Claimed by Drago Wolf (Magnificent Beasts Book 1)

by Ana Calin

  Drago. There’s nothing in the world I want more than him, but there’s one last thing I’d like to do before I leave Darkwood Falls.

  “Can I take it to him personally, please? I want to see his face as he opens a video of me fucking a Greek god that he’ll never compare to.” I push my face up at him, asking for a kiss. As always, he can’t resist my desire, but I can tell he dislikes the idea of me meeting Sullivan.

  “It’s dangerous for you to meet him without me present,” he says after he peels his lips off of mine, keeping his arms around me as people walk in and out of my house, picking up boxes. “I understand why you need it, but at least wait until I’m back.”

  “You’ll be back soon?”

  With the look of a pup happy to fulfill all my wishes, he says, “We’ll send it to Sullivan together when I’m back, and we’ll watch his reaction from a distance. I’ll take you somewhere close, from where you’ll be able to watch his reactions.”

  He kisses me lovingly. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve set everything up with Nero and the guys. If anything happens, all you have to do is call him.” He points with his thumb at the huge—but I mean humongous—guy talking to the movers outside. It’s one of his brothers, Conan, the one I met early this morning. The man looks just like the name suggests. He’s a huge, muscular barbarian, doesn’t talk much, and doesn’t understand most people’s sense of humor. Best not jest with him, and people instinctively know that just by looking at his face.

  I watch Drago’s V-shaped back in his dark sweater as he walks away, his hands pushing into his jeans that hug his perfectly shaped legs and that tight, muscular ass. I lean to the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest and smiling, relishing the idea that this magnificent beast is mine, and mine alone.

  For the first time in my life I’m completely relaxed. The neighbors are watching, of course, but this time I don’t care that they see this fabulous man leaving my place. I’m proud that they do.

  Today is the day of the open doors, because I’m leaving Darkwood Falls to move in with Drago. We spent this week indoors, making love and planning everything. I let the girls know yesterday, and it came as a shock to them. I know this is happening extremely fast, but the discussion with Sullivan a week ago left me no choice. They’ll have to understand that.

  As soon as the first truck leaves my driveway I see Mrs. Barnabas rushing over, her feet in fluffy slippers, her arms folded over her house robe. I grin to myself—this is gonna be fun, dealing with Sullivan’s and the Council’s number one spy.

  “Arianna,” the older woman demands when she’s close enough, her face grave. “You can’t possibly be moving away without saying a word to any of us. We’ve known you your entire life, we’ve known your parents, it’s not very polite to leave just like that.” She looks after Conan’s Porsche that Drago is now driving out the gates, the engine purring with power. “Not to mention that you have a new man in your life, a man you never presented to the Council. I must remind you—”

  “That it’s against my father’s supposed last wish, and the town’s rules. I know.” I move aside, inviting her to come in. “If it’s not too late to make amends, may I offer you some tea while we talk about it?”

  Without waiting for her reply, I turn on my heels and lead the way, a grin plastered to my lips. The woman follows me, of course, because she’s greedy for answers. I glance at her over my shoulder as I prepare the tea, noticing her leaning back to look into the living room, hoping for more incriminating evidence.

  I suggest we sit in the living room, and she nods keenly.

  “He’s young and very, very handsome,” she says once we’ve sat down with our tea. “What if he’s after your money?”

  I relax on the couch, cradling the steaming cup of tea in my hands. “Actually, he’s got more than I do.”

  “Say what?” The woman’s eyes blast wide. “And he looks like that?” She throws her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the window. “What exactly does he do?”

  “He runs multinational businesses with his brothers.” I lean in with a wink. “He has four of them. Brothers, I mean. All rich and handsome, wouldn’t you like to meet them? Mr. Barnabas left you years ago, maybe you should start looking around.” That’s only half meant as mockery. The woman is well over fifty, but well-groomed and born in Darkwood Falls. Her DNA might well be that of a fated female, too.

  Still, her response is an outraged face.

  “But, but,” she blabbers, “this house. It’s the house of your childhood, you can’t just leave it. Besides, who are you going to sell it to? You know very well the locals of Darkwood Falls have a purchase option in the very unlikely case that one of us sells.”

  I look around, taking in the feel of the house. “I’m not going to sell yet. Who, knows, maybe I’ll want to come back one day, or maybe leave it for my future children.” Deep inside I already fantasize about kids looking like Drago, occasionally shifting into cuddly pups. “If I do, I will contact Sullivan about it, so no worries.”

  “But it’s been your home for so long,” she insists, as if it’s in her personal interest that I stay. My eyes wander from the hallway that leads to the kitchen and the back studio to the big stairs leading up to the first floor.

  “To be completely honest, this place hasn’t been home to me since mom left,” I say. “Looking around only brings back memories of governesses who reined me in whenever I dared to as much as step outside the route they set for me around the house. My best memories are of the moments I was finally alone in my room in the evenings, the door closed, the governesses off duty. That’s when I could let my shoulders slant, forget about how to cross my legs, and daydream of a prince that would come and rescue me from this ivory tower. Now the prince is here, and I won’t lose him for the world.”

  “But what about Sullivan?”

  “What about him?”

  “You were together for so long. You know, somehow all of us expected you’d come back together one day. He was bound to be over that period of his life when, to be honest, all men go astray.”

  Rage sends blood to my cheeks. “Oh, and I’m not allowed to go astray? “

  “You’re a woman, Arianna, you know how it is for us.”

  “Oh, yes I know how it is for us. If the men feel like fucking other pussies we have to wait patiently until the asshole returns to reason. But when we go crazy for a muscular stud with an iron-hard cock, we’re whores.”

  Mrs. Barnabas gasps with every one of my words, leaning away from me, her cup of tea clattering on the saucer she holds.

  As if on cue, Conan walks in. His heavy steps alone are enough to make the woman jump by the time he appears in the wide opening between the living room and the hall.

  “Drago said you wanted your dad’s vintage chest of drawers, too,” he says, but stops the moment his eyes fall on the woman.

  She gasps like she’s about to have a heart attack, holding the tea close to her chest. I can’t help but smile. For too long I’ve been living like in a prison, feeling watched and judged, afraid of these people’s opinion of me, and how a change of that opinion could destroy my life, especially my dad’s legacy. Now I couldn’t care less, and I enjoy the shock on her face.

  “Mrs. Barnabas, may I introduce you? This is one of my fiancé Drago’s brothers, Conan. Great intuition from his mother with the name, wouldn’t you say?”

  Conan gives a low laugh that comes out as a low animal rumble from his chest. Mrs. Barnabas curls up in her armchair, staring at him in fascination. He has a handsome face, like Drago, but she surely doesn’t register that yet. All she sees is a humongous guy in the same room with her, one that could crush her with one arm. It must be terrifying for someone like her, a woman raised to fear strangers even if they’re half her weight.

  “I think you’re too much for the lady, Conan,” I say with a smile. But before I can go on I hear sirens wailing outside.

  Both Conan and I head to the window only
to see countless police cars down the road, the first two already pulling into my driveway by the movers’ truck. Inspector Ronan, once a close friend of Dad’s, steps out of the car with a frown.

  “What the hell,” I whisper, and hurry after Conan to the front door.

  “Don’t worry, I got this,” he tells me, and steps in front of me to meet the Inspector.

  It’s obvious that Ronan is intimidated at the sight of Conan. He’s much taller and broader than the older man, but then another five guys step out of their cars, giving Ronan the confidence he needs.

  The Inspector asks Conan for identification, while an officer I’ve never seen before walks over to me.

  “Can we speak, madam, alone,” he requests, already heading to the door, as if he doesn’t need my invitation to enter. It annoys me.

  “I’d like to see a badge before you take another step, please.” At least that will get on his nerves, too.

  His lips tighten, but he flips out a badge. “Officer Devin Shark.” He glances behind him at Conan, who’s talking to Ronan. “I need to have a word with you about the people frequenting your house,” he says in a low voice, leaning to me as if he’s doing me a favor by not being loud. “They’re dangerous people, ma’am, and associating yourself with them might get you into trouble with the law as well.”

  That sends ice through my limbs. I reluctantly follow him inside the house.

  Prompted by the young officer Mrs. Barnabas leaves quickly, hunched under her house robe, her arms folded tightly around herself.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, ma’am,” the officer begins as he looks around, “but the man who’s been seen coming out of your house today and his brothers—the big man outside being one of them—are involved in very shady business.” He turns to me, darkness in his stare.

  “Illegal cage fighting, maybe even drugs and prostitution. Men have even died at Drago Wolf’s blows, I hope you can see the gravity in that. I would take more time to think things through in your place. A violent man is a violent man, Miss Parker. Those iron fists can turn on you anytime, not to mention that you’d be dragged into a life on the run, probably into lawsuits, too.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Speaking of people one barely knows, and trust. I don’t remember seeing you around town before, officer Shark.”

  “I’m part of a special team that’s been called in. The Wolf brothers are wanted men, and the local police can’t deal with them alone. No wonder your lover insisted on keeping your liaison secret.”

  I grin, moving slowly to show that he doesn’t intimidate me. “That’s strange. He didn’t seem afraid of anything, and as for his business, my information differs starkly from yours.”

  He squares his shoulders, tipping his imaginary hat and heading to the door. “You’re free to believe whatever you want, ma’am. But I’ll have to ask you not to leave town during the investigation.”

  “Say what?!” I spin on my heels to him.

  He turns when he’s in the opening between the living room and hall. “I’m afraid your plans of moving in with your lover will have to wait, Miss Parker.”

  He leaves, ignoring my calls behind him.

  “This is all the mayor’s hand, isn’t it? He’s proving to me I’m in his power whether I like it or not, forcing his will on me.”

  “Don’t leave town,” he says again before he gets inside his car, signaling his partner to drive away. Three other cars leave after him, but a whole bunch of them remain stationed around my house.

  “Where is Mr. Conan Wolf?” I demand angrily from an officer that positions himself at my main door.

  “He had to accompany Inspector Ronan to the station, ma’am.”

  Anger boils inside of me as I stare after officer Devin Shark’s car in the distance. This was all Sullivan. Forcing me to remain inside this prison, to do what he wants me to do.

  I stomp back into the house, slamming the heavy door behind me. It thuds hard into the lock, and I’m pretty sure the officer outside jumped at the sound and the vibration.

  I walk straight to the liquor cabinet and fill a whole tumbler with vodka that I then down in a few gulps like medicine. I feel so angry and powerless that I just have to do something, no matter how reckless.

  I turn and stare at my cell lying on the coffee table, black and shiny, like a weapon. The only weapon I have to hurt Sullivan, to drive the spear of betrayal and self-loathing through his heart. I drink until my world is spinning, and I stagger to the table. Dropping onto the couch, I pick up the phone and go straight to Sullivan’s profile.

  All I have to do is thumb the device a few times, and the video is ready to go. I hover with my thumb over the video icon—just one more touch, and it’ll land in Sullivan’s hands. I won’t have the satisfaction of seeing him watch and go red with fury, betrayal and jealousy, but I can’t wait anymore. I want to hurt the bastard, and I want it now. I want him to suffer at the same time I do.

  All it takes is a feather-light touch of my thumb, and the video leaves my phone. The moment it does, it also vanishes from my files as if it’s never been there. I just sit there on the couch for a few minutes, my heart beating hard, half expecting to hear back from him, half filling with angst. I didn’t take into consideration the way he might react, and I know damn well I should have.

  I drink more vodka to drown my anxiety until my eyelids become heavy, and I fall asleep on the couch with the tumbler in my hand. When I wake up the house is dark, and outside all is quiet but for the light rustle of the wind. I don’t know if it’s just the dark and the unusual silence, or if it’s the hangover, but there’s an unease in my chest that foretells danger.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Arianna

  The first thing that pops into my mind is the video. I pick up my phone, my fingers knocking into the coffee table. Part of me wishes Sullivan wrote back or sent a voice message, because it would give me a feeling of control. I’d know where I stand with him, what he’s feeling, and maybe what he’s going to do.

  But there’s nothing, and that sends waves of fear through me. I should have listened to Drago, I shouldn’t have given in to my impulses and sent the video without talking to him first.

  I turn my head to the door, remembering the rest of what happened today.

  “Conan?”

  He’d answer if he were anywhere around the house, he has superhuman hearing. But the house sounds empty. I drag myself to the kitchen and even the back studio to look for him. It doesn’t make sense that he’s been kept at the station for so long.

  The terrace door of the studio is open, swaying in the light breeze. The scent of rain comes from the woods, the air colder than it should be at this time of the year. I close the door quickly and switch on all the lights in my path as I head upstairs. Shouldn’t Drago have been back by now?

  I hurry to the window of my room and look outside, only to see the police cars seemingly abandoned. I dig in one of the drawers for my dad’s old binoculars and look through them, discovering that my icy hunch was right. The cars are empty.

  No, I can’t let this get to me. The emotional charge was just too much today, this must be only my nerves playing tricks on me.

  I snatch my phone and call Drago, but apparently the communications are dead.

  “Jesus Christ.” Sweat breaks out my forehead, thinking this must be the peak of the nightmare, and it can’t get any worse. But then the lights go out with a thud, followed by an electronic whine that dies down along with the power.

  Icy sweat runs down my skin. Scared, I keep retreating to the alcove until I feel the wall against my back, but at least I have some light from the street lamps outside, giving me some protection from the gaping darkness.

  I stop breathing when I hear slow steps coming up the stairs. The most logical thing would be that it’s either Drago or Conan, and I would normally call out their names, but my sixth sense forces me to stay quiet. I’m not sure I want the creature out there to hear me and discove
r where I am.

  The serpents that Drago told me about pop up in my head, and I think this is it, they must be lurking out there, on the stairs. My God, what happened to Drago and Conan?

  The creature appears in the doorframe, and I’m ready to scream, but then I recognize his face in the faint light that filters in through the windows. It’s Sullivan, his shirt open at the neck, hanging askew on his body. His cheeks sag and his eyes are unfocused, as if he’s been drinking.

  “Arianna,” he breathes, and then a low rattle comes from his throat, like the flutter of a snake’s tongue. He staggers over, tipping to the side and knocking down the tripod that Drago and I used to tape ourselves. Fuck, I should have waited for Drago, I shouldn’t have sent the video.

  Sullivan comes back to his feet and looks around my room. My eyes have adjusted a little to the darkness, too, and I can make out the contours of the objects. Maybe I can use something to knock him out?

  “This is where it happened, isn’t it?” he stutters. He’s drunk. I move slowly closer to the table, intending to palm the candelabrum and hide it behind my back, just in case.

  “This is where you let him fuck you.” He walks around, touching random objects. He stops by the bed, and he contemplates it with some kind of suffering in his face.

  “You let him do to you things I wasn’t allowed to even dream of,” he says bitterly.

  “Our relationship was different,” I manage.

  “Different?” His head tilts to the side unnaturally, making me think of a horror movie with exorcists. Just looking at him scares me, driving me to push myself against the wall.

  “You never really wanted me, Arianna.” He walks slowly to me as he speaks, driving fear into my bones. “You only dated me because I forced you to—using a lie. Your hunch was spot on, you know that? Your daddy’s last wish wasn’t for you to never date an outsider, but the other way around.”