Wolf_A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance

by Miranda Martin

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Wolf

  A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance

  Miranda Martin

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  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Red Hot Preview: Dragon’s Baby

  Blurb

  What a big tongue you have! The better to eat you with, my innocence.

  Prince Zane

  The idea of me as a hero of any kind is laughable. I'm the one that draws the unsuspecting into the world of sin. Not the one that rescues them from it.

  That doesn't stop me from lying through my wolf-ish teeth, pretending to save luscious, sweet little Red when she finds herself alone in the dark up against my loup-garou.

  But there's no hero worship in her sharp eyes. Smart girl. I'm nobody's hero.

  But I need to play it right to get closer to her.

  Ruby Devaux

  All I wanted was to be free to choose my own life. Free from my over-protective, smothering family. Free from all their expectations.

  Instead I ran headlong into the arms of trouble. Smoking hot, devilishly handsome trouble that won't take no for an answer.

  The kind of trouble that wants to eat me up. Literally.

  *** Wolf is an over-the-top, spun sugar sweet and filthy STANDALONE modern fairy tale romance novella with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after. ***

  Copyright © 2017 Miranda Martin

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  Ruby

  “See you later, guys."

  "Bye, Ruby."

  "See ya."

  I wave goodbye to my friends Elle and Isa as I turn down the street towards my building. The farther I move away from the school, the more worn and old everything looks. Not quite as clean, not quite as well kept.

  By the time I reach our high-rise, the street isn't great, but it isn't unsafe. It’s on the right side of the invisible line after which it really isn't a good idea to go out alone at night.

  I walk into the lobby with the peeling wallpaper and dingy flooring. There was a seating area at one point, but the furniture has long since been taken away. Either by people who needed it or by the landlord who probably sold it for a few bucks.

  The elevator is as old as the building, patched up every time it gives way.

  I step inside and push the button for our floor. I hold my breath the whole way up, hoping I'm not going to have to call the landlord to fish me out of the elevator shaft.

  It's happened before.

  But I make it all the way up and the elevator doors slide open for me without even a squeak.

  I walk down the hall, my footsteps silent so as not to set off the sound activated advertisements installed in the hallway. It's a skill I've developed over the years that really saves on annoyance.

  I stop in front of our door, which is almost sparkling clean because Mom makes sure it stays that way. It makes the rest of the hall look worse in comparison. Pressing my thumb into the scanner to open the door, it doesn't do anything. No whirring, no telltale light.

  Typical.

  "Come on," I mutter, hitting it on the side with an impatient thump of my fist.

  Probably not the best thing to do to it, but it's been on its last legs for six months now. We've been trying to squeeze out every last bit of use we can before we have to replace it. Hence the thumping. The sound activates some of the ads displayed in the hall, chipper voices sounding and garish colors flashing, trying to get my attention.

  Great. I don't know why they bother buying ad space in this particular building anyway. It's not like any of us really has any money to spend on anything but rent and food.

  The third hit from the side of my fist finally has the scanner whirring into some semblance of life.

  "It's alive!" I mutter under my breath. I sigh, waiting as it scans my print.

  A new one would definitely do this faster, but they aren't cheap. Plus side—I get a sense of accomplishment from just getting through to the thing.

  The door slides open and I walk inside the cramped apartment. It's two bedrooms, with a small kitchen and postage stamp living area, but I suspect the second bedroom may have originally been designed as storage. The joys of space being at a premium these days.

  Though I'm lucky to have a bedroom of my own. It isn't like we're swimming in money from Dad's art, so I appreciate that my parents tried to find some space to give me privacy.

  I'm thinking about what I want to eat and what homework I have to get done when I notice movement in the living room. It's my parents. They're waiting for me, their faces set in stern lines.

  My heart immediately clenches. This can't be good.

  I quickly run through everything that happened in the last couple of days and can't think of anything they'd be mad about. But it's hard to predict sometimes. They have so many rules and restrictions sometimes it's hard for me to keep track. Recently, their love is starting to smother me, to be honest.

  "Hi?" I try with a tentative smile.

  They glare at me, always a unit.

  I sigh. Yup. This isn't going to be fun.

  "Sit down, young lady," my mother orders, pointing at the patched chair set across from the threadbare sofa. "We have to talk."

  "Right now? But I just got home from school—can't it wait?" I say, trying to at least get a reprieve from whatever lecture they want to give me.

  "Sit," Dad says tersely.

  Great. I sit, rubbing my palms on my jeans, my mind continuing to whir with the possibilities. I've been really careful to come back before curfew, I know my grades are good… What could have prompted this kind of response?

  "Did you watch something on your Heads Up Display? Perhaps about twenty minutes ago?" Mom prods, her eyes narrowed.

  Twenty minutes ago? I frown.

  I came straight home from school, not wanting them to worry. I didn't even cue up my HUD because I was walking with Isa and Elle…

  My stomach turns over. Oh no.

  Elle.

  The porn clip she sent Isa and I.

  My face flushes with embarrassment at the thought that my parents know I've seen it. That naked, writhing couple.

  Oh God. I wish I could just sink right into the floor right about now.

  "Yes," Dad says, nodding. "We know. You know we have the parental controls set up on your HUD."

  "Why would you even watch filth like that?" Mom demands. "We want you to focus on school—that kind of thing has no place in your mind!"

  "It wasn't my idea!" I cry out, frustrated. "Elle sent me the link and I didn't know what it was until I opened it!"

  "Do you think we were born yesterday?" she scoffs. "And mayb
e you shouldn't be hanging out with friends like Elle if this is the trash they draw you into."

  "You can't mean that. You've known Elle as long as I have!" She's been one of my best friends since elementary school, though Mom and Dad have been starting to look at her with some suspicion as we grow older.

  Like they're not sure she's the best influence on me. Sure, we don't always see eye to eye, but I love her like a sister.

  "We still haven't heard an apology. You need to take responsibility for your actions," Dad adds. "We're going to disable your HUD for a week as punishment."

  What? A week? Now I start to get irritated.

  "How am I going to do my homework without it?" I demand. "I do all of my assignments using it!"

  "We'll enable it for two hours each night, under supervision," Mom says, her voice firm. "This is nonnegotiable."

  I throw my arms up in the air, beyond fed up at this point. Being punished for something that isn't even my fault is ridiculous.

  "You're being completely unreasonable," I try again. "I didn't go looking for porn and even if I did, I'm eighteen! A legal adult! I can watch it if I want to!"

  "Not while you're under our roof you won't," Dad says calmly, his face tight with anger.

  The familiar wave of helplessness and frustration when I talk to them these days is overwhelming. I know they love me. And I love them. But they still treat me like a child. Like I can't think for myself or decide what I want.

  "You already had me at my age," I point out, needing to shine light on the hypocrisy of it all. "You'd already had sex, gotten pregnant, and had a baby. And you're on my case about a porn clip I didn't even want to see in the first place? Why do you have to be on my case all the time! I feel like I'm being smothered!"

  Mom's face turns white as Dad's darkens in anger.

  "That's enough," he barks, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  "That's exactly why we don't want you growing up too fast," Mom says quietly, her eyes entreating. "You're the best thing that ever happened to us, but we want you to have more than we do. We want your life to be better, we want you to have more opportunity. We want what's best for you. Don't you see?"

  Guilt trip. As usual. No discussion would be complete without it.

  Letting out a frustrated huff, I get up.

  "Where are you going?" Dad demands, standing as well.

  "To my room. Or is that not allowed either? Should I stay in front of you where you can watch my every move?" I shoot back, stalking over to my door.

  I'm so done with this. They don't say anything as I shut the door behind myself and fall onto the narrow bed. It's all that can fit into this cubby that masquerades as a room.

  I have the urge to scream at the top of my lungs, but I settle for punching the pillow instead. I'm so tired of always being held back from everything! From attempting anything! I find myself shying away from things before even trying them because I know my parents won't like it.

  I try to be good, coming in early, studying hard, staying away from boys. But nothing ever seems like it's enough for them.

  It's exhausting. Draining, frustrating.

  I want to do more. I want to experience life. And I know as long as I'm here, they'll never let me do that. They can't. It's not in their natures. They'll always be hovering, trying to watch my every move, control what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with.

  Sighing, I turn over onto my back, staring at the water stained ceiling, wondering when I'm going to actually be able to live.

  Chapter 2

  Zane

  I lean back in my chair, watching the casino floor through the one way mirror. I built the back room of The Blue Moon to ensure I would have a good view of what’s going on in the hub of the place.

  I have a set of monitors on the other side of the room so I can watch each individual table if I want to, but sometimes I like to look at the scene as a whole, get a feel for the vibe of the night and any hint of something off.

  The whole picture is often more telling than any individual detail. I've predicted more than one fight or incident of cheating simply based on the feel of the place on any given night.

  But tonight…everything looks pretty damn standard tonight. I almost wish there was something more for me to do. Restlessness runs through me, nibbling at my edges.

  I turn my attention to the dealers. I just recently upgraded them to the more realistic models with better artificial intelligence. So far, they seem to be working out just fine. I watch as one of the pretty androids smiles at a member and deals the cards in a blur of motion, her exposed mechanical bottom-half moving silently from patron to patron.

  With the addition of better human interaction coupled with speed, accuracy, and efficiency of the machine, I've increased revenue by a significant amount. The members of Moon appreciate the practical efficiency of the androids, but one can't get around the human desire to look at a pretty face.

  A pretty face that knows how to flirt.

  People are basic at our cores. No matter how evolved we may say we are, our primal urges still affect our everyday decision making. And I'm happy to take advantage of that fact. I make sure I create an environment that projects money and class, while also whispering to that animal inside all of us.

  Humans and Singarti alike, though ours may be stronger.

  The dealers, the atmosphere created by the dark wood and dim lighting, the exclusivity of the club—all reasons why membership is so sought after. And why this particular business is so lucrative for me.

  Usually, I amuse myself thoroughly watching my private casino club's patrons flirt and lose their money, while keeping an eye out for any potential problems. I can predict behavior for the most part, but even I'm surprised sometimes.

  Keeps things interesting.

  But tonight, I'm too distracted to really let any of this reach me. I can't seem to get the confrontation with Adir out of my head. I frown, looking away from the smoke filled interior of the club as I think back to what happened. What's been happening.

  Adir's slow but inexorable slide came on incrementally. So gradually that Herne and I didn't even realize it until recently. But the beginnings of a snout, the denser hair growth, the elongated ears, his increasing inability to control his inner beast… He's getting dangerously close to going feral and I’m more than a little guilty for not noticing sooner, not trying to get to him sooner.

  I rub my face roughly. I probably shouldn't have ribbed him about taking the brunette females at the cotillion, but I didn’t realize exactly how far he's slipped. How even a harmless joke like that could set him off, engage his beast so thoroughly. That he would actually physically attack me over what was obviously meant as a joking shot at his preference for that particular type of woman.

  He didn't used to be like this. He could volley back insults and jokes with the best of them, not letting anything really get to him. He's different. And the fact that he refuses to acknowledge the obvious signs that his inner beast is taking over is concerning. Very concerning.

  Only he can really do anything about controlling or reversing the progression, the downward slide of his beast starting to take over. We can talk until we're blue in the face, but neither Herne or I can do anything unless Adir decides he needs to address the matter.

  The whole thing is eye opening and a primal reminder of my own need to control my Wolf. I haven't really thought about myself for a long time. This’s probably exactly how Adir has ended up in the state he's in now. In fact, it's forcing me to take a long, hard look at myself. Check in with my inner avarice, look at my own decisions and actions.

  I'm not as far gone as Adir, yet, but I'm not as in control as Herne either. I like to indulge, perhaps a little too much. The women, the money, the strokes to my ego. I have many vices, all of them entertaining. And I really thought I was beating the system, having my cake and eating it too. Indulging myself well also keeping a tight reign on my wolf. But…

  But perhaps I'm slipping
as well.

  I rub at the heavy stubble on my face even though I only shaved a few hours ago. The signs of my inner animal are there, though not as intense yet. But I definitely need to watch myself.

  I look over as the door opens and Ryan, the security at the door, lets two red-heads inside with a knowing look at me. My employees know what I gravitate towards and often try to find it for me. Something I usually appreciate but I guess tonight is a night where usually just doesn't apply. All I feel is a sense of irritation and obligation at their appearance. I smile automatically at the skimpily dressed human females, their tight, glittery dresses barely covering their asses. Dressed for attention.

  They giggle as they sway over, not drunk, but not completely sober. Alcohol or a hit of something that exchanges hands in the dark corners of the club. I keep a close eye on those under the table transactions, though I don't have security get involved unless it looks like someone might be hurt. It's people's business what they want to put in their own bodies.

  "Hello there, Prince Zane," the first girl says in a sultry voice as she runs a finger down the side of my neck, her overly glossed lips parting in a smile, her eyes calculating. Someone used to getting her way using what nature and the plastic surgeon gave her.

  I'm not the right mark for that kind of gamble.

  "Up for some fun?" her friend asks, coming up on my other side, her hand going to my arm and squeezing my bicep, making sure to bend over enough that I tell she isn't wearing a bra.

  Blatant and shameless. Not something I'm generally opposed to. I should be taking them up on their offers. They're serving themselves up on a platter, easy pickings. I could dive right in and have a nice time, see them off without a promise for more.

  But…they leave me cold.

  There's no game, no conquest, no satisfaction in corrupting them. You can't corrupt those that who are already too far gone. They've already done a thorough job of doing it themselves. And that line of thought is just another sign of my own loss of control, of my own slow slide into danger.