Claimed by Drago Wolf (Magnificent Beasts Book 1)

by Ana Calin

  “I could make Prince Charming real for you tonight,” I slur, and I mean every word. Arianna smiles, only glancing at me before she turns her eyes to the window again.

  “You sure look like every woman’s wet dream. And every man’s nightmare.”

  I grin. “I suppose.”

  “About that. You’re a cage fighter, you beat people up for money. I’m not sure I’m okay with giving myself to someone like that, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do, but you make it sound worse than it is. Those I beat up are not good people, Arianna.”

  “Well, the girls discovered two fan pages for you on social media. You don’t just beat them, you annihilate them.”

  “Trust me, I only fight men my own size. I never take on fighters that are weaker than me.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m judging you. It’s just that....” She averts her eyes, bites her lip, and wrings her hands between her knees. God, what I want to do to her right now. “I’m not very good with violence. My dad, when he raised his voice, it....” She swallows, trying to pull herself back together. “Let’s just say him raising his voice was enough to raise the goose bumps on my arms.”

  “I’m sorry.” Simple words, but they’re charged with truth. “If anyone knows what that feels like, it’s me.”

  She looks up at my face, her powder blue eyes sparkling with a sense of connection. “You suffered from domestic violence, too?”

  “You can put it that way. My dad died trying to protect my brothers and me back when I was four. We were raised in an orphanage. We looked to the headmaster for affection. What we got were whips.”

  She gasps. “Whipping? Really?”

  “He had a flog for naughty children.” I smile, brushing a wavy strand of silky black hair off her shoulder, the tip of my finger grazing the back of her neck. Her lips part, and she’s lost in my eyes. She’s vulnerable to me now, connected, and I have to take advantage. It’s now or never.

  “Arianna?” I say alluringly.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you let me see you?”

  A shy smile trembles on her lips. “You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m looking at the image you want me to see. I want to see you as you really are.”

  “You mean without makeup?”

  I explore her face, tracing her cheek gently with my finger. “There’s a sacred reason why people have faces. Their features and their lines tell a story, the story of who they truly are.”

  “There’s really a technique for that?”

  “A whole science. You can find ancient books on face reading.”

  “Is that something you do with all your clients? Read their faces?”

  “To be completely honest with you, I haven’t been interested in anyone the way I am in you.”

  “You tell every girl that, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  She makes to stand up. I don’t like the idea of her putting distance between us, and I grab her hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “If you want to see my face, I’m gonna have to wipe off the makeup.”

  I hold her gaze, trying to make sense of the feelings and sensations raging inside of me. I never wanted from a woman what I want from her, and I don’t even know exactly what that is. But I could start with this. “Will you let me do it?”

  She looks confused. “Do what?”

  “Look, you say you haven’t done this—us right here—before.” I struggle to find words, and I decide on the most direct ones. “Let’s call things by their names, all right? You’ve never been with someone like me—a callboy—before. You haven’t been with a man at all after your ex. It’s only fair that this would be my first time in at least one way.”

  “You mean you never saw one of your clients without makeup before?”

  “I mean I never cared to, and I never felt the desire to do it myself, like I do now.” I come to my feet, standing a head and a half taller than her, looking down at her bewildered face.

  “All right,” she whispers. “Wait here.”

  She goes to the bathroom, and with every step she takes a piece of me goes with her. What the hell is going on?

  I run both my hands through my hair, trying not to act restless before she returns. When she does, she carries a bottle of creamy liquid that looks expensive, and a few cotton pads. She holds them up with an apologetic smile.

  “Every girl’s basics. Cleanser and pads. Janine thought I might need beauty products while we’re here.” She fidgets on her feet, mortified. “Or after, you know.”

  I smile, anticipation making my heart beat as hard as hers. I can hear and feel her, and I’m amazed at how our body rhythms have started to match.

  I take her hand, and lead her to the bed. We sit down, angled towards each other, Arianna’s eyes locked on mine as I reach out and adjust the lamp. Even the light is intimate in this cozy rustic room.

  Arianna keeps her hands clamped together in her lap as I squeeze cleanser onto the cotton pad. I apply too much force, and too much cleanser squirts out.

  “Apologies,” I mutter, my voice already gruff in anticipation.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she says. “You will need all of it, trust me.”

  I touch the pad to her cheek, swiping in circles, the layer of foundation clearing from her face. I move slowly, greedy for every patch of skin that I uncover. But I feel Arianna’s insecurity and her discomfort, her body becoming tenser with every bit of her face that becomes exposed to me.

  She brings another bottle, smaller this time, the content transparent, and fresh cotton pads for the eyes, because the eyes need special treatment, she says. In a few minutes she looks at me with the round face and bright blue eyes of a water nymph, her cheeks flushing with emotion.

  “Wow,” I whisper. “You’re so beautiful. I know it’s a cliché, but trust me, it’s the pure truth.”

  A smile pulls at her small mouth, dimples forming in her cheeks. “Maybe you mean it, but I still don’t believe it.”

  I take the sides of her face in my hands, bending so close to her that I can smell the cleanser on her skin. “I don’t understand. Most pretty women I know think even more of themselves than they actually are. But you aren’t aware of how beautiful you are. You’re so....” I’m searching for the proper word, but I pick the first one that comes to mind, and that rings closest to the truth. “Special.”

  We’re both silent for a few moments. I can’t get enough of her, and I struggle to make sense of that. Then Arianna breaks the silence.

  “Now I understand why so many women want you. You’re not only wildly handsome, you’re also good with words. They say the path into a woman’s pants is through her ears.”

  “You think I’m wildly handsome?”

  “You know you are.”

  I stand, holding out my hand for her.

  “The perfect date. I suppose it includes the perfect dinner, doesn’t it?” I’m thinking about taking her out of here on my bike, but her answer surprises me.

  “Actually, it doesn’t. It includes sitting outside on the balcony and watching the stars.” She glances at the tumbler of vodka lemon she left on the chest of drawers. “And a few drinks.”

  “I must admit I’m surprised. Most girls would insist on candles, red roses and love declarations.”

  “Oh, I have nothing against love declarations.” She jokes, but I can imagine actually doing it, if only for her fun.

  She stands, picks up the two folded quilts from the bed, and takes my hand. When her fingers lace with mine, my blood runs out of control.... The feel of that smooth little hand on my calloused, rough skin.... It’s increasingly difficult to resist pulling her close and claiming her mouth in a kiss.

  I let her guide me to the wood-and-glass door of the balcony, which she slides open. The chill of the early spring night flows in, causing Arianna to shudder. My first instinct is to wind my arm around her. I’m bigger and broader
than her, just standing by her side gives me the feeling that I can protect her from anything. But she wraps the quilt around herself, covering her mouthwatering body completely. Now the special beauty of her face stands out even more. Damn, there’s something about this woman that hypnotizes me.

  “You need one, too?” She offers the other quilt, but I shake my head.

  I switch off the lights before I step after her onto the balcony, the stars now fat and bright in the sky. We sit together on the cushioned bench, my arm around her shoulders, and I can tell the view is amazing to Arianna. She relaxes, cuddling into my side with the quilt around her, only her small hand sticking out from under it, cupping the tumbler that I refilled. I enjoy the scent of her skin, breathing in deeply.

  “I know it doesn’t sound very original,” she says quietly, “but I feel amazing right now. This vast canopy of stars reminds me how small we are in the universe.”

  I look up, not feeling relaxed at all. I can’t relax when this woman is so close to me, and I’m so aware of her delicious body in spandex under the quilt. But I’m more used to nature than Arianna. As a werewolf, I shift a lot in the woods, howling at the stars, and taking in the power of the universe that she’s now so amazed at. As if on cue, a wolf howls in the distance, and Arianna cringes. My arm tightens around her shoulders, my big hand spreading almost over her entire upper arm.

  “I always wondered why wolves do that,” she says. “It scares me, but it also fills me with awe and respect for nature.”

  “There are many explanations for animals’ howling, but the best one I heard said they take energy from the universe.”

  “And you think that’s true?”

  “I think there’s something to it.”

  Silence surrounds us apart from a few early spring crickets in the bushes, the breeze and the occasional howling wolf. I realize that we are, indeed, sharing a very special moment, and I’m grateful this isn’t a full moon night. On full moon nights the shifting is compelling, and it’s especially hard for werewolves to fight the urge.

  I realize that I may not be able to resist the urge to shift if I ever were to spend a full moon night with Arianna Parker. She stirs primal instincts in me almost as powerful as the base animal that gives me my supernatural power.

  “Why do you even do this job,” Arianna inquires softly, her body relaxing more and more against mine. She’s growing comfortable with me. “I mean, you don’t look like the kind of man who needs to make his money that way. Not to mention that, well....” She pauses, clearly unsure how to put it. I smile, sipping from my own vodka lemon.

  “You can speak freely. Especially since we’re sharing a special moment.”

  She angles her body so that she’s still plastered to my side, but also looking at me. It’s even more intimate, her warmth and her scent even stronger, and it’s doing shit to me. With every moment that passes my blood boils hotter. I’ll have to either get from her what I need, or leave before I lose control and just take it.

  “I don’t know much about cage fighting,” she says. “But I gather that fighters make more money from the bets than male escorts could ever dream of.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then why sleep with women for money? Is it like, a passion job?”

  “If what you’re asking is whether I’m a hobby gigolo, no.” I reach under her chin, lifting it with two fingers to make her look at me and see that I’m telling her the truth. “Arianna, I can’t explain to you why I’m doing this, because I would be betraying more than just my own secrets. But trust me, I’m not doing it because I’m a douche.”

  She frowns, a line between her nicely arched eyebrows. “Drago, are you being forced into this? Like women often are?”

  I smile. “I like the sound of my name from your lips.” And her naivety, but I refrain from saying it.

  Securing her drink between her knees, she takes my face between her hands. The beast gives a low growl inside of me, the first sign that it’s not gonna be able to resist much longer.

  “Drago, if you’re going through the same things women do, being forced into prostitution by underground lords and stuff, please tell me, I can help you.”

  I laugh, genuinely amused, but also touched by her caring. “It’s different, and it’s nothing you can help me with. Besides, it’s not like it’s the worst job in the world.”

  The compassion in her face wanes. “So it is a pleasure job, at least in part.”

  “Is this part of your ideal date, talking about such unpleasant subjects?”

  “Well, people do talk about jobs and career choices on their first dates, don’t they?”

  “Then let’s say mine happens to be controversial.” It hits me. I tilt my head to the side with a question. “Imagine this date were real. Let’s say you’re genuinely interested in me for a relationship. Would my job be a deal breaker?”

  She thinks about it, pursing her small mouth. “I guess it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how genuinely interested you’d be in me.” She licks her lips, and her cheeks flush crimson as she asks, “If you’d met me under different circumstances, would you have asked me out? Am I even your type?”

  My eyes glide down from her pretty dimples to her small, inviting mouth. Without a second thought I bend down and close my mouth over those cherry-like lips that feel soft, hot and fragile.

  I wind my arms around her, pressing her to my body, her huge breasts full and soft against my fight-hardened chest. My cock reacts, straining against my jeans. By all devils, I want this woman, and I want her badly. When she moans softly, abandoning herself to my kiss, the beast inside roars.

  My arms tighten around her, pulling her into me. I’ve fucked many women in my life, but I never desired one the way I desire Arianna Parker.

  CHAPTER III

  Arianna

  I can’t believe that Drago Wolf’s tongue is inside my mouth, claiming me hungrily. My head is spinning, and I’m not sure if it’s from all the vodka, or the stormy way that I feel he wants me. And the way that I want him. My body responds to him so strongly, it’s as if it recognizes him on a deeper level.

  I ache with need between my legs, squeezing my thighs together in a useless attempt to keep control. It only stimulates my long neglected nub. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t touched myself all this time I’ve been single, but the release was simple and utilitarian in the absence of a crush, someone to fantasize about. Movie stars only take climaxes so far. But now, with a man I drool over so close to me, wanting me, every bit of my body burns.

  Drago Wolf, he’s a ravenous beast with arms of steel and a demanding kiss that makes my head swim. I manage to squeeze my hands between us and push him gently, signaling that I need a break.

  Drago peels his lips off mine, his eyes smoldering with want.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gruff. “Did I come on too strong?”

  I’m panting, my head still in a haze. “It’s just, I’ve never been kissed this way before.”

  His perfectly contoured lips curl in a sexy grin. “Never is a long time.”

  My lips burn from his kiss, my palms hot on his pecs that feel like rocks beneath my hands.

  “I haven’t had many boyfriends in my life. Only my high-school sweetheart, and then Sullivan. So I only kissed two people before you, as crazy as that sounds.”

  “Sullivan? That is your ex’s name?”

  I nod.

  “But let’s not talk about him now,” I whisper, giving in to the desire. I won’t be able to fight this attraction anyway, I might as well stop tormenting myself and him. I raise my face to him for another kiss, but although Drago’s arms squeeze me close, he keeps his head up.

  “Do you still see him? Your ex?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It wouldn’t, if I were your callboy tonight. But I’m your date. I want to know.”

  “I thought we were only playing date.”

  “And we wer
e making it realistic.”

  “Then answer the question you let go unanswered. In a different context, would you have asked me out? Would you have found me attractive?”

  He lets the idea sink in, probably considering how it would have been under different circumstances.

  “I think I would have run away from you.”

  My hopes collapse.

  “Run away,” I repeat in a breath, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t let me. His black eyes burn with something dark and dangerous.

  “You do things to me, Arianna,” he says in his seductive voice. “Scary things. I know it sounds conceited, but it’s the truth—I’m used to women wanting me like this, not the other way around. I never craved a woman this way.”

  He closes his eyes, smelling me like a man sampling wine.

  “The things I want to do to you, Arianna. I want to see you sprawled on the bed, your thighs open and your pussy glistening for me, your nipples hard and wanting, oh, good God.” He claims my lips, his mouth much stronger than mine, crushing me.

  Jesus, the man is irresistible. My arms slide over his powerful shoulders around his neck, the quilt falling off my shoulders. I let him pull me into him and kiss me deeply, inhaling his musky scent of man and leather, tasting his kiss.

  Before I know it, Drago Wolf has me on my back on the bench, the spandex unzipped at my chest, freeing my breasts from the push-up bra. Shame runs through me as I look down at myself, my breasts sticking out white and quivering from the black spandex outfit. It makes me feel vulnerable and dirty.

  I try to push Drago away, but his eyes are burning, roaming over my breasts, his huge, calloused hands grabbing them greedily.

  “God, your tits,” he growls like a beast, and my blood shoots hot all through my body. I should be outraged, push him away, scream and try to get out of here. But everything about this makes me so horny that I’m all wet beneath the spandex.