Big Bad Billionaire (The Woolven Secret Book 1)

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Big Bad Billionaire (The Woolven Secret Book 1) Page 8

by Saranna Dewylde


  Or at least she didn’t think he could.

  “Like you said, I’m okay. Don’t go to war because of me.”

  “I’ll go to war to protect what’s mine. And no mistake, Woolven, Aphelion and you… are mine.”

  He closed the door behind him, and the lock clicked into place.

  She scrambled to snatch up the gun then hopped back up on the bed, her thumb in the ID sensor. It was armed and at the ready, pointed at the door, while she huddled against the headboard. Every sound drew her attention and made her wonder if the great horrible beast had broken free and was coming to tear her apart.

  Chapter Nine

  One of the hardest things Blake Woolven ever did was to retake his human shape, carry his mate back to her room and then leave her there.

  Everything in him wanted to rip the interloper to shreds.

  His wolf argued—quite logically—that if she saw the bastard’s death, she’d know he was dead and couldn’t hurt her. She’d know Blake was strong. She’d know he could and would protect her.

  But what she needed in that moment was the actual protecting.

  She needed to feel safe, needed the grounding that his touch provided.

  If he could’ve, he’d have stayed with her, made love to her until she was mindless with bliss and then Turned her. He’d have given her the tools to defend herself. Perhaps then, their whole world would make sense to her.

  But the rogue wolf needed to be dealt with, and she wasn’t ready to be Turned.

  If he could learn who killed David Rutger in the process, it would help her more than touching her, more than kissing her, more than mating with her.

  It would lessen some of the hate in her heart and give her Turn a higher chance of being successful.

  Blake could feel her fear. It rattled his bones like bullets. He’d give anything to keep her from feeling that way.

  That bastard wolf would die. It was only a question of when and how much pain it would endure before it gave up the answers Blake sought.

  He descended into the bowels of Aphelion where Mrs. Westwood kept her quarters near the dungeon. She was particularly good with healing spells.

  Working together, they could cause someone an infinite, eternal amounts of pain.

  She no longer wore her grandmotherly façade. Instead, she displayed the face of a crone, terrible and fierce. It was just what he needed to see.

  The wolf was still in his warrior form, but they’d chained him to the wall with manacles around his throat, wrists, and ankles. Silver spikes had been installed in the floor and walls, and were currently under Drew’s control.

  Parker didn’t generally have the stomach for this kind of thing, but he stood at the ready, prepared to do what he must.

  For all of his games and tricks, Parker was loyal to his family and to the pack.

  Warner was still in his warrior form as well and had positioned himself between the other wolf and his nephews.

  A rush of gratitude overwhelmed him. If Warner hadn’t been there… Blake didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened to Randi.

  Yet, he had to.

  He had to think about what this waste of meat had almost done to his mate. There was a reason they called Blake Woolven Big Bad, but it wasn’t because of his prowess with the females.

  “Force his Change,” he commanded.

  The witch began chanting and the warrior wolf’s bones began to crunch and snap. His flesh shifted as her magic forced him back into his human form. The wolf fought it, but he was no match for Eleanor Westwood and the fury of a centuries old witch.

  The Woolven pack was her pack—she’d raised these boys, cared for them. She was not their mother, but had mothered them nonetheless.

  As his howls turned to screams, the young man was pulled flush against the wall, spread-eagle and in his human form—a skin he’d soon be deprived of.

  From his scent, he was the same wolf Blake tracked on the grounds before.

  His name was Hector Luna, one of Vittorio’s bastards. Born outside the pack, but always hoping to do something to garner his sire’s attention and prove his worth. He’d never be able to succeed Vittorio.

  All of it was wasted effort.

  If he were caught, his actions could be disavowed.

  In the eyes of the Great Council, there’d be no reason for Woolven to go to war. A rogue act of a rogue bastard wolf…

  “Do you know who I am?” Blake asked in a voice that sounded much calmer than he felt.

  The wolf narrowed his eyes and snapped, his muzzle elongated for a moment before it returned to human form. “Yes.”

  “Then you know I’ll kill you slow and ugly if you don’t give me what I want.”

  The wolf spat at him. “You’ll kill me anyway.”

  Blake nodded. “That is the truth. But it’s your choice if you die today, or a year from now, or maybe ten years from now.” If that’s what it took, he could drag it out that long. With pleasure.

  “My father will come for me.”

  “Then he will die,” Warner snarled in a barely human voice before Blake could respond. “Did he tell you where he got that scar on the dip of his spine?” The wolf snapped at the lesser’s neck. “Did he?”

  Hector’s lip curled in disgust.

  “I gave it to him,” Warner said. “I made him submit to me in front of his pack. In front of his female.” He crept closer to the wolf. “It was because of me you were ever whelped, boy. That night he sought comfort with the mangy bitch who dropped you.”

  Warner knew just what to say to twist the knife. He was a skilled manipulator when he wanted to be. War was skilled in everything and could’ve taken the de la Luna pack for his own. He could’ve been the Woolven Alpha, but was instead content to care for his family. Family above pack for Warner Woolven.

  Blake was torn between gratitude and love for his uncle and the sheer burning fury that drove him to tear Hector apart.

  Hector struggled to get to Warner.

  “Fight it, put on your show little Luna. Because if the witch lets you go, I’ll eat your kidneys like conversation hearts,” War snarled and bit down hard on his victim’s shoulder, tearing the skin and fascia.

  Hector, to his credit, made no sound.

  But Blake hadn’t expected him to break easy.

  He knew this would be hard and bloody. His wolf relished the thought, but his humanity didn’t. His humanity didn’t want to acknowledge that he was not only capable of terrible things, he also enjoyed them.

  Mostly because he knew how it would look to Randi. Since he’d touched her, kissed her, acknowledged her as his mate, he considered her in all of his decisions. She was an essential part of him now.

  And goddamn if the knowledge wasn’t inconvenient as all hell.

  “Tell me who killed David Rutger,” Blake demanded.

  “Didn’t you see the news? He killed himself,” Hector hissed.

  “Stop hissing like a were-pussy and answer the damn question.” Parker drew his hand over a tray of sharp instruments rather well-suited to the Inquisition.

  “I did, Baby Woolven.”

  Parker did not hesitate. He lifted one of the slim blades and plunged it into Hector’s knee. The flesh around the injury smoked and sizzled, and the wolf yelped.

  “He was here, on the property. He was here after you went on your walk in the maze with Randi. That’s what she called me, Baby Woolven. Rip his arms off,” Parker snarled.

  “You going to let your brother have all the fun? Take me out, Blake. Or don’t you have the teeth?” He managed a full change before the witch forced him back to his human visage. “I attacked your mate. I smelled you on her. I would’ve Turned her, made her mine. Then I would’ve rutted on her like the bitch she is.”

  Blake knew the other wolf tried to incite a black rage in him, a wrath that would make him kill. He had to keep thoughts of Randi just close enough to remain strong for her, but not so close to the surface that his wolf took control.<
br />
  He dug deep and found a genuine smile, one more than just a baring of teeth. “Randi would rip your throat out.”

  She might be afraid now, but he knew, once she found her footing, she’d be strong. Worthy. An Alpha female of the Woolven pack.

  “She wasn’t in any kind of fighting shape earlier. She might quake to death first. She stank of humanity and fear,” Hector replied.

  “And so will you,” Warner interrupted and bit him again, making a mess of his already mangled arm.

  “Tell me. Who killed David Rutger?” Blake asked again.

  Awareness prickled up his spine. He felt her before he saw her, sensed her before he smelled her.

  Randi.

  He looked to Warner, waiting for him to tell her to leave, but he didn’t. He didn’t even shift back from his warrior form, but stood proud and wolfen before her.

  She stank of fear, but of other things too.

  “Don’t let your mate get too close,” the rogue dared.

  Only his scent changed when Randi got close. The fear they’d been trying elicit from him was like a perfume at her approach.

  He could suddenly see why.

  Even though her hands shook, she held the silver plasma gun and she aimed it like she knew how to use it.

  Even Eleanor Westwood stopped chanting.

  “That hasn’t been tested, Randi.” Parker was the voice of reason.

  Blake found he’d never been as aroused as he was at that moment. His mate, brandishing the plasma weapon like some petticoat gunslinger from the old west. It was a good look on her. His fangs elongated in his mouth and his cock was hard and thick against his slacks.

  He wanted to throw her down and—“Randi. You shouldn’t be here,” he said instead.

  She lifted her chin, eyes flashing. Goddess, but she was magnificent wreathed in her fury.

  “Where should I be? Cowering in my room? No.” She stepped closer to their enemy.

  Hector snapped his teeth at her. Warner bit him again in retaliation, this time tearing his arm off. Hector howled in pain, but his eyes never left Randi.

  Blake considered the merits of blinding the other wolf just for the trespass.

  “Warner, if you want to keep your snout, I suggest you move.” She leveled the weapon and lined up the sites.

  It was then that Hector’s fear spiked.

  “How do you know about the gun, Hector?” Blake asked. His fear wouldn’t have spiked that way unless he knew exactly what the weapon could do.

  Hector grit his teeth and closed his eyes.

  “I know you haven’t been inside the lab. Did you kill David Rutger?”

  Hector opened his eyes and met Blake’s stare head on, but he couldn’t hold it for long. Blake’s power flared, and he used it to force Hector into submission. If Warner turned on his wolfen charisma, Hector couldn’t withstand that as well.

  “I won’t betray a blood oath,” he snarled.

  Unless it was a blood oath. Vittorio de la Luna was shrewd bastard.

  “I won’t ask again. Who killed David Rutger?” Blake demanded.

  His face changed into his warrior form, terrible and dark, teeth like knives and maw dripping with blood. “You did.”

  Randi didn’t ask further questions. Instead, she fired.

  The ray from the plasma gun incinerated the wolf. One moment he was there, the next, he’d been devoured by silver nanoparticles.

  There was no dust, no bone, and no ash. Nothing evidenced Hector Luna had ever existed. Not even the arm Warner had ripped from his body.

  Nothing aside from the blood on the floor that Warner had shed.

  Parker looked back and forth from Randi to the gun, from the gun to Randi. “On that note, I have to see a man about a bear. In Vegas. If we’re going to war, I better wolf up and do my part.”

  Warner took his human shape again. “She’s not a bear. She’s a DeVaughn. I hear they’re rather attractive beasties.”

  “Whatever.” Parker rolled his eyes. “Taking the jet, big brother.” And on the way out the door, he corrected, “Or is that Big Bad?”

  “Fuck you, Parker,” Blake grumbled, watching the play of emotions on Randi’s face.

  At that moment, it was all about her for him. About how she felt, how she processed everything that had happened, and what she needed from him.

  He could conceive of nothing worse than not meeting her needs, not keeping her safe. Of her wearing that look on her face every time she saw him.

  She was terrified.

  Randi had powered through her fear, proving she was a fighter. He couldn’t quash his pride in her, but he hated that she was afraid. Hated how she didn’t see him for all that he was—that she only saw a monster.

  Blake knew he was beastly, knew he was violent and knew he enjoyed it. But it was only when it was required of him. Only when in service to his pack.

  His mate.

  Her.

  Goddess, Luna almost ripped out her throat.

  What would he have done if the fucker had Turned her? Made her dark? Made her hate? Made her rotten with all the same black bile that infected him?

  He knew the answer without asking the question. He’d surrender his place as Alpha, and he’d go dark with her. He’d surrender to the darkness inside him, to the violence, and the death. The things he used to protect his pack he’d use to please his mate. They’d spend their days marking a bloody swath wherever they went until the Great Council was forced to hunt them and put them down like the rabid beasts they’d become.

  He could see that future. It could happen.

  He hoped to hell it didn’t, but he’d not be separated from Randi for any reason. She was his everything.

  Warner edged out of the room quietly, quickly, and Eleanor did the same, leaving them alone.

  Yet, still, the stench of her fear turned his stomach.

  Still, she held the weapon aloft as if she meant to use it.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she whispered.

  “I won’t hurt you, Randi.”

  “The way you didn’t hurt Hector?”

  “You’re the one who ended his life. You wiped him out of existence. That wasn’t me.” He took a step closer to her.

  “Stop it. Stay where you are.”

  “I can’t.” He shook his head and continued to advance on her.

  “I will shoot you. I will.” She nodded, as if trying to convince herself.

  “That’s your choice, but I can’t have you smelling of fear. My wolf won’t permit it.” He took another small step.

  “You are making me afraid, Blake. Stay. Where. You. Are.” She dropped the gun, but lifted it again.

  “Don’t be afraid of—” His words broke off in a growl. His wolf didn’t understand why she was afraid. His wolf wanted to console her, wrap itself around her and hide her from whatever made her afraid.

  It didn’t understand that it was him who frightened her.

  She was terrified of him.

  He leaned forward and rested his head against the muzzle of the gun. “Do what you have to. I will never hurt you, Randi. Never.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You think I won’t pull this trigger? I will, goddamn it.” She hated the tears choking her, the heavy weight on her chest and, most of all, she hated the terror in her heart when he leaned forward and pressed his head against the barrel.

  She was terrified of herself.

  That she really would pull the trigger.

  Because then all that made Blake Woolven would be gone. The thought was worse than knowing he was a werewolf. Worse than thinking he would hurt her. It turned in on itself, a sickly snake eating its own tail.

  “I believe you will.”

  His voice was still so low, guttural. She could tell the beast under his skin clawed at the surface, struggled to get to her.

  “Then what the hell are you doing?” The high-pitched tinny quality of her voice made her sound weak and ineffectual. Worse, made her feel weak and i
neffectual.

  “Submitting to you.” His hands closed over hers. He held her strong and steady.

  “You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

  “I’m giving you what you need to feel safe. I will always give you what you need, if you let me.”

  She knew it must be a trick, designed to manipulate her. He’d make her feel like she held some kind of power then he’d crush her. Devour her.

  The gentle way he’d held her when he carried her from the scene and to her room brushed at the edges of her memory. If he’d wanted to be rid of her, if he wanted to hurt her, he could’ve done it a hundred times over already.

  “What if what I need is to bring Woolven down?” It was, after all, why she’d come to Aphelion.

  “Then you’ll have to kill me, Randi. I can’t let you hurt my pack.”

  “How would you stop me?” Part of her wanted him to threaten her, wanted him to prove he was the monster under the bed.

  I’m the king of monsters.

  Yet, here he stood—a monster in fact, but not in deed.

  “What am I supposed to say here? That I’d rip your throat out?” His amber eyes met hers, and they glowed. “No. I couldn’t do that.”

  “Stop it.” She kept thinking about him chasing her in the maze. How afraid she’d been, and then how hot. What it felt like to have his tongue lapping at her wet heat, his growls of pleasure, and what it was like to be the object of his singular intent.

  “Stop what?” He seemed genuinely confused.

  “Looking at me with your… wolf eyes.” Her heart thundered like stampeding horses, but with more than fear. It raced with adrenaline tinged desire.

  His perfectly sculpted brow arched. “My wolf likes looking at you. You’re my mate.”

  “I don’t want to be.” She didn’t.

  Did she? To have a man—a creature—like Blake Woolven as her own… she almost couldn’t fathom it.

  “Me either.” He grinned.

  She kicked him, but didn’t lower the gun. “Asshole.”

  “I call it like I see it.” He drew the gun down toward his heart. She fought him at first, but then he said, “I just want to look at you, instead of down that barrel. I’ll be just as dead if you pull the trigger. Won’t you let me look at you?”

 

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