The Werewolf Tycoon’s Secret Baby
Saranna DeWylde
Contents
Cover Page
Author’s Note
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
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Books by Saranna DeWylde
Writing as Sara Lunsford
Writing as Sara Wylde
Writing as Sara Arden
About the Author
The Werewolf Tycoon’s Secret Baby
The Woolven Secret 2
by
Saranna DeWylde
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and don’t be a dick.
Published in the United States of America by
Saranna DeWylde © 2016
Cover Art by Saranna DeWylde
Stock Photo: Dreamstime
Author’s Note
Isn’t The Werewolf Tycoon’s Secret Baby just the best title? I mean, I had to write this book for the title alone. I couldn’t help it. The world of The Woolven Secret just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I couldn’t be happier. As all these little twists and turns make themselves known to me, it’s such an adventure. I hope you fall in love with Drew and Emmie, just like I did.
Also, I know you guys waited a long time for this book and I’m sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be the best book it could be and I’m finally happy with the results. I appreciate your love and support so much.
Gin is for you, Virg. Thank you for being a magical sugar fairy.
Chapter One
The first thing Drew Woolven noticed about the kid outside the small artisan chocolate shop was that he had to be part demon. Kid was a complete holy terror.
His knuckles stung in remembrance of the jill-of-all-trades witch, Mrs. Westwood, who’d helped raise Drew and his brothers. If he’d even considered behaving like that kid, his knuckles would’ve been bloody for a week. Or worse, she have forced him to Change, trapped him in his wolf form and left him tied to a tree outside with only kibble and water until he learned how to behave properly.
Observing the child again, he concluded that he would’ve been on the business end of a newspaper, too. There was nothing more humiliating than being swatted with a newspaper and treated like a puppy.
Terrible little bastard. Drew shook his head.
As a matter of course, he wasn’t overly fond of the creatures in a general sense—sup or natural. He’d be pleased to play the doting uncle once Blake and Randi decided to have pups. He’d let them climb all over him, take them running, teach them how to shift, fill them up with sugar, and then send them home. He didn’t do diapers, bedtimes, or…this.
The boy had to be about five. Where was his mother? Didn’t she know kids could get snatched and terrible things could happen to them? Although, he kind of pitied anyone who snatched this kid. They’d have their hands full.
To be fair, crime was mostly non-existent in Den Hollow. The Woolvens treated the town as if all of its residents as if they were family. Not only was it the right thing to do, but a well-loved and protected community didn’t question the needs or habits of the eccentric family that provided the lifeblood of the town. Its residents were either other kinds of supes or supe friendly. Like Gin Goodwich, the genius behind Which Sweet, and the magic chocolate that made Drew the happiest of beasties.
And contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t a witch at all, but a sugar fairy. She’d fled to Den Hollow after being held captive by bone fairies, using her to rot the teeth of children and steal them in the night.
Speaking of kids, the current one attracting Drew’s attention had climbed behind the counter and was rubbing all of the champagne truffles—Drew’s favorite and reason for sponsoring the shop—into his blond hair that had sadly been cut into the shape of a bowl.
His mother should be taken to task for the hair alone.
Where was the woman?
Or, he grudgingly admitted, it was more likely the kid was out with some absent father. Mandatory time, as he’d seen with his friends in prep school. The man probably just didn’t know how to handle him and the kid himself didn’t know how to get any attention, besides the bad kind.
All in all, a bad lot. But not Drew’s fault and it wasn’t fair to deny him the champagne truffles just because of their family angst. His wolf was strangely silent. In his youth, he’d been known to bite a person who tried to get between him and his chocolate. He was relieved that he had no urge to bite the child. There were some things one just didn’t do.
A strange scent hit him. Something familiar and warm. It was at war with the shrieking of the kid as Gin separated him from his bounty with a practiced hand.
The scent reminded him of the summer he spent in Santorini. Long days on the beach, nights spent on the water under the stars, and there’d been no responsibility. Nothing for him to do except be. He’d read so many books simply for the pleasure of reading, not because his tutors told him to. He’d eaten so much lamb, if he’d had a human metabolism he’d have been fat as a suckling pig.
And there’d been a woman. Of course there’d been a woman, there was always a woman. She’d been so beautiful. He remembered her long blond hair, wavy with salt water, pale streaks bleached white by the sun, and her tan skin, her long legs and her laugh… he’d been completely captivated by her. She’d been interested him, not because he was Drew Woolven, billionaire. Or Drew Woolven, Beta to Blake. He was just Andrew Phillips, a guy she met on the beach on vacation.
She smelled like summer, honey and apples.
Goddess, every time he thought about that night when she’d tasted like honey and apples too—the beach, and the stars… He’d never met another woman like her.
That was the scent taunting him now—honey, apples and Emmie.
“God, Gin. I’m so sorry. You know how he gets.” She shook her head. “I’ll pay for everything he ate.” She sighed heavily. “Noah Phelan Anderson.”
Her tone was sharp, but calm and the boy immediately stopped struggling, hung his head and, when placed on his feet, trudged over to Emmie.
This was Emmie’s son.
Emmie from Santorini.
Emmie, the woman he thoug
ht he’d never see again. Beautiful, brilliant, sweet Emmie. He couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him.
With a son.
Someone else had claimed her, someone else made love to her, someone else—he cut the thoughts out of his head like a cancer. Emmie was human. She was never meant for him. He exhaled slowly.
“Gin, I’ll take care of the cost.” Drew found his voice, speaking to the rainbow-haired shop owner.
“That’s really not necessary, I—” Emmie broke off as her eyes raised ever so slowly to his face. “Andrew,” she gasped.
“We’re a long way from Santorini.” He smiled at her.
“Santorini?” Gin’s eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” The little blond boy looked up at his mother and tugged on her hand, chocolate all over his little face and in his hair.
“I know. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” She picked him up.
He looked so sad, his expression completely at odds with his earlier behavior. Maybe he wasn’t a little demon after all. Poor little guy. He seemed to really be contrite for his behavior.
She picked him up, but he squirmed to get one last look at the chocolate and, for a second, his brown eyes seemed amber.
But that had to be a trick of the light.
Emmie was human. Her son wouldn’t… he didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. That was insane.
Wasn’t it?
The kid had a mighty love for those truffles. Almost as if he couldn’t control himself.
Then he saw it. The crescent moon birthmark on his wrist that was just like Drew’s own.
Chapter Two
No, no, no, and more no.
Andrew from Santorini couldn’t be in Den Hollow. He just couldn’t.
Emmie didn’t bother to make any excuses for her exit from the chocolate shop, she simply fled with Noah like the hounds of hell slavered at her heels. She kept expecting Andrew to chase her, to demand some kind of answer, but he didn’t.
And she was relieved.
What was he doing in Den Hollow anyway? Andrew was an art student and… and why did he look even better than he had on Santorini? She sighed. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
It shocked Emmie that a man like him had been interested in her, even for a vacation fling. He looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ and she… well, she looked her age. Not that thirty-eight was necessarily bad, but it was a hard thirty-eight in her opinion.
She was hyper-conscious of the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, ever aware of the straying grey roots in a starburst at her brow each time her color grew out, and always critical of the cellulite she saw when studied herself in the mirror. Her breasts, while full and well-formed, had never been what could be described as “perky.” Neither time nor nursing had done much to improve their love/hate relationship with gravity. Nor had childbirth done much for her stomach.
In spite of all that, Emmie knew she was pretty—that when she dressed up people took notice and men still looked at her—but she wasn’t the kind of Cosmo model she’d imagine playing in the surf with a guy like Andrew.
She briefly imagined being naked in front of him now. Like hell that would happen.
A couple years looked good on him, but her? Not so much. She’d had hard enough time being naked in front of him at thirty-eight. At forty-four after having a baby? If things had ever been inclined to snap back in her youth, they definitely weren’t going to in middle age.
She sighed.
As if.
But damn if Santorini wasn’t one of her favorite memories. The way he’d touched her—it had been like there was only the two of them in the whole world. He’d taken his time, and he’d made her feel so beautiful.
Emmie had been nothing but happy when she discovered she was pregnant, but she hadn’t looked for him. Hadn’t wanted more from him that what he’d given her—the child she’d always wanted.
“Enough of your head in the clouds, my dear.” She scolded herself aloud. Emmie needed to nag Noah into the tub and get all that chocolate out of his hair—unless he’d transformed and licked most of it off.
If chocolate was bad for dogs, was it bad for baby werewolves, too? She felt guilty for having the thought, but consoled herself. This was all new territory for her. And how would she explain her concerns to the pediatrician? Or was it better to go to a vet? Actually, she probably needed a witch. Her phone rang and interrupted her self-recrimination. It was Gin. If she didn’t answer, the fairy would just come over. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, since Gin was better at coaxing Noah into the tub.
Hell, what was she going to do if she had to leave Den Hollow and the life she’d just started to winnow out for them?
“Hey,” she said by way of greeting.
“You didn’t tell me that Noah’s father was a Woolven,” Gin accused.
“He’s not.” She froze. “Is he?”
“That was Drew Woolven who was in my shop, so yeah, honey. I’d say he is.”
“Drew Freaking Woolven. As in… Billionaire Drew Woolven? As in…” she gulped dramatically “Wolfen Woolven?”
“Yes, that one.”
Gin sounded way too cheery, and not just because she was a sugar fairy.
“I don’t think you understand what this means for me.” Panic clawed at her throat.
“It means that the demonling,” Gin said affectionately, “is the Woolven heir. It means you don’t need to worry about asking your sister-in-law for a loan. It means that you’re getting bitten.” Gin giggled. “In the very best way.”
That panic turned to terror, but Emmie clamped down hard and forced herself to be calm. “How about we remember I’m Queen Fuck No of Central Nopestania. How about that?”
“Girl, I’d pay all the gold in my wee Uncle Fergus’s pot at the end of the rainbow for one night with a Woolven.” Gin paused. “Well, maybe not Parker because I’d feel like a dirty old witch with a gingerbread house trying to get strapping lads to lick my marshmallows.” She paused again. “But on second thought, I might be okay with that.”
This was almost too much for Emmie to process. When she’d first discovered Noah’s affliction, she’d thought it was something from her side of the family. She’d never stopped to consider that the man in Greece was a werewolf.
As soon as she caught Noah looking like the most adorable teddy bear Pomeranian puppy, she’d taken him and fled into the darkness of the night. Because even though she’d divorced Peter Breslin, if he’d discovered her son was anything other than human, he’d kill them both.
Lenore, at least, was reasonable. Her ex-sister-in-law had been the one to help her get away from Peter to begin with.
“You’ve gone dead silent, Emmie. What’s going on?” Gin asked.
“Just thinking.”
“Yeah, I can hear your gears turning from here. There’s more you’re not telling me.”
“I think you’d better come over. It’s a long story, and… and I don’t want it to change the way you see me.”
“It’s not like you sold me to the bone fairies. How bad can it be?”
“Bad. Really bad.”
“I’ll have to do it later because Woolven Number Two is on his way over to your house right now.”
“Shit.” She debated running.
“Don’t run. They like the chase much too much,” Gin warned.
“It’s like you read my mind.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’d cut and run.”
“Shit,” Emmie swore again.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Noah repeated.
“Hush, don’t say that. It’s a bad word.”
“Shit, shit, shit…” he babbled happily and started stripping off his clothes.
She was torn. Usually, Emmie had to literally wrestle him out of his clothes to get him to take a bath. She decided she’d rather he have a clean face and a dirty mouth. His new favorite word wouldn’t stain the couch.
Maybe if she didn’t act like it was a big deal, he’d stop?
“Shit, shit, shit, shit…sheeeee---ittttttt.” He cackled.
Oh, she was screwed.
“You still there, Emmie?”
“Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll call you later. By the way, did you have to give him my address?”
“I didn’t. He’s following your scent.”
“Gross.”
“It is what it is. Call me later.” The fairy hung up.
Well, she guessed it was time to face the music. Really, she could just tell him—what if he was angry? What if he Changed right there in the full light of day and ripped her apart because he was so angry?
She’d never been up close and personal with a Changed werewolf before, aside from Noah. He was adorable and his little teeth never broke the skin. But Drew was a full-grown male with all the testosterone and rage…
Emmie swallowed hard. She tried to remember that he’d never hurt her in Santorini.
God, what had she done? He’d seemed so… harmless. Well, not harmless, but… he was an art student for fuck’s sake. Art students talked about arches and sculpture, they studied form and function, they read poetry and sought out the higher pleasures.
They did not turn in to hairy predators that ripped normal people to pieces.
Noah looked up at her from the bath where he rubbed the shampoo diligently into his hair. “Do we have to move again, Mama?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You smell scared. Don’t be scared.”
“Okay, Noah. You just take your bath and I won’t be scared.”
“Promise?” His big amber eyes glittered. “I’ll protect you.” He beat on his little chest with his even smaller fist.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. The idea of her little baby already feeling these things, already marking his territory and getting ready to fight to protect what was his made her want to bawl.
The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby (The Woolven Secret Book 2) Page 1
