Gone With the Wolf (8 page)

Chapter Nine

City hall was breathtaking in its grandeur, the perfect place to host the Vanguard Gala. Lightly toned granite and sandstone gave the inner rotunda an elegant, American Renaissance feel, from the larger-than-life pillars to the intricate archways, to the grand staircase. Round tables and cloth-covered chairs filled the entire circular hall, with robust flower arrangements in every corner and on every table. Purple and red auras of light focused on the wall above the staircase and in the center of the dance floor added impressions of sophistication familiar to the Wilder Foundation.

Emelia looped her arm through Drake’s and moved around the room like a goddess, with her shoulders pulled back and chin held high. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. It didn’t matter if Drake introduced her to the mayor of San Francisco or the woman who coordinated the event, Emelia radiated kindness, jumping into effortless conversation with everyone who crossed her path.

Even though Drake had heightened security inside city hall, he couldn’t shake the nerves rattling his bones. Emelia wasn’t out of harm’s way yet. Whoever sent the goon to attack her would be back. Luckily, his packmates were in top form, on high alert, searching for anything out of order. Emelia had Drake’s full, undivided attention.

After swiping two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server, Drake escorted Emelia around the room and up the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the bustling hall below. He’d ordered three of his best men to follow Emelia everywhere she went. Even now, they kept pace behind them, far enough away that they couldn’t overhear conversation, but close enough to jump into action if something happened.

As the murmur of the guests washed over them, Emelia leaned against the nearest balcony and peered over the side. “You never told me what the gala is celebrating.”

“You never asked.” Drake tipped back his glass, not sure how much he wanted to tell Emelia. Although he longed to tell her everything, there was a very fine line between revealing just enough and too much. One small word could tip the balance. Too much, she’d get scared and bolt. Drake couldn’t protect her that way. That was the last thing he wanted.

“This is me asking,” she said.

Drake stepped beside her, scanning the crowd for someone out of place. “Serephina Vanguard was a visionary, donating most of her money to the city’s performing art programs, museums, and parks, when people didn’t have money to support such ventures. She even helped build the city’s first opera house. She understood that there was more to a city than the people who governed it, a kind of inspirational river that flowed through it, influencing the people who lived there. She believed that the heart of a prosperous society comes from individuals who are creative thinkers, people who challenge established beliefs. She was a revolutionary, hated by some who thought her money should go toward more practical things…like government and election campaigns.”

“So, aside from donating to creative programs in San Francisco, she bucked the system? Sounds like my kind of lady.” Emelia nodded as if she understood, but had no idea. “Will she be here?”

Drake took another hearty drink, trying to drown the memory. “No, she passed away years ago.”

Drake ached to tell her the truth about Serephina Vanguard. He didn’t know why—he’d never wanted to reveal the truth to any of the other women who’d come in and out of his life in the last three hundred years. Emelia was different. She didn’t act like everyone else, respecting him because of his authority in the pack or his position in the company. She treated everyone equally whether they worked the mail room or owned the company. She reminded him of Serephina in that way. It was clear Drake had to earn her respect; he planned on doing just that.

“Wilder Financial donates millions of dollars every year to keep the Vanguard Foundation going strong,” he said. “It’s one of the things I’m most proud of. This gala is to thank the people who keep Serephina’s memory alive.”

Emelia looked at him. Really looked at him. As if she could see the man behind the black-and-white penguin suit, the man who wanted Wilder Financial to be more than a multimillion-dollar corporation. His senses picked up the soft hint of fondness—it bloomed off Emelia in waves, peaceful and hesitant, like a flower opening its petals after a long winter.

“Funny how women who are scoffed at for forward thinking are revered after they’re gone,” she said.

Drake nodded, needing to say more, aching to connect the bridge spanning between them. Things he shouldn’t say lingered on his tongue and burned a hole in his throat. How could he tell her that he was a werewolf? That he’d be the luckiest werewolf alive if she ruled the pack with him? Might as well sign him up for
Maury
. He’d fit right in on the “My Boyfriend Is a Freak” show.

As the gala’s host tapped the microphone, announcing that everyone should take their seats, Drake leaped, saying the words he had never spoken to another.

“Serephina was my mother. Vanguard was her maiden name.”

“Really?” Emelia’s smoky eyes widened in surprise. She touched his arm gently, and smiled. “And here I thought you came from heartless parents who fought for big businesses and accounted little for people’s feelings.”

“You never cease to amaze me.” He shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

“I’m not sure what I feel, actually.” Emelia closed the distance between them and placed both her hands on his shoulders. “But I know it’s slowly changing.”

“
Please take your seats
,” the Vanguard Foundation representative blared over the microphone. He’d been chosen to host the gala not only for his role in the company, but for his Barry White baritone. “
The reception is about to begin
.”

Drake braced himself as floodgates of desire burst open inside him. His hands found Emelia’s waist and he tugged her against him, cherishing the feel of her body against his. This was how it should be always—the two of them together. The thought struck Drake like a drum, vibrating through his body. He wanted to bond with her, bury himself deep inside her, and live every day of his life making her glow with happiness.

But would it be enough if she couldn’t give him children? Would his pack respect him anyway? God, he wished the answers were easier to understand. He wanted to believe that it didn’t matter. That he’d control the pack without an heir just fine. But it did matter on some level. His father had beaten the concept of pack pride into him since he was young enough to understand. His father had also been the one to tell him that turned werewolves were not strong enough to fit with the rest…

“When I first met you I thought there was nothing to you,” Emelia whispered. “I thought you were cold and merciless, chopping small businesses off at the knees for your own selfish gain. But you’re not that way at all, not really.”

“No,” he said, catching the sincerity in her gaze. “Not really, but don’t tell anyone. You’d ruin my bad-boy image.”

His skin warmed beneath her hands, radiating through his chest. He could kiss her, right here, right now. She was so close, her lips parting in supple invitation. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“I think it’s easy for people to mistake your keen business sense for harshness, but there’s more to you than meets the eye.” She leaned in close, until Drake’s stomach tumbled. “Certain times, like in the cellar, in your office, and right now, I feel warmth brewing inside you. I think you pretend to be cold so no one gets close.”

“You’re close now,” he said against her lips.

“I am.” Her breath hitched as her gaze drifted down his chest. “And I like what I feel.”

Hot-blooded impulses fired in Drake’s middle, dizzying him. He braced himself on the balcony behind Emelia and guided her against the railing. She smiled, anticipating the pressure of his body.

“Do they follow you everywhere?” Emelia asked, tilting her head at the guards, who were pretending not to watch their interlude.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the plumpness of her lips. “They’re here for your protection.”

“My protection?” Her voice was a delicious whisper. “From who? You?”

“Maybe.”

Why did he just say that?
Because he was a werewolf and she was a woman with no knowledge of their world? Damn it. If he didn’t know better, he would say he’d just spoken the truth.

“Serephina Vanguard is the reason we are here tonight.”
The host’s voice boomed from the hall as the hum in Drake’s stomach amplified.

“I don’t need to be protected from you, Drake. Not anymore. Come on.” Emelia slipped from his hold and headed toward the stairs. “I don’t want to miss this.”

The host’s voice continued to rumble through the hall as Drake escorted Emelia down the grand staircase and found their seats at the edge of the room. For the first time since he’d hosted the gala, Drake wondered how quickly he could slip out of the hall and take Emelia somewhere private.

“She was born in 1850 to a poor family from New York City and passed away in San Francisco in 1938. Serephina Vanguard had no children, and instead chose to donate her time raising the creative climate of San Francisco. Her legacy continues, only through the grace of supporters like you.”

Drake pinched his eyes shut as he pushed in Emelia’s chair, hoping she didn’t pay attention to the details in the host’s speech. The burn-through-his-skin glare Drake received when he sat beside Emelia proved his worst fears.

“You told me she was your mother.” She leaned over without looking at him, and talked to his shoulder. “You either lied to me, or you’re the most gorgeous elderly guy I know. Serephina died in the thirties.”

“I’ll explain everything,” Drake said, as chills scampered down his neck, “but my introductory speech comes first.”

She shot him a scowl, her eyes narrowing to slits. “What reason would you have to lie about something like that?”

The words were a hammer to the heart. Drake couldn’t stand it anymore. When they hadn’t yet ironed out the deed issue, Emelia thought Drake was a scoundrel. Now that he’d finally hurdled that obstacle, Emelia thought he was liar. He should’ve kept her upstairs until the host called his name. He could’ve pressed her against one of those pillars and kissed her until the only thing she could hear was the fevered rush of blood in her ears.

But no. Just when he got Emelia to trust him, he faced a disbelieving frown. Seemed they were destined to dance the one-step-forward, two-step-back tango.

“And now, may I introduce our man of the hour…”

“I didn’t lie,” Drake said, placing a hand on her knee. The urge to tell Emelia about what he really was, about the role she played in his life and his heart as his Luminary, struck him hard and true. That’s it…he’d tell her everything tonight. Once they were alone. “I told you that I’d explain what’s going on, and I will…after my speech. We’ll go somewhere quiet where we can talk, and I’ll tell you things I should’ve told you when we first met.”

“…the man who is responsible for putting this evening together, the philanthropist who has donated more money to the Vanguard Foundation than all of our other supporters combined…”

“What kind of things?” Emelia asked, ducking as a spotlight swept over them. “What should you have told me?”

“Mr. Russell D. Wilder!”

Applause swarmed like bees as blinding spotlights homed in on Drake. In that instant, he became the burning ant beneath a sun-scorched magnifying glass. Every move he made was analyzed, every word dissected.

He smiled and waved. Like he’d been trained. “Promise that you’ll stay right here,” he said into Emelia’s ear. “Stay here until I come back for you.”

Taking his notecards from his pocket, Drake marched on stage and tried to focus on what he was doing this for…instead of the woman glaring at him from table five.

Chapter Ten

Why was she prone to canoodling with liars? The entire length of Drake’s speech, Emelia thought back over everything he’d said. She believed him when he talked about Serephina Vanguard on the balcony. He’d looked sincere, almost pained, when he talked about her passing and how much he’d done for the project.

She needed fresh air. She needed a chance to think without thousands of eyes staring at her, wondering who she was and why she deserved to be here with Drake, the world’s most eligible bachelor.

Emelia bolted the first chance she got, and that chance came thanks to Drake’s bodyguards. When Drake’s speech ended, a group of burly men grabbed him by the elbows and escorted him behind the stage. His bodyguards were the largest Emelia had ever seen, and easily the most handsome. Each of the men had razor-short hair, strong features, and surprisingly gentle eyes. Did he only hire former Abercrombie models or something?

Emelia hurried out the hall, down the outside steps, and around the rectangular patch of grass that stretched before her as long and wide as a football field. Buzzing with life, the noise of the city blended into one constant roar, drowning out the thoughts screeching through her head.

She slowed as she reached the trees lining the grass and shivered with awareness.

Someone was watching her.

Was it one of Drake’s guards? They seemed to be everywhere tonight. Always watching. Like they were waiting for something in particular. Something that had to do with her.

Keeping her pace slow, so that she wouldn’t wander too far from the hall, Emelia became hyperaware that someone was closing in. A rogue draft of crisp night air hit the back of her neck, launching a goose bump assault over her entire body.

“Hello?” Emelia asked, slowly spinning, peering through the dark between the trees that lined the opposite end of the grass. “If you’re looking for Drake, he’s still inside.”

Out of the shadows beside her, Drake appeared. Emelia jumped, clutching her heart.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, fighting the urge to smack him.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Drake’s gait was slow and deliberate. Almost a stalk. “Enjoying the night?”

The tone of his voice was different. Warmer and deeper. Somehow, Emelia thought she picked up the hint of an accent. Was it Middle Eastern? Drake was gorgeous in a tux, his shoulders impossibly broad, accentuating the squareness and strength of his jaw and the trim cut of his waist.

Liar
, she reminded herself. Why did he have to be so good-looking? It would be easier to hate him if he looked like a beast. “I was having a great time. I even felt like Cinderella for most of the night, until someone lied to me.”

“Who could lie to such a beautiful creature?”

“Very funny.” She quirked her head and walked past him. He wasn’t going to pretend the lies didn’t happen—she wasn’t in the mood. “Did you think I’d look at you differently if I thought she was your mother?”

Drake seemed to stiffen, then fell into line beside her. “The truth is, I don’t like thinking of my mother, not when she pretended to have good intentions while screwing her own family out of money that was rightfully theirs.”

“Wow,” she said, turning to face him. “So she is your mother? You’re going with that story now?”

“She is my mother—at least she was before I disowned her. It’s complicated. And like I said, I’d rather not talk about the witch.”

“You sure know how to flip your words ass over end, don’t you? One second you’re singing Serephina’s praises and the next you’re throwing her under the bus. I’m sure you do the same thing with your women.”

Oh, she had Drake’s number now. She’d met men like him before. Hell, she’d almost married a man like him before. Emelia was dead tired of men flipping their minds and hearts like light switches. One second they were in love, the next they were fleeing to Las Vegas to marry the stripper from their bachelor party…not that she knew from experience or anything.

Drake’s expression remained still as stone. He closed the distance between them, but kept moving as if he would run her right over if she didn’t back up. The first pangs of fear hit Emelia’s system hard and she retreated, backing against the trunk of a tree. Drake stayed on course, and didn’t stop until his body was against hers, his knee wedged between her thighs. Alarms went off in Emelia’s brain and she put her hands against his chest to stop him.

“What are you doing?” she said. “Back off.”

This man looked like Drake, but he…
wasn’t.
Her eyes may have been playing tricks on her by seeing double, but deep down she knew this man wasn’t Drake. Same determined stare, same build and stature, but there was one tiny difference: this man didn’t have a tiny indentation on his left ear.

“You’re a stunner, I’ll give Drake that much.” The man’s eyes churned with hatred. “I’m surprised he’s been able to last as long as he has. If you were my Luminary, I would’ve had you ten times over already.”

Definitely. Not. Drake.

Emelia tried to slide past Drake’s look-alike. He pinned her in place, trapping both of her wrists in one of his hands. A shadow crossed over his face, turning his features sinister. She cried out, but he clamped a large hand over her mouth, severing her scream.

“You’re going to get something through your head.” His hot breath coated her face. “You’re leaving with me tonight, and you’re going to be my sweet little ticket to getting everything. If you come with me quietly, it’ll be far less painful than what’ll happen to you if you scream again.”

If she could get to the street, she could scream to high heaven. Someone would have to help her. She might have a chance to get away. Where was Drake? Would he even know to look for her out here? And what happened to all those guards who were stationed everywhere? Couldn’t any of them wander outside for a smoke? She’d been stupid to leave the gala. She should’ve stayed at the table like he’d told her to. Having no other choice, Emelia nodded, her lips mashed beneath the stranger’s meaty fingers.

“Good girl.” The stranger eyed Emelia curiously, his gaze settling on her lips. Slowly, he removed the hand from her mouth, but kept his knee firmly in place. “Why my brother hasn’t taken advantage of this sweet body of yours, I’ll never know. Has he told you why he hasn’t completed the bond with you yet? Has he told you that you’re not strong enough? That you’ll never be like us?”

“Your
brother
? Completed the bond?” Confused as hell and rattled to the core, Emelia tried to stay strong, fighting against her natural reaction to shake like a leaf. She downright refused to play the part of a victim. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why hasn’t he at least bitten you and started the transition? It’s a shame to leave you so weak and vulnerable.”

“Bitten me?” Emelia felt like she’d been warped into the twilight zone. This guy truly was a monster. “Keep your teeth away from me.”

“He hasn’t told you a thing, has he? It’s a shame to leave you in the dark, especially since you’re his Luminary.” The stranger tsk’d his tongue against his blindingly white teeth. “You see, if I bit you right here”—his cold fingers brushed against her neck—“you’d start the transition process.”

Emelia’s breath hitched as his nails dug into her skin. He was a madman. Certifiably insane. She should scream. She should knee him in the crotch and run. Emelia’s arms and legs grew heavy, frozen from fear.

“If I bit you in the exact same place, or left you with one only one bite, you’d die a long, painful death. But if I bit you on a second pulse point, right here for example”—his hand brushed Emelia’s inner thigh through her gown—“you’d finish the transition and become one of us. But you won’t get the chance to experience that kind of power rushing through your veins. I’ve got far greater plans for you than that.”

Oh, God.

“You’re going to be my ticket to ruling the pack I was always meant to rule. I was born first, damn it, the title was rightfully mine. But it’s no matter now. Thanks to you, I’m getting everything.” Bending down, the stranger inhaled deeply, then moaned. “Your fear smells so damn good. I could keep you here all day.”

“I don’t know anything about a bite or a transition or what you want from Drake. Let me go.” Emelia wriggled against him, but it was no use. He was too large, too strong, and was holding her too tightly. The more she struggled, the more he pressed against her. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m not worth anything to Drake.”

He laughed and brushed a rough hand down her cheek. “So beautiful, so naive. Too bad we can’t stick around longer. I’d love to strip that innocent look off your face right along with this dress, but I can sense that some of his pups are on their way.” As he removed his knee from between Emelia’s thighs, his dark eyes glazed over. “Meet me at the corner. Ten seconds.” His tone changed into something slithery and dark. He wasn’t talking to her…but to whom, then?

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, you’re coming. Whether you’re unconscious or not is up to you.” His fingers gouged into the back of her neck like she was a disobedient dog as he dragged her toward the street. Emelia tugged against him, skidding her heels over the concrete. A black Suburban screeched to a stop at the corner and the rear passenger door kicked open. Two shadowed forms lurked inside.

Oh, hell no.

She fought against him harder, tried to rip his fingers off her neck, tugging and pulling at his arm. She tried to trip him, tangling her legs in his. Still, he dragged her as if she weighed nothing.

“Don’t make me knock you out.” He snatched the mound of hair on her head and pulled.

Emelia yelped, both hands flying to her head as he jerked her along. There wasn’t much time. She’d taken enough self-defense classes to know that once she got in the SUV, she was good as dead.

Thinking fast, Emelia craned her neck around and yelled, “Drake!” as if she saw him coming.

It was enough to make the stranger turn. Emelia took the opening and kneed him in the crotch. He hit the ground, choking on air. She bolted. Through the trees. Across the grass. Her heels sunk in, slowing her pace, so she ripped them off.

“Help!” City hall was close, its pillars towering over her. They had to have a side door. “Somebody help me!”

Something slammed into Emelia from behind. She tripped, landing face-first in the wet grass. Piercing pain shot through her nose, making her eyes water and her temples throb. She flipped over, gasping as she stared into a pair of onyx-black, pissed-off wolf eyes. Emelia trembled, her breath pushing past her lips staccato and cold.

The wolf had Emelia pinned, one gigantic paw on either side of her head. Showing its razor-sharp teeth, the wolf growled and went rigid as if it was filled with rage. Fur on its head stood on end and its lips pulled back in a hideous snarl. Then, with a haunting howl that split the night, it bit into Emelia’s neck. Jagged teeth sank in deep, pulling at tendon and muscle. Screams got lost in Emelia’s throat as she gasped for air. The wolf tore its head from side to side, gnashing its teeth in her skin. Searing pain mixed with terror filled Emelia’s body, from head to foot, blood to bone.

The wolf pulled back, its muzzle dripping in blood.

Her blood.

If I bit you in the exact same place, you’d die a long, painful death.
The stranger’s words echoed through her head as the wolf bared its canines and reared up. Emelia cringed and pinched her eyes tight, bracing for the wolf—or the man behind the wolf’s eyes—to kill her.

From out of nowhere, a second wolf crashed into the first. Clutching the gaping wound on her neck, Emelia maneuvered herself around, scrambling over the grass. Two wolves circled round and round, snapping and snarling at one another. Only they didn’t complete a full pacing circle. The darker of the two wolves, the one who’d saved her, didn’t seem to want to let the other near her. As the lighter wolf leaped in Emelia’s direction, the darker wolf growled and chomped at its neck. When the lighter wolf darted the opposite direction, the darker matched its flash of movement.

They were equal size—larger than pictures of wolves Emelia had seen—with thick black fur and hunched backs. They moved with the same deadly stealth and attacked with the same brute strength. They could’ve been the same wolf. Brothers, maybe.

Wait…hadn’t the stranger called Drake his brother? Hadn’t the wolf attacked Emelia seconds after she kneed the stranger in the family jewels? Beyond the wolves, the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

Couldn’t be, yet the word resounded in Emelia’s brain like a gong.

Brothers. Werewolves.

Chest constricting, Emelia crawled backward, her feet catching on the tail of her dress. She couldn’t pry her eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of her. It was like a horrible car crash unfolding in slow motion. The darker wolf chomped into the lighter wolf’s neck. It howled, then sliced its paws over the darker one’s back. They tumbled, throwing each other aside, clambering to their huge paws, then attacking again.

As Emelia’s vision blurred, she touched her neck and came away with a hand smeared with blood. It ran down her arm, red and thick, soaking the embossed petals in her dress. She was losing too much. She was going to bleed out on the grass in front of city hall. What a historic moment that would be!

Howls came from all around her—beside her, above her, from the hall itself. The sound was loud and muffled, like a distant trumpet announcing battle. Emelia supposed she simply had to wait for the soldiers to arrive.

She tried to get to her feet and slipped as dizziness set in. Defeated by her lack of strength, Emelia clutched the cool lawn and pressed her face against it. The dampness of the grass somehow soothed her, calming her racing heart. One wolf—she couldn’t tell which since their colors had blended together—glared at the other down its nose and growled so deeply that it shook the earth. The other wolf growled back, lower, though no less menacing, then took off running toward the black blur parked on the street.

It wasn’t two shuddering breaths before Emelia was surrounded by howls and stomping feet. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sound of Drake’s voice penetrated her weary haze. “It’ll be all right, Emie. I promise I’ll make everything all right.”