Growl's Queen: The Full-Length Novel (Woodland Pack Book 1)

by V Vee

  Her full breasts pressed against the fabric of her shirt, and to Angelo’s sharp gaze, he could see her nipples pebble and harden behind the silky material of her top and her bra. Joi was much more… endowed in the bosom and in her ass than his sisters, cousins, or any of the females in his pack were. As a matter of fact, she was curvier than any woman Angelo had even shown an interest in.

  He was completely smitten. Her lips were full, her nose slender, and her eyes a slender oval, with long, black lashes surrounding the dark brown color. Darker than his own. Her waist was slender but not too thin, which made Angelo happy. He didn’t want to be mated to a stick figure. That his mate, his comes animae—soul mate—or koro spiritu anima—heart, spirit, soul, his soul’s mate, not only had curves, but was beautiful, and from what he could remember of the details of her business, was brilliant, creative, driven, ambitious, and dedicated? Angelo knew that he would be offering up an extra special prayer of thanks to the gods: Remulupos and Romulupos that evening.

  When Joi cleared her throat and turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye, Angelo straightened and offered her a smile. He would be friendly for now, but once they reached his office, all bets were off. He would make her his before she left the building that day.

  Left with him to go back to his home. He was not letting her out of his sight. She belonged to him. From now until the end of both of their lives.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Marconi,” Joi said, her voice was husky. Smoky. As if she were a blues singer, every word sounding as if she were whispering it, or seductively singing it to him, in his ear, in the middle of a blues bar. Or while she pressed up against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his hands wrapped around her waist, gripping the full, round globes of her ample bottom. Angelo couldn’t prevent the shudder that rippled through him if he’d tried.

  He didn’t try.

  Angelo wanted Joi to know how she affected him. And when her eyes widened, and her breathing sped up slightly, he knew it had been his best decision yet. He turned to look at her fully and let his eyes settle on her full lips for a moment, imagining what it would be like to press his mouth against her. To take a sip from her lips. To slip his tongue inside the heated cavern of her mouth. Or better yet, to sink to his knees, lift a leg over his shoulder and taste her deepest, most intimate part.

  “It was entirely my pleasure, Ms. Young,” Angelo assured her, letting his voice rumble a bit on the word “pleasure” for emphasis. “Had I known you were coming by, I would have had someone pick you up, or meet you in the lobby.”

  Joi turned to him, her eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Why would you do that, Mr. Marconi? It is widely known—worldwide, as a matter of fact—that you don’t meet with anyone. Not face-to-face. So why would you make an exception for me?”

  Angelo stepped closer to Joi, matching her step-for-step as she backed away from him, until her back came to a stop against the opposite wall of the elevator. He looked down into her face, trailing his gaze over the skin of her face, her neck, over the curves of her body, down her stocking-clad legs, over her pumps, and back up until his eyes collided with hers once again. He was close, but not too close. Enough to make her aware of him, of his scent, his heat, the breadth of his body, and his barely leashed power. Not in an effort to intimidate, but in a desire to arouse. To entice. To persuade her into accepting the truth. Once Angelo was certain he had her full attention, he smiled.

  “Because you are special, Ms. Young,” he answered.

  Joi frowned and lifted a hand to press it against his chest. “Let’s see if you still think that once I make my demands known, Mr. Marconi.”

  Angelo chuckled and looked down at Joi’s hand on his chest, his body heating up, his heart racing, and his cock thickening behind the zipper of his trousers. He felt the loss immediately when Joi—undoubtedly realizing she was touching him in a manner that would not be considered as “professional”—removed her hand from his pecs and dropped it to her side. He inhaled deeply, trying with all of his might to calm himself.

  He looked up into Joi’s eyes and smiled slowly.

  “Nothing you could ask for would make me change my mind, Ms. Young. I have the desire to give you the world, even if all you asked for was the city.”

  Angelo’s nostrils flared when the smell of Joi’s arousal flooded the elevator’s enclosure. It was an enticing scent. One that set his own cock to full hardness. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He didn’t want to cause Joi to fear him or to think him strange or insane, but how could he not revel in the intoxicating smell of her finding him attractive? Of her desiring him?

  He opened his eyes when the sound of her strangled moan reached his ears. He lifted an eyebrow in her direction when she covered her mouth. Barely restraining his wolf’s growl, Angelo reached out a hand to touch Joi’s hip when the sound of the elevator coming to a halt on his floor reached his ears.

  Wanting to preserve Joi’s dignity, reputation, and his own privacy, Angelo took a step back and swallowed back his growl of frustration. Tugging down the bottom of his suit jacket in a futile attempt to cover his erection, Angelo swept out a hand for Joi to precede him out of the elevator. He watched her ample bottom as she swayed out the doors ahead of him, her steps measured, and he struggled to gather his thoughts and focus his mind on business as he led her down the hallway to his large, modern office.

  He waited for Joi to enter before he closed the door behind her. He waited for her to say something about the way his office was decorated, wanting, absurdly, for her to be pleased with the way everything looked. He’d always been told that when a shifter met their mate that the way they saw everything in the world would be changed. They would be willing to change every single aspect of their lives in order to make their mates happy. Angelo had originally scoffed at such an idea, but now, having met his own mate, the other half of his soul, he realized that the stories, the legends had been tame in their recitation. He wasn’t simply willing to adjust his office, his home, his clothing for Joi. He would slice open his chest and spill his blood upon floor if Joi commanded it.

  His human self balked at such an idea, but his wolf half gloried at such a concept. Puffing in pride that such a sacrifice for its mate. Angelo cleared his throat and shook his head before walking over to his sideboard where a plethora of drinks sat waiting.

  “Would you like a drink? I have water, lemonade, juice, coffee, wine?” he offered.

  “Isn’t too early for a drink, Mr. Marconi?” Joi asked with censure in her voice.

  Angelo smirked in Joi’s direction. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, Ms. Young, is it not?” he replied. “But, I understand your hesitation. Perhaps you would rather have a cup of coffee?”

  Joi shook her head. “No. Thank you. I would rather get down to the purpose of my visit if you will.”

  Angelo inclined his head. “Certainly.” He indicated the couch that sat before one set of floor-to-ceiling windows against one wall. “Let’s sit.”

  “I think it might be prudent if I sit here instead,” Joi said as she took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  Angelo sighed and took the chair next to her. She was certainly making things difficult for him to claim and bond with her. It was no matter. He would have her. She belonged to him. No matter how much she tried to deny it.

  He fixed his face into a mask of politeness hoping she couldn’t see the lust that raged like an inferno inside of him. Couldn’t tell that his beast was battering against his ribcage like a mac truck. He grit his teeth, barely restraining his canines from elongating and leaping across the small space to sink his teeth in the join at the curve of her neck and shoulder and bonding them together forever.

  He wouldn’t do that to her. Not without her permission. Not now. Not yet. Not until she’d consented to be his. For all her life. For all eternity.

  “So, tell me, Mrs. Young, what brings you by this morning?” he asked, intentionally giving her the wrong
title so that she would correct him and confirm that she was unattached.

  “It’s Miss Young, actually,” Joi corrected him as he knew she would. She cleared her throat and smoothed an errant curl behind her ear with her long, slender, elegant fingers. “I came to speak to you about the contract given to me regarding the buyout of JY’s F&M Online Makeover, LLC. by Woodland Pack Incorporated?” She paused and Angelo waited for her to continue. When her eyes flashed with anger then darkened with disappointment, he felt as if he’d failed some test. A test he wasn’t even aware he was taking.

  He shifted in his chair. “Yes, um, Miss Young, I’m quite aware of the contract in question. I saw over the terms myself. Is the problem the amount offered, the time in which the company will be dissolved and come up under WPI’s umbrella? Because all of that can be negotiated. It’s why we have lawyers.” He stopped the flow of words leaving his mouth when the burning scent of anger reached his nose and he realized that Joi was becoming angrier with each sentence.

  “No.” Joi hissed. “No. I do not wish to negotiate the amount offered or the timeline. I want to ask why the hell you think I am willing to allow you to buy out my company, fire all of my employees, remove me as CEO and president, as creator, and place it as a WPI brand? You, you, pompous ass!”

  Angelo tried not to let his eyes fall to her rapidly rising and falling breasts as she panted but he found it extremely hard to do, especially since her bosom was so extremely ample. He only allowed himself a brief glance, however, before he returned his gaze to her face. That brief look was enough to incense her further, because she shoved herself up from her chair, toppling over the comfortable piece of furniture in her haste to get away from his obviously lecherous gaze and turned to stride away from him.

  Unwilling to let her get away from him that easily, Angelo leapt from his own chair and strode after her. He caught her wrist and pulled her around to face him. He held up his hands and took a quick step back when she took a swing at him. Though she’d been intent on hitting him, Angelo had to admit a bit of pride that his mate could take care of herself.

  “Whoa, whoa. Forgive me for my unwanted touch upon your person, Miss Young, I merely meant to halt your exit. Please allow me the opportunity to discuss things further with you.” He gestured back to their previously vacated seats and waited with bated breath for her to decide to return to her chair.

  In his father’s days of mating and claiming, a shifter would have simply grabbed his koro spiritu anima and given her the claiming bite, then mounted her, all without her consent or without giving her the opportunity to protest or think. The gods Romolupos and Remulupos had wisely made it that every shifter’s mate: male and female were at the very least attracted and drawn to the shifter for whom they were created. However, for the human mates, who knew nothing of mates or the shifter or paranormal world, courting, wooing, or in this day and age, dating and marriage, were often needed before claiming, bonding, and the claiming bite could occur. In his father’s time, a mere 400 years prior, certain things were not so.

  Angelo sighed silently in relief when Joi huffed in frustrated resignation and walked back over to his chair which remained upright and sat down gracefully. He stepped over to her overturned chair and sat it back down, before taking a seat. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, struggling to turn off the mind of the lustful, needy shifter who desperately wanted to mark its mate so that all shifters in all of creation would know that she belonged to him, and turn on the section of his brain that was all businessman.

  Once he felt sufficiently in control—and decidedly human—once again, Angelo took a breath and looked over at Joi with a small smile that was all business.

  “Now. Let’s talk business.”

  Chapter 3

  Talia listened to the deep voice on the phone and felt revulsion roll through her entire body. How was it possible that he had this much power over her? Over her life? She clenched her fists, wincing only slightly when her nails pierced her palms.

  “Do you understand me, Talia?” he asked her with a growl.

  “Yes, I do, Father,” she replied, clenching her teeth.

  “Good. Your friend…”

  “Joi—” she interrupted.

  “Yes, yes, Joi.” She could envision him waving his hand in that way he had when mentioning something he thought didn’t matter. Which was pretty much anything to do with Talia and her mother. Or pretty much anything but making as much money as possible and getting revenge on his enemies.

  And now he was making Talia get involved.

  I’m so sorry, Joi, but I don’t know what else to do.

  “She is meeting with Growl right now. Whatever you have to do, you make sure she signs that contract. Then we’ll make our move,” he said.

  Talia nodded and swallowed the tears that threatened. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—dare cry. Her father hated it when she gave into her emotions. He thought it was so… human.

  “Yes, Father. I understand.”

  He hung up without another word and Talia looked at the picture on her desk, guilt and determination warring within her. She would betray her best friend in the world because she had to. There was no other choice.

  ***

  Joi looked incredulously at Angelo Marconi as he stared at her with an open expression on his face. She felt slightly uncomfortable in his presence. Not in small part because of the lustful way he’d stared at her breasts earlier and her reaction to it. While she knew he thought she’d been storming from his office because she’d been indignant, and to a small degree she had been, she’d also been leaving because she’d been well… she’d been turned on.

  And that was entirely inappropriate.

  At least it was for the man who was essentially trying to steal her company away from her.

  It was that thought that snapped her back to the conversation at hand. Angelo Marconi was gorgeous. Gorgeous in all the very obvious ways. But he was also extremely shrewd, intelligent, and very business-minded. She didn’t believe for a moment that the contract that had been sent to her had been crafted in error. Nor did she think he would change it simply because he found her attractive. No, if she wanted to negotiate things so that she walked out of that building so that her employees still had jobs and she still maintained control of her company, she would have to try and outthink “The Growling Wolf”.

  No small feat.

  “So, Miss Young…”

  “Please, call me Joi,” she interrupted him with what she hoped was a charming smile on her face and not a calculating one.

  Angelo inclined his head in her direction. “Well, in that case, you must call me Angelo. My father is Mr. Marconi. I must admit, I still have not gotten used to people calling me by that name.”

  Joi laughed, cutting off the noise abruptly when Angelo frowned at her. She realized it must have sounded as fake as it felt to her. She cleared her throat.

  “Surely people calling you Mr. Marconi is better than—” she stopped her words with a pop of her lips and curled them inwards.

  Angelo smirked. “Than The Growling Wolf CEO?” he inquired with a quirk of an eyebrow.

  Joi felt her face flush hot and could only hope that he couldn’t see the slight redness beneath the dark brown shade of her skin. But by the amused look on his face she knew she wasn’t so lucky. Shit, I don’t think my plan to outthink him is going so well, she thought to herself.

  “So… Angelo, about the contract,” she began.

  Angelo nodded. “Yes.” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees and dangling his folded hands between his knees. “The contract sent to you is a standard one sent from WPI to all smaller S or C-corps, or even startups. We are essentially taking on all costs, liabilities, legalities, ideas, manufacturing, etc. and enfolding them within a major operation, thereby freeing you up to pursue any other dreams that you may have, and allowing you to see your original mission, your original goal flourish, expand, and grow.”

 
Joi shook her head. “But you don’t understand, Angelo. You’re also laying off my staff and myself. My staff that have been there from the conception of this dream. They were there from the moment I had this idea. They were there through its birth. They have been with me as I raised it. As I gave it life. As I struggled. When I wanted to give up, they encouraged me to keep going. They have devoted their lives to it just as much as I have. They have given their blood, sweat, and tears just as I have. And while the idea may have been mine, the execution of it belongs to us as a collective. As a whole. I cannot simply turn a blind eye to them because you are offering me a substantial amount of money. No matter what my lawyer says.”

  Angelo nodded and sat back, laying his clasped fingers against what appeared to be a washboard stomach.

  “I acknowledge and applaud your loyalty to your employees, who are obviously friends to you, dare I say—family?” he said with raised eyebrows. Joi nodded and sighed in relief.

  He offered her a small smile in return.

  “Unfortunately, loyalty really has no place in the business of acquisition and sales, Joi. That’s just the reality of the matter. I have seen fathers turn their backs on their sons. Mothers turn their backs on their daughters. Husbands turn their backs on their wives. And vice versa. And even those who initially come to me—via email or phone, never in person as you have done today—with a token protest about loyalty to their people, once they are offered more money, they all eventually give in and sell, all with the promise of even distributing that money amongst their employees and family members… which they never do.” Angelo paused and tilted his head to the side like a dog would do.