered in soot and burns, dragging the dead bodies of some of Livius’s pack.
The man was not human. He was wolf.
Livius had no time to shift back into his human form. To question why the wolf fought against them. To mourn for his own loss. He was only able to take in the sight of the black-haired shifter, his blue eyes gleaming in the light of the raging fire, and to take in his scent before death claimed him in the arrow released from the other shifter’s bow. It was the scent of vengeance. The scent of justice. The scent of fear and rage. The scent of death and it could only have come from one pack. One man. One shifter.
Alpha Drusus Marconi.
Chapter 1
Present Day
2 Days Before Joi’s Meeting With Growl
Manhattan, NY
Joi Young stared at the screen of her iPhone XR™ and blinked repeatedly, hoping the words of the text message would change, clenching her shaking hand into a fist. Because there was absolutely no. Way that Perry, her boyfriend of the past few years, had just sent her what her phone was telling her he did. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and read the message again.
Perry: Babe, can I get 50k?
Joi: What? Why do you need 50k?
Perry: I saw this badass yacht and the owner is willing to sell it to me cheap. But I gotta get the money to him today.
Joi: That’s a lot of money for a boat.
Perry: Don’t be a bitch, J, it ain’t like you ain’t got the money.
Yeah. The words were still there. She wasn’t hallucinating.
Did this broke-ass, freeloading, mama’s boy call her a bitch?
Before Joi could respond she heard her mother, Jackie’s, voice in her head.
If a man calls you a bitch when you know you’re right, take a breath, then give him a reason to call you a bitch.
Smiling grimly, Joi typed a reply with one hand while she opened the folder marked: “Perry” on her computer.
Joi: I’m not a bitch. Or at least I wasn’t one, but I can show you what a badass bitch like me can do.
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Perry: Damn baby, you know I ain’t mean it like that. Don’t go doin sumthin stupid.
Joi rolled her eyes. Perry was whiter than Wonder Bread™ but listening to him talk and reading his text messages, one would never be able to tell. He took what he considered “slang”, “Ebonics”, “hood” language to a whole other level. He tried so hard to be “one of the brothas” when the truth of the matter was, if he took one step into the Bronx or Brooklyn, the former Long Island suburb resident would shit his pants and run back to “Mummy” and “Daddy.”
Again Joi heard her mother’s voice in her head.
What kind of boy you bringing to my house Joibelle? This white boy can’t protect you from a fly, much less these crazy, racist assholes that keep threatening your life. Break him off some chocolate then toss him back in the rice bin with the rest of the Republicans.
Joi snorted as she sat her phone down on the top of her desk. Her eyes scanned over, briefly, her workstation. There were pictures of her parents from their most recent anniversary party. A picture of her sister, Kim, with all her kids, standing in front of the house Joi had bought for her. There was also a picture of Joi with her girls. Her best friends: Talia, and the twins: Elisabeth and Lizzie, who worked with her at the company: JY’s F&M Online Makeover, LLC.
Joi was blessed. She knew she was. She had an amazing family, fantastic friends, and a successful business. She was blessed professionally and in her personal relationships. But, as she sent the incriminating photos, emails, and receipts of Perry’s activities she’d obtained from her private detective, just in case the bastard tried to sue her for palimony after she dumped him, to his boss, his parents, siblings, and major news outlets, anonymously, she simply wondered why she couldn’t be blessed in the romance department.
