But Drake had some moves up his sleeve, too.
As they slammed into the wall, Drake managed to pin Silas beneath him with his back legs. Drake kicked and clawed with his forelegs, tearing through Silas’s abdomen, and came away with gobs of bloody fur in his paws. Early pangs of victory hit Drake’s system, but he didn’t celebrate. Not yet. Drake’s strikes were brutal. Lethal. But the angrier Drake seemed to get, the more Silas seemed to enjoy the fight. He batted away the heavy-pounding strikes of Drake’s paws. Snapped at Drake’s legs. Snorted when Drake missed a mark and rebounded with potentially fatal bites from his own snarling jaws.
It was all or nothing.
Drake went for the kill. With hundreds of years of repressed anger bubbling up inside him, Drake towered over Silas and dropped his muzzle like a hammer onto his neck. But Silas anticipated Drake’s move. Before Drake could sink his fangs into Silas’s flesh, Silas squirmed beneath him, knocking Drake off-kilter.
With a guttural groan, Silas snapped a meaty chunk out of Drake’s neck.
Warm rushes of blood leached the strength from Drake’s muscles.
Out of instinct alone, Drake darted away from Silas to assess his injuries. His breathing was ragged, his heavy heartbeats pounding against his rib cage like war drums. Blood oozed down Drake’s neck, dripped down his chest, and flooded onto to the floor. If he didn’t change back into human form soon, so his injuries could heal during the shift, he was liable to bleed out.
Emelia moaned breathlessly, dragging Drake’s attention to the stage. Her icy blue eyes gripped him, reached through space between them, and struck him like a bolt of lightning.
He had to win this fight. For Emelia. For both of them.
Silas attacked, charging with newfound strength. Drake bounded aside, but he’d lost too much blood. His reactions were slowed, his instincts muddled. Silas slammed into him, knocking Drake to the ground. Drake refused to be on his back, so he scrambled. Kicked. Rolled onto his feet. Silas used Drake’s own move against him, pinning Drake beneath him with his hind legs.
Defending himself, fighting with every last ounce of strength in his body, Drake snapped as Silas lowered himself over him.
…
Emelia couldn’t watch, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Mere seconds ago, Drake had the upper hand in the fight against his psychotic brother, but things had soured so quickly. He’d been bitten, though Emelia felt the pain as if she was the one who’d had Silas’s fangs thrashing in her neck. Drake had lost so much blood, but Emelia felt the effects. She was woozy, her head light, her heart thumping in a hot, wild rush.
Silas rammed Drake to the ground and pinned him. Emelia felt the pain of the bites stinging through her body. Could taste the metallic flavor of Drake’s blood as if it was on her tongue.
She could sense Drake’s strength waning.
As Silas took a second and third bite out of Drake’s neck, Emelia felt a surge of strength unlike anything she’d felt before. Her blood flushed differently through her veins. Her vision cleared to the point she could see air particles floating through the room and dust bunnies settling on the tables.
It wasn’t the physical changes that had Emelia bursting through the ropes on her wrists and ankles. It was the pure, fiery flood of wrath coursing through her.
Time slowed to an impossible halt.
Anger seeped from her pores. Skin shrank over her bones. Her teeth ached, elongated, stretching her gums and brushing against her lips. Her muscles and tendons tightened into knots, shaking and trembling from the sheer force of her transformation. Clothes shed from Emelia’s body as her back arched, and she dropped to all fours. Sleek, white fur flattened across her skin, and her gaze sharpened on Silas.
Hearing her approach, Silas stopped his assault on Drake and craned his neck around to meet her gaze. She was hurting where Drake hurt, feeling more powerful than ever, and hungry for blood.
Instead of attacking her, as Emelia expected, Silas backed away. She continued to stalk forward as he retreated, the excitement of the hunt fueling her on. She wanted him to run so she could follow. She wanted to taunt him, challenge him to get away from her. She felt unusually cocky—odd considering she hadn’t tested out her wolf body yet.
Then Silas went and did the unthinkable. He lowered his muzzle to the floor in a mock bow.
What the hell?
Disappointed she wouldn’t get the chase she craved, Emelia stopped over Drake’s slumped body, her breath coming out in hard pants. Although Drake wasn’t moving, he was alive; she could sense his heartbeat as if it were her own. How long he’d be alive was another question entirely. He’d already lost a lot of blood.
Get up, Drake.
Emelia eyed Silas carefully. His inky black fur and his dark, soulless eyes. Could he understand her if she told him to get the hell out of her bar and never return?
A growl tickled Emelia’s belly, reverberated through her chest and escaped out her lips.
Silas raised his snout off the floor, stared deep into Emelia’s eyes, and lunged for her throat. In a single, adrenaline-sparked move, Emelia clawed at Silas’s jaw, sending him careering to the floor. His massive body slid along the hardwood and knocked into the wall. He hit so hard, the dartboard above his head rattled and shook, dislodged from its hook and toppled onto his head.
Confused, Emelia stared at the damage she’d created from a single swipe of her paw. Silas was bloody. Staring at her in shock and covered in darts and a busted board. Where Silas had hit the wall, there was an enormous hole.
She was strong. More powerful than she could’ve imagined.
Giving a solid shake, Silas clambered to his feet, the hair on the back of his neck rising into in a spiny black mohawk.
Don’t die on me, Drake. I need you.
As if her silent plea awoke something inside him, Drake twitched, moved his feet beneath him, and stood beside her. Fury emanated from his body in hot surges, rippling on the air. The weakness Emelia had felt before was gone. In its place was barely controlled rage bubbling beneath the surface, ready to explode.
Through the haze of what was happening—the sensory overload stemming from her transition, Drake’s anger, the rumble coming from Silas’s chest—streaks of pride tinseled through Emelia’s system. It felt good. Vibrant. It felt…right.
Drake marched forward, one slow paw hitting the hardwood, blood trickling down his legs. Emelia followed, feeling Drake’s unbridled fury as her own. Step by step they closed in on Silas.
They created a united front. Stronger together. Never to be separated again.
As Drake growled, vibrating the floor beneath their feet, Silas’s shoulders gave a hard twitch. His muzzle quirked and his gaze shifted to the door as a horde of howling packmates burst through, ripping it off its hinges. They corned Silas, bumped into him with their massive chests, and brought him to his belly with brute force.
Reinforcements had arrived.
Mr. Bloomfield strode through the door in their wake, dressed in a suit and tie as if he’d stepped from a board meeting into the fray. “Silas Wilder, you’re under arrest for attempting to murder Drake Wilder, Alpha to the Seattle wolf pack, and Emelia Wilder, his mated female.”
Silas whimpered against the ground as the wolves towered over him smashed him into the floor. There was nothing Silas could do. There were too many packmates, and they moved like an angry mob, swallowing everything in their wake.
So this was the pack family that Drake had told her about. They really did stand up for one another, didn’t they? She’d never felt more relieved, or more protected, in all her life.
As Mr. Bloomfield and the packmates escorted Silas out the broken door, Drake crumbled. It’d been too much. He’d challenged Silas and fought at Emelia’s side when he didn’t have the strength to do either.
Emelia knelt over Drake and nudged him with her nose. Sighing into a full body shudder, Drake opened his eyes. They were soft black, warm and tender, pierci
ng Emelia’s heart. He shifted back to human form. Right beneath her legs. Naked and shivering, Drake reached up and brushed his hand down the slope of her face. Even through her fur, she could feel the pads on his fingers, the warmth of his palm, and the love behind his touch.
“Hello beautiful,” Drake said, smiling. His wounds healed right before her eyes. His skin went from bloody to pink, his tissue from marred to bronze, sculpted muscle. “You’re magnificent, though I didn’t doubt you’d be amazing in this form, too.”
Emelia nudged his palm, letting a little whimper escape her chest. How did she shift back? Would she be stuck this way for the length of the full moon?
“An ambulance is on the way,” Mr. Bloomfield said from the doorway. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
Drake stroked Emelia’s nose, and scrubbed the fur behind her ears. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Mr. Bloomfield left the bar as sirens wailed in the distance.
“I never thought I’d get to see you again.” Drake stroked Emelia’s fur, her chest. She could sense his strength returning each passing second. “I’m so sorry about what happened between us. I was beyond stupid. I should’ve never bought that bar behind your back and I should’ve supported you in this. That was wrong, so wrong. I should have followed you out that door.”
No, she shouldn’t have left in the first place.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “None of the blame is yours.”
He could read her thoughts! She wasn’t sure how or why the concept came easier to her now—perhaps it was because now that she’d shifted she could easily see herself as a part of his pack. Whatever the reason, Emelia’s chest warmed. She’d done it. She’d shifted. And everything was going to be okay.
“I was wrong to try to convince you to get rid of this place,” he said. “It’s a part of you…you love it…which means I love it, too.”
Emelia’s heart overflowed, melting with joy. She’d thought that giving up the Knight Owl meant that she would be giving up her dream, her independence, and a little part of herself in the process. She’d always been the queen of overreaction and had blown things way out of proportion. To top off her ridiculousness, she’d fallen for a businessman…and had gotten mad at him when he talked business.
“I’ll never try to force you into something again,” he said, stroking her belly. “You can drive your Civic, work late hours here, and we can live wherever you want.”
She really didn’t care where she lived, as long as it was at his side. She never wanted to leave him again. How would they work out the fact that she’d run the Knight Owl and he’d run Wilder Financial? They’d still work in different worlds, wouldn’t they? Is that what she wanted?
“I’ve already thought about that. I brought something for you that might help,” he said, sliding from beneath her. He strode to where his shredded pants lay in a heap on the floor and dug around in his pocket. “Here,” he said, straightening a piece of paper and holding it out in front of her.
What was it? She couldn’t tell.
“It’s your two-week notice. I don’t want my wife, my soul mate, and my life partner working as my personal secretary. It’s important that you see yourself how I see you: as my equal.”
Oh, Drake. She was never cut out for the secretary gig. But now, when she was faced with the concept of leaving, she wasn’t sure. It’d be nice to see him every day. To work alongside him.
“Then you will,” Drake said, addressing her concerns. “Stand beside me as you did just now. Work alongside me. Be my partner in every sense of the word. I didn’t realize it before, but if we mixed my business sense with your personal flair, we just might take Seattle by storm.”
Emelia’s heart went light. She quivered with the desire to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers. As she pinched her eyes shut, thinking about Drake and the future they’d have together, her body trembled and her skin heated sun-scorching hot. She shifted back to human form and jumped into Drake’s arms.
He dropped the paper to the ground, cradled her head against him, and spun her around. “You did it,” he said. “You figured out how to change back on your own.”
“I just thought of you.” She kissed him openmouthed and slipped her tongue past his lips. Their mouths moved in a dance she didn’t want to end. When Drake pulled back to get some air, Emelia said, “For a second there, I thought Silas was going to run from the fight. I thought he was going to back down.”
“He realized the bond between us made us stronger. It made you stronger.” Drake massaged her back, soothing away the worry and stress.
“But how’s that possible? I mean, you guys are three hundred years old and I just learned how to shift. I’m a baby, or a pup, or whatever you’d call it.”
His hand brushed her cheek. “Newly transitioned werewolves are uncharacteristically strong for the first hundred years of their life. Mesh that with being mated to me, and you’re pretty special.”
“You mean that I’m stronger because I’ve bonded with you?”
“You’re my Luminary. There’s a piece of you in me, and a piece of me in you. That gives you strength he could never understand.”
“So it’s over?” She dared to breathe deep.
“It’s over.” He kissed her. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“You’re heaven-sent.” Her heart hammered wildly. “But aren’t you even a little upset about losing your father’s estate to Silas?”
“I have you,” Drake said. “It’s all I want, and all I need. Besides, we didn’t lose everything. We still have this place and Wilder Financial.”
“Yeah,” she said, realizing that he put the Knight Owl before his own business. It was actually going to work. They’d be happy, blissfully in love. “And we’ve got seven hundred years to be together. It still won’t be long enough, but I’ll take it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHRISTMAS DAY, ONE MONTH LATER
“Watch your step,” Drake said, leading Emelia down the long, winding hall in the basement of his Seattle mansion.
Their home, she corrected, smiling inside.
The blindfold covering Emelia’s eyes slipped a bit, but didn’t give away whatever Drake was hiding. “The last time you blindfolded me it didn’t go over too well,” she said. “You sure you want to do this?”
“The last time I blindfolded you, I was a jackass.” Drake guided her around a corner. “Thanks to you, I’ve thoroughly learned my lesson.”
Stealing behind her, Drake looped his arms around Emelia’s waist and tugged her against him. One step at a time, he led her into a room that smelled sweetly of vanilla and wine.
The wine cellar.
“Okay,” he said, excitement lacing his voice. “You can look.”
Emelia yanked the blindfold down and gasped. He’d turned the wine cellar into a romantic sanctuary, with a plush red blanket strewn on the floor, pillows leaning against the wine racks, and tea light candles flickering in the dark. There had to be hundreds of tiny lights scattered on the marble-topped tables, the hardwood floor, and the wooden ledge of the rack.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, leaning her head back on Drake’s chest. “Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas.” He spun her around, keeping her tucked against his body, and caught her mouth. He embraced her full-bodied, hip to hip, mouth to mouth, dizzying her as his tongue swept past her lips. The kiss buzzed down to Emelia’s toes—she’d never tire of the feelings Drake gave her.
She pulled back, gazing deep into her husband’s eyes. He was her greatest wish…one she didn’t think she’d ever receive. He was everything she never knew she wanted. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“I thought we could exchange presents down here, before dinner.”
“Okay,” she said, unsure how Drake would respond when she gave him his gift. Luckily, she’d brought his gift with her.
“I’ve wanted to give this to
you for a while.” He dug around in the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a small box wrapped in sparkly silver wrapping, tied with a fluffy red bow. “But I thought tonight would be perfect. Do you realize we met almost two months ago today?”
Her insides tingled as she took the box and twirled it in her hand. “Drake…”
“Open it.”
She untied the bow and let it fall, then tore through the wrapping. A black velvet box remained in the palm of her hand. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but Emelia knew what came in tiny black velvety boxes. Hands shaking, Emelia unhinged the lid and opened it. Her eyes met Drake’s as tears began to fall.
“Drake, it’s…it’s beautiful.” Her throat constricted. She couldn’t speak.
“Do you really like it?”
The ring was big and sparkling and the exact opposite of what she would’ve picked for herself. A two-carat round diamond rose from the center of the ring and was surrounded by brilliant diamond clusters that wrapped around the band. It was breathtaking. The fact that he’d picked it for her, that he’d envisioned this ring on her finger when he perused hundreds of other rings, made Emelia’s heart skip a beat.
When her eyes met Drake’s again, he was kneeling in front of her. The sight almost buckled her.
“I know it’s not something you would normally wear,” he said, “but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, just like I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the first time we met. From the first moment I met you, I’ve been completely, insanely captivated by your radiance.”
Stomach in her throat, Emelia gazed at the ring. It was elaborate, and greater than her wildest dreams. It was Drake.
Holding her hand, Drake took the ring and poised it at the tip of her finger. “This ring is a promise of my love to you, Emelia. It’s a symbol of my unending love, and my desire to make you happy until the end of your days.”
As he slipped the ring on her finger, Emelia choked back tears. The ring fit snugly. Perfectly. When she held up her hand to see the diamond sparkle, she saw Drake. A part of him fitting perfectly on her finger, as he fit perfectly in her heart and in her life.
Gone with the Wolf Page 18
