Claimed By the Wolf (BWWM Erotic Paranormal Romance) (The White Wolf Billionaire Book 1)

by Candi Jackson

  * * *

  None of this made any sense. None of it!

  A werewolf baby? In my womb? I kept bursting out into hysterical, desperate laughs when I thought about it. This was not how I had planned on having my first child. I’d wanted to be married, settled into my career as a nurse, if not a doctor, and then, when the timing was right, and we had money in place for expenses, then Avon and I would stop using raincoats in the bedroom.

  But none of that mattered now. Avon was out of the picture, and in his place was a gorgeous billionaire werewolf with eyes like the Pacific Ocean.

  A few feet away, Grant was whispering to his cronies while talking into his cell phone. Focusing on the size gave me something to think about instead of the situation I’d stupidly landed myself in. The phone was something big and blocky, like a Samsung. Of course he would have something like that, I thought. Grant Beal wasn’t the type to do anything halfway, and why settle for less than the best when you can afford anything at all?

  Grant came back to me. “I never meant to get you into this, and for that I’m truly sorry,” he said. “But you’re going to have to stick close to me and my associates now. You’re in danger from rival packs once they find out you’re carrying my child.”

  His child.

  His child.

  I didn’t know what to think about that. He was so hot, so unbelievably hot, but I hadn’t signed up for this. We didn’t even know each other. What did it mean, I had to stick close to him? Was I going to have full-time bodyguards?

  Was I really in that much danger?

  What had I gotten myself into?

  My head throbbing, I dropped down onto one of the concrete bumper blocks. It was so cold, but it held me upright, and right then, that was all I needed. My stomach twisted on itself. Rival packs? Until tonight, I hadn’t even known werewolves were anything more than a TV show on the CW, and now not only was I possibly bearing one in my belly, but that fact could get me killed by other werewolves.

  Killed.

  I’d been lucky. I knew there were neighborhoods in New Jersey like Camden and Newark and parts of Trenton, where murders happened on a daily basis. Even Asbury Park had been pretty rough before it got cleaned up. Say the wrong thing and piss someone off; get shot. End up at the wrong bar; get knifed. Find yourself in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong, and it would be a sawed-off nine-millimeter to the head. I knew all that. Who didn’t? But I’d never had to see any of it.

  Even though she hadn’t been able to make all that much money after my dad passed on, my mom had always managed to keep us in decent areas. The right side of the tracks in Millville when she worked as a temp, and later New Brunswick. I’d never had to worry about more than how I was going to pay for my education after she died. I’d been blessed.

  Now, though, all those larger-than-life stories and news reports threatened to be just the right size for my life. My heart hammered in my chest, making it hard to breathe normally. I lowered my head between my legs to try to stop the hyperventilating before it started. At least, one part of my mind noted, nursing school had been good for something. If nothing else, I knew how to keep from having a complete meltdown right there in the parking lot.

  Grant’s associate, the one who had taken me out of the bar, approached with a cup of water. It turned out he’d been looking for me when I’d crashed into him at the bar. Once Grant got my phone messages and realized what the date was, he’d sent Mike over to watch for me. Mike was supposed to send word, and Grant would have me moved to a private location, but before we could do that, the brawl broke out.

  “You were lucky,” Mike said, handing me the water. “That was no ordinary fight in there. One of the rival packs, the Black Tails, was making its move against us.”

  “‘Against us,’” I repeated stupidly. “Who, exactly, are ‘we’?”

  Mike shook his head. “You really don’t know anything, do you? I told Grant to stick to our kind, but does he listen?”

  I turned my death glare on him, the one with all the venom-tipped barbs I could load into one look. “Don’t mess with me,” I snapped.

  He didn’t exactly cower, but he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough. It’s not like you not knowing is going to help anything. During the day, Grant’s the oil mogul you’ve heard of, but by night—when he’s not taking ladies home and throwing parties, that is—he leads the biggest, most powerful werewolf pack, the Golden Stripes. Trouble is, not everyone’s happy with the status quo. Seems a couple hotheads from rival packs wouldn’t mind seeing Grant and the rest of us get taken down, and they’re more than happy to help make that happen.”

  I frowned. That still didn’t explain everything. “So where does this . . . baby come into it?”

  “Werewolf succession happens one of two ways: either you kill the head of a pack, or you’re born into it.” Mike jabbed his chin toward my belly. I felt an instinctive urge to shield it, but I managed not to give in. “So anyone who had planned to try to off Grant—and there are a good number of those; you can trust me on that—now has to worry about an illegitimate heir.”

  I shook my head. “You’re seriously telling me Grant has never had any kids before?”

  Mike laughed. “Aw, geez, you really don’t know anything, huh? He has to get married all proper and have a kid officially, or at least that’s how the ritual goes. But even if he didn’t do that, this pup of yours will still have his blood, and it’s easy enough to put a ring on your finger, right?”

  “And if I refuse?” But even as I asked the question, I knew it was a moot point. Who in the rival packs would be foolish enough to take the chance that I might not accept everything that came with marrying Grant Beal?

  “Love’s a fairy tale that fools tell themselves,” Mike said, as if he’d read my mind. “Love really means you found the person who can give you all the things you want. All the things to keep you in food and a roof over your head and maybe even money to spend on pretty trinkets. Any jackass can learn to ‘love’ the one they’re with.”

  “That’s pretty cynical of you,” I scoffed, because I didn’t want to admit I knew what he meant. Where was I ever going to find a better situation than at a hot billionaire’s side?

  “Cynical’s just another way of saying I’ve seen the world.” Mike bent down and offered me a hand. “Anyway, come on, we gotta get out of here.”

  “Where to?” I asked. Everything felt like it was rushing by way too fast. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grant leaning against the Hummer, saying something into his cell phone.

  Mike pulled me to my feet, and I turned to look at Grant. I’d slept with the man, I’d watched him turn into a werewolf and scratched his furry head, and even now, he still seemed like something from a fantasy. A romance novel, maybe. It made tears come to my eyes.

  There was always a happy ending in romance novels, but what about in my life? With this little bun in my oven, would I even live to see the next year?

  Mike helped me into his car. “We’re taking you back to Grant’s,” he said. “We have the best shot of keeping you safe there.”

  “What about my stuff? I have to buy groceries. The landlady will think I’m skipping out on the rent—” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Buckle your seat belt,” he said. “You’re riding for two.”

  I made a retching sound. “Don’t even start that crap.” But I buckled the thing. No reason to tempt fate any further than I already had.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  I jumped in my seat almost high enough to hit the roof of the car. “What the hell was that?” I demanded, heart racing at a hundred miles per hour. “Gunshots?”

  “Yeah,” said Mike, his face grim. Then he turned to me with a huge grin. “Nah. Just my car backfiring. This old thing is overdue for maintenance. Maybe you can convince the boss to fork over some dough for repairs.”

  It took everything I had not to punch him. If I didn’t feel like my heart was going to bur
st out of my chest in a horrible, painful end, I would have. Instead, I concentrated on trying to calm it down.

  My phone beeped with a text message. Out of habit more than any real desire to know who it was, I glanced at the screen. Avon. Call me. It’s important.

  Was he kidding? I threw the phone back into my bag, then cringed back against my seat and wished for the millionth time I had just stayed home that night one month ago.

  As if we hadn’t been interrupted, Mike picked up right where he’d left off. “No gunshots right now, no. But don’t worry,” he said breezily. “Stick with us, and you’ll see the real thing soon enough.”