Gone with the Wolf

chapter Fourteen


At first, when Emelia turned down Drake’s offer to be his Luminary, she thought she’d made a mistake. He was gorgeous, their chemistry was off the charts, he was stable and commanding, the take-charge kind of man she’d always dreamed of marrying. He made her heart race and her skin flush with a single glance. He would be able to take care of her like no other man could, especially now that she was changing into a werewolf.

The concept that she would shift into a werewolf at the full moon struck Emelia as ridiculous even now, though she couldn’t deny the freakish changes happening to her body; one second she was sweating and pissed off, the next second she was cold as ice and laughing hysterically. It was mania at its best.

But Emelia simply couldn’t answer Drake the way he’d wanted her to. He may not have been the devious man she’d believed him to be a month ago, but there was still so much she didn’t know. She’d jumped into a relationship before, and it’d gotten her nothing but a broken heart, an unused wedding dress, and a bunch of gifts she didn’t want and still had to return.

To top it off, Drake wasn’t only asking her to be with him forever, he was asking her to drop her dreams of having children. Emelia hadn’t even thought that far yet. She’d been so focused on building a thriving business with her bar, she hadn’t had time to think through what would happen after that. Sure, children might’ve been in the picture someday, but not anytime soon. Did that mean she wanted to forgo that option completely?

No matter how badly Emelia wanted to say yes to Drake’s offer, no matter how much her heart pulled to his, she couldn’t accept.

Drake had dropped Emelia off at the Knight Owl bright and early Wednesday morning so she could catch up on paperwork and check on the weekend sales. Although she’d insisted that she would be all right by herself, Drake left three packmates with her—she would never get used to that word—while he left to handle business of his own.

Emelia pulled chairs down from the tabletops and shimmied them into place, adding tiny pumpkin-spice tea lights to the center of the tables to add a festive feel. There was a rainstorm coming, and Thanksgiving was around the corner. Customers would want to frequent a place where they could order an Autumn Tumbler, kick their feet up on one of the tables, and watch their favorite football team play on one of the flat screens mounted by the stage. Other customers would want to curl up with one of the books on the shelves in the back and put the worries of the day behind them.

That is, if customers would come in at all.

Emelia had always been good at knowing what customers wanted and what they needed in their local watering hole before they asked for it. She knew when they wanted stand-up comics and got them. She knew when they wanted open mic night and had arranged to have it on the first weekend of every month. Business went from trickling to booming in no time. Emelia had finally found something she was good at—running and maintaining her tiny sliver of heaven.

But over the last couple months, business had slowed to a halt, and it seemed that nothing Emelia tried brought customers back. It had to be the economy. Or maybe she’d slipped on paying attention to the customers’ needs.

“Where are you going?” one of the guards asked as she walked around the wall separating the main room from the bar.

“To my office.” She didn’t stop walking, and became hyperaware that the guard shadowed her every step. “Is that a problem?”

“We were told to have you in sight at all times.” He was the burliest of the three, with a skull-trim cut and dark, blazing eyes. “Direct order from Mr. Wilder, ma’am.”

“Watch me at all times, huh?” Emelia swept past the bar and walked to her office tucked in the back near the kitchen. “And if I have to use the restroom? What then? You gonna follow me in and hand me paper?”

The guard flustered, clearing his throat. “I think, ah, I think it’d be best if you… Logan, it’s your turn to guard the Luminary!”

Oh, wonderful. They all knew she was Drake’s match. Did Drake tell everyone in the pack, or was their connection something they all sensed, like Silas?

Rolling her eyes, Emelia entered her office and plopped into the leather seat in front of her computer. “Friday was slow, Saturday was horrible,” Emelia read aloud from a Post-it stuck to her computer screen. “Missed you. Hope you had fun in SF. Renee.”

Emelia sighed, running her fingers through her hair. When she’d first approached Drake about the bar, when she still thought she owned it, he’d said the neighborhood was in a downward spiral. He’d said she would go bankrupt without serious financial backing. Damn him if he was right. Emelia couldn’t deny that business was slower than normal, but customers came in waves. They would come back, wouldn’t they? What if business never picked back up? And what the hell was she going to do about Needles and the money she had apparently flushed down the toilet?

She wished she had something saved up to hire a lawyer and sue the hell out of Needles and get her fifty grand back so she could reinvest in the bar. But damn it, there was nothing she could do. Drake owned her building. She’d have to go back to leasing it.

Like an elephant in the room that she refused to acknowledge, Emelia did everything she could not to think about Drake’s offer. She couldn’t push it aside any longer…if she married Drake, what was his would become hers.

She would own the bar again.

“No,” she said aloud, plopping her head in her hands. “I bought it myself, built it up myself, and I’ll do it again. I don’t need anyone.”

Emelia’s heart sank, but it wasn’t because she didn’t know what she was going to do with her bar and Drake’s building. Deep down, a tiny inkling warned that while she might not need anyone, she was starting to want someone by her side. And not just any someone, but one very special someone in particular.

Drake.

“What am I thinking?” She mindlessly stroked her left ring finger. “Things shouldn’t be this difficult. What the hell am I doing?”

“If you’ve managed to keep this place up and running while everything around the neighborhood is falling apart,” a scratchy voice said from the doorway, “I say you know exactly what you’re doing.”

The packmate leaning against the doorframe was smaller than the other two wandering around the bar, but he was still a whopping six-feet-something huge, with a mop of unruly black hair and enormous, piercing gray eyes. He was dressed in black leather pants, a baggy black shirt, and had the jaw-dropping good looks to grace the cover of Muscle magazine. But he didn’t look plastic, like he’d gotten his build from the gym alone. No, he looked like a linebacker, rough and ready to do some real damage.

“Logan, I presume?” Emelia asked, scanning through the weekend’s numbers. “Have you come to put me in my place?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “I came to serve you. What can I do?”

Hmm. This werewolf was different. Instead of picking up a warm, protective vibe from Logan, Emelia sensed an aloof type of coldness about him. Like pushing everyone away was his usual MO.

“Nothing,” she said, lost in a document detailing profits and losses. “I’m used to handling everything on my own, but thanks for the offer.”

“My pleasure. If you need me, I’ll be manning the front door.” As Logan retreated into the bar, Emelia called him back.

“There is one thing,” she said, swiveling her chair around to him.

“Anything.”

“Do you know Drake—Mr. Wilder very well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan said, with a quick, marine-like nod. “I owe him my life.”

“How’s that?”

Logan shifted his feet as if what he was about to say made him uncomfortable. “He set up a part of the Vanguard Foundation to take care of werewolves who are left parentless. I was abandoned by my parents, who wanted to roam the world without a child hooked to their hip. I was left on the streets for years and had to fend for myself.” He spoke as if the past were distant to him, a detached piece of his soul that floated around his body. “Turned werewolves only shift on the full moon, but born werewolves like me turn when they get angry. When you’re left on the streets, nothing angers you more than having to fight for food. Until someone helps you control your anger, you get into heaps of trouble. Mr. Wilder was the one who helped me.”

“Oh.” It seemed like a stupid thing to say after what he’d just told her, but Emelia couldn’t think of another word to take its place. The more she learned about Drake, the more he amazed her. She was terribly wrong on her first judgment. Drake wasn’t evil. He was kind. Generous and loving. And for reasons Emelia still didn’t understand, he cared for her. “How long have you known him?”

Logan couldn’t have been more than thirty.

“Two hundred years, ma’am, and I can’t say I’ve met a better man since then.” Logan stepped into the room and took to a knee so that his steel-gray eyes were level with Emelia’s. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I heard what happened with Silas. I should say I’m sorry you were transitioned that way, but I truly think it’s for the better.”

Emelia sighed. “Yeah, well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, even if I wanted to.”

“Not that my opinion matters, but you should complete the bond with Mr. Wilder.”

“Not that your opinion matters,” she joked.

“Right.” He nodded slowly as a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I can sense your connection to him, and I can sense your apprehension. But I can sense more stirring within you, too. You’re powerful, Ms. Hudson. You’re graceful and unique, so much more than you believe yourself to be. You’d be a perfect match for him.”

“Me? Graceful?” Emelia laughed, and felt for the first time like she had a friend in Drake’s world. “Guess you haven’t seen my feet get tangled together yet.”

Logan matched her laugh, easing the tension in her middle. “You’re very special, Ms. Hudson.”

“I don’t think she needs to hear that from you.”

Emelia hadn’t noticed Drake walk up behind him. Either the dimly lit bar cloaked Drake in shadow, or he moved with deadly stealth.

“Mr. Wilder,” Logan said, standing, pulling his shoulders back.

“Mr. Black.” Drake’s words melted together into a growl.

“I was just asking Ms. Hudson if there was anything she needed.”

“Bet you were.”

The two faced off, toe-to-toe, and the next few seconds were taut with silence. If glares shot daggers in the literal sense, they would’ve been skewered through.

“What are you doing here, Drake?” Emelia shut down her computer and stood, smoothing down her jeans. “I thought you had business to take care of.”

“I did,” Drake said, not taking his eyes off Logan. Their gazes remained locked like ram horns in a brutal clash. “Emelia, may I speak to you in private?”

Logan nodded as if the question were meant for him, and left the office. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Hudson,” he said without looking back.

“You too.” Emelia pointed to the spot where Logan stood moments before. “What was that about?”

“I don’t like him talking to you that way.” He snaked an arm around Emelia’s waist and tugged her against him. His belt ground into her stomach, then seemed to disappear as something harder swelled between them. “I’ve missed you.”

“Is that what you came back to tell me?”

“That’d be sweet, but no.” He smiled. “I came back to tell you that I found a lawyer who’ll take your case against Mr. Branch.”

“Really?” Emelia nearly jumped out of her skin, then steeled herself. “Thank you for setting that up, but I don’t think I can afford a lawyer just yet.”

He brushed his hands up and down her arms. “I’m taking care of it.”

“No, no, that’s not what I want.” The last thing Emelia wanted was for Drake to think she was using him, or getting closer to him because of what he could do for her and this place. “When I can afford it, I’ll hire a lawyer myself.”

“I figured you’d say that,” he said, stroking his hands over the small of her back, “so I found a lawyer who’ll work the case pro bono. He’s done a few cases with Wilder Financial, but he works for a separate legal corporation so you won’t have to go through me or my company, if you don’t want to. He said the case sounds clear-cut, but he’ll take a deeper look once you give him the go-ahead. I put his business card on the bar.”

“Thank you.” Emelia couldn’t believe Drake had gone out of his way to make her feel more comfortable with the situation. He’d made her next move clear…and convenient. “I’ll give him a call this afternoon.”

“I also came back for something else.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to take you on our first date.”

“Our first…date?”

“You know, where you get dressed up and I pick you up at your place and we go out to dinner and a movie like normal people?”

She smacked him. He didn’t flinch, damn him and his brute strength. “I know what a date is, Captain Obvious. It’s just that…aren’t we past that? I mean, the dog has already buried the bone. What good would it do to dig it back up and show it to me?”

Deep hoots of laughter erupted out of him. “Yes, Emelia, I’ve already buried the bone, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to show you what it would be like to go out with me under normal circumstances. I’d like to show you what your life could be like if you stayed with me.”

“Tempting offer,” she said, plinking her fingers across her desk. “But I’m not sure.”

“Damn it, woman, are you sure about anything?”

Her gaze drifted over Drake’s shoulder, to the dartboard on the far wall. “Tell you what. We’ll play a game of darts over it. If you win, I go out with you, wherever and whenever you want. If I win, you have to jump into Lake Washington.”

“What? Why the hell would you want me to do that? The water’s freezing!”

“Exactly the point,” she said, smiling. “Jumping in defies logic.”

He needed a lot more feeling and a lot less thinking in his life. If she had to be the person to show him what a little spontaneity was like, so be it. Besides, she’d jumped into Lake Washington dozens of times. The water wasn’t that cold.

“It’ll take an act of God to get me in there,” he said.

“Or a losing game of darts.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he chuckled. “I’ve had hundreds of years to perfect my shot.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Emelia said.

She held out her hand to seal the deal. Drake took it and shook, enveloping her hand in warmth.

“I tried to warn you, but if you insist on making this easy on me, lead the way.” He swept his arm aside so she could pass through to the bar. “I’m thinking a steak and lobster dinner. Maybe a late-night jaunt to Victoria Island.”

Emelia yanked six darts—three flagged blue, three flagged red—out of the cork board and turned. Drake stood on the throw line, gearing up to throw an invisible dart. Watching him lose was going to be the highlight of the night.

“You know, Drake,” Emelia said, handing him the blue darts. “I just realized that I am sure about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Smiling ear to ear, Emelia took her spot on the line and fired the first dart straight into the bull’s-eye. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”