Billionaire Heir (Erotic Romance Bundle)

by Dalia Daudelin

  I snort, crossing my arms. Aimar shrugs, his lips quirked up in a smug smile.

  “That's fucked up, Aimar. There's not even any point to that, you already run the biggest pack in Michigan. Hell, maybe it's the biggest pack in the country at this point.”

  “That's not the point, you stupid bitch!” He barks. I grimace, shutting my eyes. When he yells at me, images of being beaten by him flash before my eyes. My hands start to shake, my forehead going sweaty. “I don't care about growing my pack! I care about stopping the Druids!”

  “The Druids?” Grant asks, cocking his head.

  Aimar points to the lake, its strange lanterns glowing now with lunar power from the full moon. “The Druids, the foul beasts that worship around this lake. The foul beasts that massacred the hippies that settled in the homes that the Druids built in the 1960s. Do you really not know of them? Do you really not know of their goals? I sensed that you were a werewolf hunter. Was I wrong?” Aimar looks from me, to Grant.

  “No, you weren't wrong,” Grant says.

  “Geraldo North was his grandfather,” I tell him. Grant winces at the name, but I step forward because Aimar winced too. “And he's going to kill you.”

  “If you kill me, the Druids will raise The Lady of Lakes!” Aimar screams, putting his hands up to stop me from pressing closer to him still. “She'll destroy us all, Susi! Not just the werewolves, but humans too! Koirankoppi Forest will be decimated, and the world will bend to them! The prophecies – ”

  “The prophecies! You mean your visions when you were high off of weed laced with monkshood?! You're mad!” I yell, lunging forward.

  Aimar transforms back into a werewolf, lunging not for me but for Grant. Grant just barely steps out of the wolf's way, moving instinctively, his feet sliding across the dirt. He punches Aimar hard in the muzzle as the wolf leaps by him, sending the hound flying through the air.

  Grant circles the silver sword around him, light from the full moon glinting off of it as he faces the injured wolf. He lunges again, aiming for Grant's throat, his teeth tearing off a layer of flesh from Grant's neck.

  The full moon. Aimar is at full strength. Grant stands no chance.

  Aimar's growl goes deeper, his body seeming to grow larger as the moon moves higher in the sky. If I don't stop him, Aimar is going to kill Grant. I yell, fury and fear building within me, and my hands transform into paws, my face elongating into a wolf's muzzle.

  I slam my body against the white wolf, digging my claws into his ribs. He whines, high pitched, and whips his head back to get a bite of my arm. I leap back, then lunge into him again, my teeth digging into his ribs.

  He flips me over, onto my back, and bites my hind leg, straight through the thigh. I howl, struggling to get away from his teeth.

  I see the flash of moonlight off of silver, and just barely duck my head before Grant hacks into Aimar. The white wolf tries to move out of the way, but is much too slow and focused on killing me. The sword hits his spine. Aimar kicks out, sending Grant flying and into a tree. Grant doesn't move.

  Filled with lunar power and bloodlust, I finish my job, biting into Aimar's heaving chest and devouring his heart. I eat it, whole, giving him exactly what he wanted to give to me. A painful death. He whimpers as the light in his eyes go out, his blood spilling into the soil.

  Chapter 8

  I scrub my face in the cool water of Nymfi lake, struggling to get the blood off of it. I killed him. I killed him and ate his heart. I don't feel more powerful.

  I just feel like I want to be sick.

  The water hitting my face has just started running clear when I feel someone touch my shoulder. I freeze, whipping my head around to look at whoever dares to stop me from cleaning myself. I'm still murderous, drunk with energy and hatred and the urge to kill.

  The touch comes from Grant. Beautiful, kind Grant, the werewolf hunter that treats a werewolf too kind. My savior.

  He stoops down and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight, and for a second the restriction is calming. I shut my eyes and breathe in his scent, willing my heart to beat in time with his. Then I feel overwhelmed, my nerves firing and my body aching to be free.

  I turn around and push Grant to the ground, standing over him. There is fear in his eyes at first, a look that stings when it's directed at me. I don't want him to fear me, damn it!

  When I take off the t-shirt he gave me, though, the look changes. He admires my body, looking over my tanned skin with approval. The rising tent in his pants tells me all I need to know about his consent. I undo his pants, and hope that in time he will learn: I either fuck, or I kill, and he probably prefers the fuck.

  I lower onto my knees above him, taking his rigid cock with my hand and guiding it towards my cunt. I stroke myself with it, pleasuring my clitoris with my face towards the sky, my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Mmm,” I moan, swirling my hips as I play with him. He groans his approval, too.

  I guide his cock to the opening of my slit and slowly sit down on it, forcing him into me. He's still so damn big that it hurts, but the pain goes away almost instantly.

  I wonder how in the hell I managed to take it all last time, but I keep lowering myself until my ass sits against his balls. I lift myself up a bit, then push back down, repeating this until his cock was nice and wet and moved in and out of me easily.

  Grant presses his hips upward, and his cock hits my cervix. It hurts, but at the same time it feels so good. My eyes fly open. “Oh! Oh that's just right, do that again!”

  He pumps himself up into me as I move up and down on him, our movements perfectly timed so that Grant goes deeper into me than any man ever has before. I lean over him, dangling my tits over his mouth.

  Grant licks one of them as I push my wild red hair out of my face. He sucks the nipple into his mouth, kneading it with his lips and sending pleasure all through my body.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck!” I cry, riding Grant harder. “I'm going to cum soon!” I yell to the sky, then I sit up straight with Grant's cock deep within me, and I cum. I cum so hard that my eyes shut involuntarily, my toes and fingers curl, and my thighs twitch around Grant's hips. With my pussy spasming around him, Grant cums, too. He spills within me.

  I groan, and then I lay on top of him, my anger long gone and replaced now with a sexual haze. “You really fucked my brains out,” I whisper, my mouth barely moving. He smiles.

  The haze transitions, eventually, to a calm sadness. Aimar is gone, and though I am disgusted with myself for eating his heart, I no longer have to worry about him finding me and killing me over a stupid prophecy.

  I'll have to claim the rest of his pack, become their alpha, but save that for tomorrow. Tonight, I lay on Grant's chest, his prick still within me as our breathing slows under the full moon. I begin to weep, my face buried into his shoulder.

  “Susi? Are you okay?” He asks, gliding his hand over my hair.

  “I don't want to bring my mess into your life. Alice is only barely okay, and she got cursed because of me.”

  Grant is silent for a moment, and then a sigh. “I have a feeling that, whether or not you found us, we would have ended up dealing with something like this. I believe in fate, and I think yo

  I cry harder at that, to think that I had no choice but to ruin his life and nearly kill his precious daughter! Hukka, shoot an arrow through my heart now so that I may never bring harm to them again!

  He takes me by the shoulders and shakes me lightly. Hesitating, I look up into his evergreen eyes.

  There isn't one drop of hatred or disdain, no fear nor wrath. Just warmth and forgiveness. Just a man that thinks fondly of me.

  “I don't blame you, silly wolf. I never wanted a normal life, anyway.” He kisses my forehead. “Besides, I'm sure that Alice is just fine now that Aimar is dead.” He presses his lips against the top of my head, gently, like a butterfly landing on a flower.

  “So, you up for dinner with me this weekend?”

  I jump up in su
rprise, looking down at this beautiful man. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I'm serious! I have to get to know a woman I've made love to three times.” He winks, standing up and helping me up with him. He pulls me in for another embrace, sweet and soft and full of promises for the future.

  Good promises. I like these sorts of promises.

  “Come on, then, before we get sidetracked again. I haven't felt like this since I was a teen!”

  “Me neither!”

  “Hey, speaking of, how old are you?”

  I laugh as we pass by Nymfi lake, on our way to find Alice and Elette.

  Oh great Lady of Lakes…

  Come to us and hear our pleas…

  Take from us our sorrows…

  Right the wrongs done to us…

  A line of 23 ancient men and women in robes gather around the lake, its waters dark and foreboding. Their chant carries through the trees, seemingly echoed by every bird and animal nearby. Amplified with power and magic sourced from thousands of years ago.

  Their movements go from slow, fluid dancing to erratic thrusting and seizing, their hands high in the air. The air around them sizzles with electricity, becoming thicker with mist.

  Their movements come to a climax with shrill cries from a woman, only 15 and pure of blood and heart, is thrown into the lake. A particularly old looking man, his beard reaching past his knees, draws a bow towards the sky and lets loose a single arrow.

  It hits its mark, straight through the heart of the young woman. She cries once more, then sinks to the bottom of the lake.

  The lamps around the shore burn pink, then a bright and sinister red. A light emanates from the center of the lake, and from its depths comes a woman without a drop of water on her. She is entirely white, from her clothes, to her skin, to her hair. The only thing that isn't white is her glowing, golden eyes.

  The Lady of Lakes has risen.

  Down On Her Knees

  The Maid's Service

  Dalia Daudelin

  My mother owns a maid service, now that the economy has taken a nose dive. We used to be well off, my college was paid for and frequent vacations were typical for me. When I turned 16, though, just 2 years ago, my dad lost a lot of clients and I started working for my mom to help pay for things around the house.

  Now I use my money to pay for my small apartment and for college. I've cleaned the houses of soccer moms, who always have the most interesting things hiding in the back of their closets. And single dads, too, who hide their girly magazines under their beds like teenagers still. A job at a celebrity home here and there gives me plenty of gossip with my friends. Being a maid in California can be really interesting!

  I was 18 when I met Mr. Ampora. He and my dad had been friends for a while, and he knew we weren't doing so great, so he called my mom and scheduled a light cleaning while his regular help was on holiday. Since it was the week before Thanksgiving, the rest of the maids including my mother were all booked, so she called me one day.

  “Maria! I have an important job for you, are you free on Thursday?”

  I check my calendar, wiping my finger across the days. “Hmm... yeah, all I had was lunch with a friend. I can cancel that. What's the job?”

  “A rich man! He pays very well, Maria, so make sure you make his house spotless. He's friends with dad!” She sounds excited, but then my mom is always excited. It's infectious.

  The maid uniform is actually embarrassing. My mom wanted us to just wear pants, anything comfortable, but my dad pointed out that sex sells. Now, we have these ridiculous French maid uniforms. I have to admit, it does work. The houses where the men pay us for our work pay way more now that we wear them.

  Still, I hate feeling like I could have my ass smacked while mopping the floors, and my boobs are almost too big to fit in the top so it shows off too much cleavage. Mother insists that I wear it, though, so I do. Especially for Mr. Ampora. If he pays well, maybe he'll pay even better if I dress the part.

  Pulling onto the street where Mr. Ampora lives, I check my makeup quickly. I prefer not to wear it at all, but a little bit of mascara and lip stain never hurt anyone. My brown hair waved down to the middle of my back when I let it down, but I have it up in a bun to keep it from bothering me while I work. I look a little bit tired, but my light brown skin hides it well. I am blessed with my mother's beauty. Even though I've had many boyfriends, I'm still a virgin.

  I dig out an apple from my purse. I always keep one on hand in case I get hungry while I'm out. Biting into it, I savor the sweet and slightly sour taste and examine Mr. Ampora's home. It's huge, as large as you'd expect from someone like him. My dad told me that when he bought the house, he complained it was too small.

  On the front lawn is a dog trainer and a greyhound dog. The animal is learning how to dance on its hind legs, the trainer laughing a bit every time the hound failed. Driving up the driveway, I am met halfway by a man on a white horse, galloping along at the same speed as my car. I look out my window and notice the man's handsome face, perfectly framed by his short hair and hipster-style glasses. He's thin, but his body has a manly build.

  He looked down at me and smiled.

  I pulled my car in next to a black 1967 Chevy Impala, marveling at the beauty of the classic car as I step out from my own. A gust of wind flips the back of my dress up, showing off my panties to the man on the horse. My face turns hot and red as I press the skirt down until the wind passes. I grab my tools from my trunk and turn to walk to the man on the horse.

  Leaping from the large animal, he holds out his hand to me and shakes mine.

  “Hello, I'm Maria,” I say. “Would you happen to know where Mr. Ampora is?”

  The man smiles, placing both hands in the pocket of his slacks. “I am Mr. Ampora. Please just call me Eric. Come with me, I'll show you around.”

  Eric takes the bucket from me, his fingers touching mine softly. “What did you say your name was again?”

  I gasp, embarrassed that I forgot to introduce myself. “I'm Maria! Sorry!”

  He laughs, the sound deep and manly. “That's alright. Come with me. Thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

  I follow him up to the door, which is taller than most, with panes of glass set in it etched with beautiful geometric designs. He drops his riding crop into a pot on the front porch and opens the door, stepping aside to allow me to go through first. He has good manners!

  The mud room is minimalist, with a bench that opens at the top where shoes are stored. Eric sits to remove his riding boots, then places them within the bench. There was a hint of a bell as a cat walks past us and out the front door before it finally slides shut.

  Eric leads me through the living room, filled with cream colored chairs and a loveseat. Down a spiral staircase and then at the end of the hallway, we enter what must be the master bedroom.

  “This is my bedroom, Maria. I have cleaners throughout the rest of the house, but I do not trust them with my room even as much as I trust a stranger. I will be paying double your wage, since it is a large room, and you'll also be cleaning the bathroom. Take your time. I'll be back up to check on you in an hour.”

  I nodd with a smile, blushing at the handsome man who was treating me so well though I was so far below him in status. It is a nice change of pace, to be treated like a human. Before leaving, Eric turns and pointed to the bathroom door. “The cleaning supplies are in there.”

  Looking around the room, it is as elegant as something from a furniture catalog. The interior decorator of this mansion was definitely worth the money. There is a few pieces of ebony furniture, and large mirrors that looks like they dated back to the 1800s. The bed is large and looks fit for a king, with fluffy pillows and silk sheets.

  Going into the bathroom, I immediately knew this would be the room that needed the most work. It smells faintly of mildew, and the bath tub needed a good scrub. Certainly not the worst I have seen, however. The supplies Eric had mentioned are sitting on the sink, a l
ong slab of dark marble.

  I clean the bathroom quickly, scrubbing the tub until I'm breathing heavily. I'm going to smell like bleach for the rest of the day, but I'm used to that by now. The enamel that was once gray with soap scum is now beautiful and white. While I look over the bathroom, wiping toothpaste off the sink and refilling the toilet paper, Eric was watching me. I didn't notice until he knocked on the door frame.

  I jump and turn to see him holding a glass of water an a sandwich on a small place. “Sorry for scaring you,” he says, smiling. “I figured you would be hungry. How's the cleaning going?”

  “Well, I just finished the bathroom,” I say, wiping a hair out of my eyes before washing my hands. I don't know why, but part of me wants him to be proud of me.

  “I can see that. Did the tub give you a lot of trouble? My usual maid tends to neglect it.”

  I look at the now sparkling white tub, and back at Eric with a smile. “No, it's wasn't too bad. I've seen worse!”

  He turns and moves into his bedroom, and I follow him. He looks around, mentally taking note of everything he wants me to clean.

  “Well, for my room, could you do me a favor?” He pauses, waiting for me to answer. I have a bite of sandwich in my mouth, so I nod. “Take a look in some of the drawers and see what you can organize? I can never find my socks and it's making my life more hectic than it needs to be. Will you do that for me, Maria?”

  I swallow and set down the last bit of sandwich. “Sure, if you don't mind the invasion of privacy.”

  Bringing his hand to his chin, he thinks for a moment. “Hmm. Yes, I think that'll be fine. Just don't reveal any of my secrets!” With a laugh and a wave, he leaves the room. I swoon a bit, suddenly taken by how handsome he is.

  His bedroom isn't as bad as the bathroom by a long shot. I avoid the drawers until it's vacuumed and dusted, letters and bills in a neat pile on his desk. When I do finally open up a drawer, I find more mail. I sigh, noting that most of the letters are years old.