Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--The Novel (A Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Romance)

by Aames, Aimélie

  "Yessir, you got it."

  Flair hung up, then chuckled as he thought of the two women waiting for Braze to arrive.

  It's going to take longer than you think, boss. He had heard how angry Agate still was with Braze, but behind that and the surprise that the big wolf himself was coming to blow down their door, he had heard something else. Two things, in fact.

  Self satisfaction. And, hunger.

  Not if they can help it.

  Flair keyed the engine on, slipped his sunglasses onto his face, and rolled for the police station where he knew he was going to have to wait a little while for the party to start.

  That was okay, though. He was used to it. A whole other kind of party was going to get going without him and that was just fine. As he remembered them, the Twins were mighty fine chickas, but they had a mean streak a hundred miles long. Big bad wolf or not, Brazier Abraxis was about to have women troubles right up to his chinny chin chin.

  There was a smaller door inset in the larger corrugate steel door. It was the kind of thing built for allowing entire trucks to enter the building and have their freight discharged directly to storage.

  Hardly a place where one might expect to find two beautiful, if feral, women.

  Braze did not doubt what Flair had told him, though. The young man was as trustworthy as the day is long. And, for that matter, he was a member of the alpha wolf's inner circle, what the urban wolves seemed helpless from forming. Lacking a larger, extended pack, they formed small knots of closely tied individuals while the whole of the race remained largely scattered throughout the urban landscape.

  They were almost nothing like their forest brethren. Braze would have preferred otherwise, but if wolves were one thing, it was that they were fluid in their adaptability. Just as their wild cousins, only it was in the world of modern men that they had chosen for their realm.

  Not all of them, though, sought to ally themselves with other urban wolves. There were some that did not recognize his authority as pack leader. Those shifters lived outside of the ancient laws and that made them unpredictable.

  It made them dangerous.

  The Twins were the perfect example of this. Perhaps, even, the two women were the new face of the urban wolves' future. Even less recognizable, yet maybe no less effective among mankind.

  Unless even they are fooled by their own camouflage, he thought. That is a danger as insidious as any brought by our enemies.

  Other wolves had accused him of it. They had said he and his kind had lost themselves among the humans. They had suggested that their memories had grown thin and that little or nothing of the true wolf remained within them.

  Braze knew they were wrong. Adapting to the wilder-lands of concrete and macadam was simply another way for werewolves to flourish while hidden. He would have liked to convince the others of this simple truth, but even he sometimes wondered if the thinking of men had found its way into his logic and left no room for what the forest wolves valued most...their instincts.

  The smaller door squealed as it opened with only a slight push of his hand. Rusted hinges announced a visitor's presence as well as any home's doorbell.

  He stepped inside and was immediately assaulted with the thick odors of old engine oil, sawdust and grime. Wolfish eyes adjusted quickly to the dim interior as he picked up another scent beneath those of the abandoned warehouse. Tropical and light...feminine.

  Coconut oil, perhaps with a hint of cucumber, both odors suddenly growing in intensity as an abrupt sound broke the silence.

  There was a sound like a pair of firecrackers just as fire blazed upon his wrists, then low, at his ankles, something burning hot wrapped round him then drew tight.

  Braze heard a grunt, then felt his arms drawn back hard at the same time his ankles were dragged in the opposite direction.

  "Oh yeah...we gotcha now," a woman's voice said from one side of him.

  "And we h'aint lettin' go, neither," he heard from the opposite side.

  Black, braided leather was wrapped around his extremities. The fine, tapered ends of bullwhips expertly wielded held him fast and were drawing tighter by the second.

  The women had been waiting for him to step through the door and were now fixing the handles of each whip into cranking, cargo pulleys. In their graceful fingers, the two spun the cranks fast, drawing the last of the slack out and forcing the alpha wolf's limbs spread wide.

  "You left us high and dry, remember?"

  A long legged beauty stepped before him. Her pink tongue slipped out from between lips colored a purple so deep they were nearly black. Long lashes and almond-shaped eyes took him in with a regard that slipped between deep, rich greys to a color of brown and burgundy.

  "Agate," Braze said, nodding to the woman, "I had expected a somewhat warmer welcome."

  She nodded and despite the pressing circumstances, he could not help but follow the line of her chin to a plunging neckline and on down to her heavy, full breasts.

  “Yeah...well, we had short notice so this’s the best we could do,” she said, then leaned closer to him. Despite the urgency that had driven him to them, Braze's senses were on fire and he could not help but remark her pounding heartbeat and the answering heat it stoked within him.

  "Don't get too close...not yet," a second voice said. The sound was low and delicious coming from the throat of the other woman.

  Braze opened his mouth, meaning to explain to them that there was no time for any of this, when a black rubber ball was shoved between his lips then drawn tight within its shining chain harness that the woman named Opal fastened behind his head.

  She stepped from behind Braze and pulled off a pair of thick leather gloves that went to her elbows.

  "Ope...what's with the welder's mitts?" Agate asked.

  The other woman shook her head, thick black hair rustling about her shoulders as she did it and said, "Oh, it's just a little something to keep him calm."

  Agate started to nod, then snapped her head back to look at the other one, her eyes wide.

  "Wait. That thing's not made with silver is it?"

  "And what if it is?" replied Opal, "You and I both know that if Mister Big decides to shift, no amount of leather is goin' to make him stay put.

  "Either we do it right, Aggie, or we don't do it period."

  Eyes so blue they bordered on white and silver looked the other woman up and down, daring her to back away from what increasingly felt like a very bad move, but Agate did not flinch.

  "Ok...so we do this," she said under her breath, then went straight for Braze's belt and zipper, shucking his pants down like a corn husk.

  Agate went to her knees before him, then looked up and said, "As I remember it, you owe us a good time, Sparky."

  Her words turned into a low growl as she dropped her head and opened her mouth wide to take him, all of him, between her lips.

  Braze's words were stifled with black rubber and he could feel the sickening touch of the silver chains that held it in place locking him into human form. His anger blazed like an inferno, each passing second taking Sara further away from him, and he could do nothing as the woman before him brought him up rigid with unwanted desire while she used her talented mouth upon him.

  Opal, her skin powdered snow white, surveyed them both cooly, then walked behind Braze.

  He could feel the heat of her body as she leaned forward to speak into his ear.

  "Sooner or later, baby, we always get our way. You get in the way of that and it only makes us mad. But what's worse is that we nevuh forget, sugar. Nevuh..."

  He felt her step back from him then heard a crack at the same time heat blazed upon his back.

  "Rumor has it that you like it twisted, right Sparky? Smack 'em around a little, then sex 'em up and beat 'em some more."

  Another lash ripped across his back and despite everything, Braze could feel himself jerk hard between Agate's lips as she took him in long, deep strokes all the way to the back of her throat.

  "S
o, we decided to turn it around on you...give you a taste of your own medicine."

  Her voice was shaking and he knew she held nothing back as she struck him again. Hard, yet springing back after the object bent across his skin, Braze was sure that it was a rider's crop in the woman's hands.

  And, amidst the heat rippling upon his skin, he could feel something cool trickling down in rivulets that were almost soothing. His own blood dripped under her punishment.

  “Oh,” said Opal, “Ummm, Agate, he’s not healing....”

  The woman on the floor slipped his member from her mouth and replied, “Well no, you dumb ass. It’s the silver. If he can’t shift, he sure as hell isn’t going to heal either.”

  Agate plunged forward to take him once more and Opal struck him again with the crop, only he could feel that she had lessened the force she used and had dropped lower, nearly to his buttocks.

  A long tongue slipped down his length and pressed upward, pinning his cock to the roof of her mouth, then she pulled back slowly before taking him in deep again.

  The crop struck lower still across his buttocks and a tongue twirled around his member lifting him up as his hips shifted involuntarily forward.

  With the little discipline left to him, Braze knew that he must regain control before it was too late, before none of it mattered any more.

  So, he began to pull. Hard.

  Opal hesitated, then said, “Aggie...I think we’ve got a problem.”

  Despite his inability to take on his wolfish form, Braze remained an exquisitely muscular man and even as a human, his strength was redoubtable.

  Black leather was drawn taut from his wrists, so much so that he could no longer feel his hands, but Braze pulled with both arms. He did it gradually, then released his efforts all at once, then did it again and again.

  The braided leather began to bunch then narrow again with each of his efforts. And then, it began to fray.

  A single black strand popped with a dull sound, followed by another just after.

  The shifter named Opal said in nearly a whisper, “Agate...get back. I mean, right now.”

  The rider’s crop clattered to the floor as one of the bull whips broke with the sound of a bass string plucked by a giant’s hand.

  Then Braze’s freed hand was at his face, hooking his fingers under the fine silver chain holding the ball gag in place. He snapped it easily then flung it to the side before reaching down with a wolf’s speed to ensnarl his hand in Agate’s long hair.

  “You underestimate me. Now finish, bitch, or I shall snap your neck like a dry twig.”

  His voice was a terrible growl as his fury brought the wolf out from hiding. Thick muscles rippled while fur grew instantly across his skin. Backed away in to a corner, Opal saw that his color ran between deep greys and blacks, following the complex pattern of his tattoos perfectly.

  There was a second twang as he broke the bullwhip from his other arm, then both hands were in Agate’s hair.

  She looked up at him, seeing a half shifted wolf man towering over her. His deep amber eyes had lightened into gleaming shades of silver and yellow, as if the moon herself had slipped into the warehouse with him. But what rang fear through her like a stricken alarm bell were the bared fangs she saw gleaming white and so very long in the dim light.

  In a flash, she calculated her options. Her first instinct was to shift and bite down hard. Her second instinct was of self preservation and she knew that the powerful hands that held her as much a prisoner as he had been only moments before, those same hands would wrench her head around and the last thing she would ever see would be her own backside. That was not an image she was dying to see.

  With as much fervor as her sudden terror would allow, Agate resumed her ministrations and did what she could to forget the danger of the angry wolf’s fury.

  She lapped at him then took his balls in her hand and rolled them across her palm. Her agile tongue wrapped around his head, then pulled back before plunging forward to draw him in deep.

  Agate did it several times until she could feel his sack drawing up, his balls turning on their own. She felt his thighs go rigid, then with a growling gasp, he was pumping into her mouth in great, hot gouts.

  Braze did not release her as he orgasmed, forcing himself into her throat to give her more than her fill.

  And when he was done, he pulled her back from him by her hair and said, “This foolishness is over. That you dared use silver against me is enough to see both of you condemned by all of our brethren.

  “However, instead of seeing you imprisoned by our own kind, I declare whatever debt you think you are owed more than paid. On the contrary, now it is you who are indebted to me.”

  The wolf still upon him, Braze broke the leather restraining his legs then crooked a finger at Opal still cowering in the corner.

  “As it is, I require your services. Both of you.”

  ~~~

  Even though her arms were pulled nearly out of their sockets and Sara knew that her hands had gone dangerously numb from the rope cutting off her circulation, she could not stop feeling as though she had fallen down a very deep hole.

  And from down there, deep inside a black crevasse within her own mind, what happened to the woman hanging in an abandoned barn, far from anyone who might hear her screams for help, did not matter. She felt safer, far removed from the monstrosity that had come creeping from out of her not-so-distant past.

  The man who had been a respected county deputy, now a broken faced, drooling creature, was looking her up and down with a large hunting knife in one hand.

  “Don’t worry, baby. This here pig sticker is just for gettin’ you in the clear.”

  Half of his face hung slack and drawn as he guffawed at his own horrid humor.

  “Clear outta them clothes, I mean,” he finished with a laugh that hitched in his throat causing him to gag and cough before, finally, hacking up something bloody to spit onto the barn’s wooden floor.

  “Oops...looks like I forgot the straw this time around,” he said, looking owlishly about himself with a frown, almost as if he had been drinking.

  But alcohol was not his problem. Far from it. Rather, his troubles came from pale fingers and a faceless creature who had gotten inside his brains.

  “A little too far, mebbe....” he mumbled, then spat blood again.

  Fear trickled through Sara. The vampire’s power to remove her will and turn her into a jointless puppet was waning.

  She could feel it.

  Only she did not want it to. Sara wanted to be an uninvolved spectator to the horrific things that were about to take place. To be aloof, separate, as if simply watching a bad film at the cinema which would be much, much better than admitting to herself that the man who had beaten her senseless more times than she could count had at last wandered over the blurry edge of his own tenuous sanity.

  What was worse than anything, though, was that she felt herself being buoyed up and out of the security of detachment. As he reached for the waistband of her skirt, his fingers fumbled and she felt the bite of the hunting knife. The flesh it had opened was her own and before she could push herself back down into darkness, her throat opened in a scream.

  Jackson Woodard startled as he heard her voice and Sara felt the blade part her skin a second time.

  There was heat running down her thigh as he said, “Whoa there, little darling. You jump around like that and yer bound to get nicked.”

  He patted her leg then said, “‘Sides, it’s just a scratch.” He hesitated, then added, “Two scratches, I guess.”

  Sara’s skirt fluttered to the floor under her dangling feet as she moaned.

  It felt as though the muscles of her mouth had gone completely asleep and it took her several tries before she could say a word.

  “Sonny. Please. Don’t do this...please.”

  Jackson nodded his head then was forced to lift his hand to his face to still himself, nearly taking out his remaining good eye with the knife as
he did.

  “Always was just you, Sara girl, that called me ‘Sonny’. It’s crazy but I forgot all about that.”

  His head still bobbed slightly as he looked up at her.

  “How could I forget that, I wonder?”

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief as she heard what she thought was tenderness in his voice.

  “It doesn’t matter, Sonny. As long as you remember it now and how it was during the good times that I called you that. Back when it was good between us...do you remember that, too?”

  She could see that he seemed to have been stricken hard with some sort of paralysis, or even, a stroke. One side of his face hung down, drooping like a sick hound’s face, and one of his eyes seemed to have turned almost entirely black. At first she thought his eye had somehow filled with blood, but then realized that it was because his pupil had opened up so wide it swallowed up all color.

  Something was very wrong with the madman standing next to her, a deadly sharp hunting knife still in one hand.

  “How could I forget that?” he said again as if he had not heard what she said.

  Then he was coming at her and one half of his mouth was twisted up in a sickening grin as he said, “Don’t matter. Like you say. But I sure as hell didn’t forget you ran out on me, Sara, and for that you got some ‘splainin to do.”

  Snick went the knife along her back and Sara felt cold air rush in as her blouse parted along her spine. She felt a slight tug, then her bra straps were cut away as if they were no more substantial than the gossamer strands of a fresh morning spiderweb.

  “Sonny wait...just wait,” she said in a rush, “I can explain. If you let me.”

  He made a gurgling sound in response and Sara felt sickened when she realized he was trying to laugh.

  “Let you? Oh, Sara honey, by the time I’m done you’ll tell me all about it.”

  Again came that horrid gurgling sound.

  “Hell, you’ll be makin’ shit up before I’m through, just so’s you don’t run out of stuff to tell me.”

  There was a clattering sound, and with relief, Sara realized that he had let the hunting knife fall to the floorboards.