Gone with the Wolf

chapter Two


As the sun reached its peak in the sky the next day, Drake stepped out of his limo and onto the busy curb in front of Wilder Financial. If he were the nervous type, his palms would’ve been sticky with sweat. He would’ve adjusted his tie a thousand times on the ride over. He would’ve phoned the office to make sure everything was in order. Instead, his body became rigid, wound tight with anticipation. Knots of tension pinballed around his stomach, and his chest hardened with hot rods of adrenaline.

Struggling to keep his impulses in check, Drake strode through the glass doors of his office building and passed by a gawking secretary, who stood the instant he made eye contact.

“Good morning, Mr. Wilder,” she said, alarmed, pressing down the front of her dress suit.

“Good morning.” Drake didn’t mean to startle her, so he nodded politely and picked up his pace through the whitewashed lobby.

Employees whispered and stared as he passed by, though he couldn’t blame them for their odd behavior. He was the leper CEO of Wilder Financial, the boss who rarely peeked his head out of his office. He hated this part of the building—the sterile and impersonal nature of it—which was probably why he never entered through the sweeping front doors. He preferred to show up via helicopter from the pad on the roof, then take the stairs down to his upper-level office. It was easier to keep snooping noses out of his private life that way, too. If anyone got too close and found out he was a three-hundred-year-old werewolf, he was done for.

But today was different.

Today he hoped to see the blond vixen who’d stolen his wine and stopped his heart. He searched every passing face for some resemblance to the woman from the cellar, spotted beauties of all shapes and sizes, but none of them compared. None of them held a candle to Emelia Hudson.

Would he see her walking the lower hallways or would he meet her on the top floor near his office? He held his breath, impatiently waiting until the moment when he’d see her in the light of day.

He entered a packed elevator, and although he was sure the employees were all going up, they exited upon his entrance, leaving him staring at his own reflection when the doors hissed shut. His dark eyes appeared more strained than normal—probably from the insufficient two hours of shut-eye he’d gotten last night—and his hair was unusually messy, nearly flopping into his eyes. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tunneled his fingers through his hair.

When he hit the forty-second floor—the penthouse—and the doors yanked back, Drake clenched and unclenched his fists, shook out his arms and exhaled.

This was it. The moment when he would see Emelia again and know if the connection between them was caused by the wine or something…else.

Raul Bloomfield, his Beta wolf, charged around the corner and welcomed Drake with a stiff handshake.

“Good morning, boss,” he said, handing him a note with missed calls on it, listed in order of importance. “I have to say, you threw quite the party last night.”

“Thank you, Raul. They say parties can be judged by the mess they leave in the morning. From the looks of my living room, I’d say it was a riot.” Drake skimmed the list and shoved it into his front pocket. He had more important matters to attend to at the moment. “Is Emelia Hudson here yet?”

“No sir, I’m afraid she’s running late.” Raul pressed down the front of a Brioni coat as straight and black as his hair. Even though his eyes were a muted shade of charcoal, they held an intensity that could strike fear in the heart of any one of their packmates. “But I’ve briefed Ms. Fox on the new state of affairs. She’ll run your business aspects, as usual, and Ms. Hudson will be your personal secretary until you feel she is ready to handle other matters of business.”

Drake checked his watch as he marched around the corner and down the long hall leading to his office. “I asked you to have her transferred here first thing this morning. It’s nearly noon.”

Raul Bloomfield had been Drake’s Beta wolf for two hundred years. He’d never taken this long to obey an order. Figures he’d stall on the most important order Drake had ever given him: transfer Emelia Hudson to his private office staff ASAP.

“I contacted the temp agency as you requested,” Raul said, following on Drake’s heels. “I retrieved all of Ms. Hudson’s information from the county, and I’m searching the pack’s database for more comprehensive records. I had an extra desk moved outside your door, as requested, and she should be here any minute. I’m told she’s running late due to a nasty hangover, sir.”

Raul’s thoughts raced through Drake’s head as if they were his own. The ancient pack-speaking process was common to him—as ordinary as drinking his coffee black and his scotch Blue—but this time, Raul’s silent words turned Drake’s feet to stone.

Why do I get the feeling she experienced more than a hangover, sir? Luminaries are reported to experience symptoms that resemble drunken stupor when they meet their fated mate.

“Don’t even think it, Raul. I wasted two hundred prime years of my life looking for my Luminary. She’s not going to appear as Little Red Riding Hood at one of my office parties a century after I’ve given up searching for her.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Despite Drake’s ramblings, he knew there was something off about his reaction to Emelia. The way she’d looked in that silly costume had captured his interest first—the crimson corset hourglassed her figure and flaunted the plumpness of her breasts, making his mouth water and his hands ache to brush over her skin. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, hands down, oozing sex appeal without trying. But it was the sincerity behind her piercing stare that had held Drake prisoner in the cellar. Those midnight-blue eyes had spellbound him, rendering him speechless, pinching his heart in a vise. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

Emelia Hudson.

Could he really have found her? His Luminary? The idea struck him as ridiculous. He was an Alpha, rightful heir to the Seattle wolf pack throne. She was human. She wasn’t a born werewolf, and to be turned would mean she wouldn’t be strong enough to have children. Or, in the case that she became his mate, Alpha heirs. In three hundred years, he’d never heard of an Alpha finding a human as his Luminary.

Fate was a nasty bitch, with a twisted sense of humor.

After leaving the cellar last night, Drake had retreated to his room. He’d dived into old texts about the reaction an Alpha werewolf would have upon finding his one and only Luminary—the eternal light in his life, his soul mate. He’d studied the chemical reaction that sparked between fated lovers upon first touch. Everything was spot-on to how he’d felt down in that cellar…with her.

Still, Drake had to meet her again. Just to be certain. He could’ve mistaken off-the-charts chemistry with the Luminary reaction, couldn’t he? Simply meeting in the halls wouldn’t be enough to figure it out. He wanted more than a single touch and a few cordial words in passing. There was too much on the line to take the situation lightly. Drake needed to keep Emelia Hudson close until he knew for sure.

As Drake reached his secretary’s desk, Trixie Fox stood and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. It was bold and out-of-the-pot hot, nearly scalding his tongue. The pain quieted Raul’s thoughts before they could continue further.

“Good morning, Mr. Wilder,” Trixie said with a kind smile.

“I hope the new arrangement’s all right.” Drake pointed to the second desk across from Trixie’s—the one he’d brought in especially for Emelia. The mahogany desks faced each other and flanked his door, creating an alleyway to his office. “I’m not sure if Ms. Hudson will pan out as my personal secretary, but I know how overworked you’ve been lately. I think it might be more accommodating to split the secretary position into admin and personal.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Trixie worked her ass off for Wilder Financial, and could absolutely use another set of hands to assist with business—only those hands wouldn’t be Emelia’s. Drake wasn’t sure how long it would take to rule out Emelia as his Luminary, but he’d keep her close until he knew undeniably either way. He made a mental note to find Trixie a real assistant as soon as he ruled Emelia out.

“It means so much knowing that you’ve noticed how hard I’ve been working.” Trixie tucked her tawny-brown hair behind her ears and smiled coyly. “I was starting to think you didn’t see me at all.”

Under normal circumstances, Drake would’ve been flattered by Trixie’s constant attention. He couldn’t deny she was classically beautiful—taller than average with a model-thin build, generous breasts, and legs that wouldn’t quit. But there’d never been a spark between them. At least not from Drake’s side. In the five years Trixie had worked for the company, Drake had never gotten the urge to take advantage of the long nights they spent working in his office.

Not once.

“I trust you’ll be able to instruct Ms. Hudson on how we run things around here?”

Trixie nodded. “I’ll have her in top form in no time.”

As far as Drake was concerned, Emelia’s form was already top-notch. “I’m sure you will.”

Striding toward his office, Drake shot a quick glance at the desk that would soon be Emelia’s. Flat-screen monitor. Keyboard. Pad of paper. Telephone. She already had the necessities, though she wouldn’t be using those things much. As Drake’s personal assistant, she’d refill his coffee, run errands, take orders, and handle things Trixie was too busy to handle herself.

He couldn’t wait to see Emelia again.

“Mr. Wilder?” Trixie’s voice pierced his thoughts.

He turned and stared into questioning hazel eyes. “Yes?”

“Pardon my saying so, but are you sure you want a temp to fill this position? I’m sure we could find a secretary from a lower department who is more qualified.”

“I appreciate your concern, Trixie, and perhaps in a day’s time we’ll get someone from another department. For now, I want Emelia Hudson and no other.”

With a wince, Drake entered his office and waited for the door to click shut behind him.

“You want Emelia Hudson and no other?” Raul’s voice taunted.

Drake stood in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, zoned out on the misty cityscape, and scrubbed his head. Had he really just said that? “Damn, that came out wrong.”

“No,” Raul said, placing his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “There’s a chance it came out right.”

It’d been nothing more than surprise, Drake thought. Emelia had caught him off guard in the wine cellar last night. He hadn’t been with a woman in months. He’d been tense and on edge, tired from dealing with bundles of acquisitions in the city. He’d been all business, impersonal and cold, for so long, she’d been a welcome surprise. She’d somehow soothed him.

She couldn’t be his Luminary, his one and only destined mate.

God help him if she was.