Colby soon got used to living across from the prisoner. The screeches quieted during the day and gave rise every night. They reminded him of the cicadas he’d heard on the annual Abernathy New Forest camping trip. Very strange and unworldly at first, but soon faded into the background. The prisoner sounded like one of the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park but appeared to be a man. A large one, like Damianos. But unlike Damianos, he had a forked tongue, and one glowing red eye, which never blinked. The other eye was little more than scar tissue. And Colby sometimes wondered how it had been lost. If perhaps Damianos had taken it as punishment before chaining him up in his attic.
Colby wondered a lot of things, over the next twenty years. But never asked.
His master appeared to be in his thirties when Colby arrived, and remained that way as the years, the decades ticked by. From what Colby could tell Damianos had servants of all sorts scattered across the entire world: spies and minions and business “partners” who didn’t realize they were also minions.
But Colby was his only personal attendant—at least the only one who lived on site. And he ran the household like clockwork. He trained with cookbooks until he learned to cook the master’s favorite foods better than a Michelin chef. He early adopted things like online shopping, personal time-management systems, and smartphone to-do list apps, so as to better keep the house in perfect order. He even acquired a pilot’s license, learning to fly everything from a Piper Cub to a Learjet. For Colby accompanied the master all over the world. Standing attentively in the background of endless business meetings as Damianos negotiated deals for millions at first, then eventually billions.
Most of the meetings involved making more money, gem mining operations, and oddly enough, mountains. His master seemed to like collecting mountains from all over the world, and the few times Colby had seen him express frustration was when one of these deals didn’t go through. Why was he so obsessed with these mountains which often didn’t have much more to offer than a small town and one solitary hotel if he was lucky?
This was another question Colby thought about, but never asked.
One night, after Colby brought his master’s evening meal up to the office, instead of answering “no” to Colby’s usual, “Will there be anything else,” his master looked him up and down slowly, as if just really seeing him for the first time. “How old are you now, Colby?” he asked.
It had been so long since Colby had thought about anything pertaining to himself that he had to take a moment to calculate the answer. “Thirty-eight,” he eventually replied.
Damianos gave an aggrieved sigh. “I suppose I should let you go, then. Thank you for your service, you shall find your compensation in an account in your name at the European International Corporation Bank.”
Colby’s head snapped up to stare at his master, who had already turned his attention to his meal of an entire roasted duck, and enough scalloped potatoes and braised cabbage to feed a family of five. He had said thank you, but other than that, it was as it always was with Damianos. Once an order had been given, he appeared not to notice or care that Colby was still in the room.
But Colby’s body relaxed as it had that day twenty years ago when he’d gone to seek out his father in the garden, and suddenly it felt that his will was his own.
Except when he opened his mouth to ask his master a question, any question at all, nothing came out.
He tried again, and again after that. But failing both times, he closed his mouth, then did as he suspected his master wanted. Left without any fuss.
Just like that, Colby found himself freed. He could go wherever he wanted.
And wherever was home. He took the smallest plane from the master’s collection, flew himself back to England, and went directly to the home he had left twenty years ago.
Instead of his mother, however, a rotund woman with brown hair and warm eyes answered the door. She had no idea who he was talking about. Her parents had bought this house as a vacation home five years ago after it reverted to the government for non-payment of taxes. And the fishing village had transformed into a fashionable beachside town in the two decades Colby had been away.
Colby checked into a hotel, then visited the town’s EIC bank branch. When he presented his old school ID as prove of identity, instead of answering his questions, a man in a tailored suit came out to take the teller’s place.
He introduced himself as the manager of the bank—one it turned out Damianos Drákon either established or somehow owned—it wasn’t quite clear to Colby, and he still found himself unable to ask questions. In any case, without requiring any further identification, the bank president led him back to his office where he took out a large binder and walked Colby through his portfolio. All his wages had been invested, as it turned out, and he’d even been provided with a pension. His master had been more grateful than Colby formerly believed. For he’d taken him in as a pauper and released him as a millionaire.
Colby used the money to hire a detective to find his mother. The report came back quick and bleak. Commended to NIH nursing home due to early onset dementia, and then she died at the relatively young age of sixty-seven. His stepfather was still alive and had moved back to East London, but of course Colby didn’t care about that.
He stared at the report. Then stared at the report some more.
Then he went to his old home, knocked on the door, and when the woman with the warm eyes answered again, he offered to buy the place from her for one million dollars on the spot.
The girl had looked at him queerly. Then said, “The woman you were looking for earlier…she was your mother, wasn’t she?”
Perhaps it had been the sight of a grown man crying on her porch. Or something gentle and light in the woman’s heart. She invited him in for some tea. Her name was Fiona, and just three months after he showed up unexpectedly at her door, they were married in a ceremony in the backyard of her parent’s house in Surrey.
Her parents had not fared well in the Great Recession, so they were not in the position to question their daughter’s whirlwind romance. Colby had millions of pounds at his discretion, and no police record. So, who were they to protest the interest this mysterious stranger had taken in their plain daughter, especially after Colby paid off their severely in arrears estate taxes as a wedding gift?
Despite his millions, soon after the wedding Colby took a job as a concierge at the same hotel where he’d stayed upon coming back to his hometown fishing village. He had tried to live a life of leisure in the months leading up to his wedding and had discovered it didn’t sit well with him. He often found himself flashing back to certain moments. Flying all the way to China to learn to cook a meal, Damianos had remembered enjoying during a trip to Hong Kong in the 60s. Disposing of a body after one of Damianos's North American agents had failed to block the passage of something called the Idaho Amendment. Placing a television in the prisoner’s room to drown out the sound of his screeches. It hadn’t worked. Nothing had worked. Every night the prisoner screamed and screamed.
No…better to stay busy, he decided. He took a job and paid a man to teach him and Fiona yoga. He let his wife drag him to musicals and funny films on the days he had off, and he reveled in her body any night she would let him.
Fiona could barely comprehend his passion. “I’m just a mousy old thing. My parents had written off me ever getting married, but you act as if I’m Cleopatra.”
How could Colby explain it? He couldn’t. So, he kissed her some more and then rolled on top of her, telling her truthfully, “You are the center of my life, the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Not surprisingly, she soon fell pregnant. One girl. And then another. And finally a boy, who he insisted they name anything—“I’m quite serious, Fi, anything at all”—but Colby.
Max it was, then. After an uncle who’d always been kind to her. It seemed fitting as their relationship had started with her kindness toward him. On the seventh year after his release, he went to sleep
to the sound of his new baby boy cooing in his crib.
And woke up to the voice.
Your holiday is over. Time to come back…
It was morning. Earlier than he usually got up, but still. Without a word to his sleeping wife he climbed out of bed and wrote a note. “I must go now. It is very important that you send Max to Abernathy, the same boarding school I attended. There will be a spot waiting for him when he turns six.”
He tried to write something more…explain…but found his hand would move no further. A fool. He’d been a fool not to realize earlier.
When he arrived at the small airport where he’d landed seven years ago, he found the Tango XR in the exact same hangar. The low-wing plane’s aluminum bullet nose sparkled in the daylight, as if it had been simply waiting for him to return for the other half of his inevitable round trip.
Less than seventy-two hours after his son’s birth, he landed in the flat field behind the master’s Greek estate and headed straight to his room on the top floor.
After changing into his waistcoat and trousers, he once again found Damianos in his office. When he’d first stepped into this room as an 18-year-old boy, the man…alien…whatever he was…had seemed much older than Colby. But now he appeared much younger than his own forty plus years. And the contrasts in their appearances only deepened as the next couple of decades went by.
At least, he supposed they did. He didn’t bother with mirrors after his return. He went back to cooking meals and ironing a never-ending laundry pile of suits, tuxes, and his own uniforms. The prisoner on the top floor continued to Jurassic screech like clockwork. More bodies had to be disposed of and occasionally they received visitors. Large men, all topping two meters. Some were tan. Quite a few were oriental. At least four of the visitors had forked tongues and red eyes like the prisoner.
Colby never asked them questions beyond their preference for coffee or tea or something stronger. They all, without fail, requested something stronger.
Things continued as if the seven years away had only been a brief blip in his life’s script. Years, then even more decades ticked by.
Then one day while visiting one of his odd mountain hotel properties on the small island of Lykos, Colby found his master out on the balcony instead of in his suite when he brought up his nightly portion of Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauilliac wine. And when he slid open the balcony doors, Damianos was staring down at his smartphone with, what appeared to be an actual smile on his face. This uncharacteristic smile revealed canines so sharp, Colby had to wonder not for the first time in these several decades, if his master was a vampire.
Wonder but not ask out loud. However, Colby did glance around his master’s shoulder and saw but a simple text message. The Viking girl has returned.
“Sir, may I get you anything else?” Colby asked after setting down his glass of wine on the balcony’s small table. The wine was so deep a red, it almost appeared black in the light of the half-moon hanging above the hotel.
“That will be all, Colby,” Damianos answered with a cold nod of his head.
However, then he added, “Before you leave for the evening, please turn on some music.”
“Of course, sir. Your usual after-dinner playlist?” Colby asked, bringing out his old smartphone to queue up the usual opera playlist on the hotel’s ancient smart wall sound system.
But then Damianos said, “No, I’d like to listen to my workout playlist tonight.”
Odd, but Colby no longer reacted to anything his master said. Just like he didn’t ask questions. He made the necessary adjustments, and a few moments later, a song came blasting out of the smart wall. “Radioactive,” by Imagine Dragons.
Colby startled. Not because of the volume, but because this song had been popular during his time with Fiona. Back when he’d been free. But not truly…
Colby found himself looking over his shoulder at the man who stood on the balcony with his hands clasped behind his back.
Wondering. But as always, never asking.
For as the male singer welcomed in a radioactive new age, it looked to Colby like Damianos Drákon owned this place. Not just the island the estate stood upon. But the sea in the distance.
And everything beyond.
Whoever that Viking girl was…Colby felt sorry for her.
* * *
Oh, my gosh, thank you so very much for reading this super special preview for RAFES: HER FATED WOLF.
Will Rafes and Myrna live happily ever after? And oh my Fenrir Wolf, what does that terrible dragon have planned?
I’m incredibly excited to tell you the rest of this epic tale, so please click here to finish the story.
Also if you’re liking Rafes so far, you’ll love his brothers, NAGO and KNUD!
So much love,
Theodora Taylor
The World of HER VIKING WOLF
Her Viking Wolf (Chloe and Fenris)
Wolf and Punishment (Janelle and Mag)
Wolf and Prejudice (Nago’s parents, Alisha and Rafe)
Wolf and Soul (Tu and Grady)
Her Viking Wolves (Tiara, FJ, and Olafr)
Her Dragon Everlasting (Fensa and Xenon)
NAGO: Her Forever Wolf(The Brothers Nightwolf 1)
KNUD: Her Big Bad Wolf (The Brothers Nightwolf 2)
RAFES: Her Fated Wolf (The Brothers Nightwolf 3)
Sign up for my newsletter to get new release alerts, preview novellas like this one for free, and more: www.theodorataylor.com/newsletter
Also by Theodora Taylor
HOT PARANORMALS WITH HEART
Her Viking Wolf
Wolf and Punishment
(The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 1)
Wolf and Prejudice
(The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 2)
Wolf and Soul
(The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 3)
Her Viking Wolves
Her Dragon Everlasting
NAGO: Her Forever Wolf
KNUD: Her Big Bad Wolf
RAFES: Her Fated Wolf
Her Scottish Wolf (Howl’s Romance)
Her Scottish King (Howl’s Romance)
HOT RUSSIANS WITH HEART
Her Russian Billionaire
Her Russian Surrender
Her Russian Beast
Her Russian Brute
HOT SOUTHERN GUYS WITH HEART
His One and Only
His for Keeps
(The Very Bad Fairgoods, Book 1)
His Forbidden Bride
(The Very Bad Fairgoods, Book 2)
His to Own
(The Very Bad Fairgoods, Book 3)
HOT RUTHLESS TYCOONS WITH HEART
HOLT: Her Ruthless Billionaire
ZAHIR: Her Ruthless Sheikh
LUCA: Her Ruthless Don
HOT AUDIOBOOKS WITH HEART
The Owner of His Heart
Her Russian Billionaire
His Pretend Baby
His Everlasting Love
Her Viking Wolf
HOT CONTEMPORARIES WITH HEART
The Owner of His Heart
The Wild One
Her Perfect Gift
His for the Summer
His Pretend Baby
His Revenge Baby
HOT HARLEQUINS WITH HEART
Vegas Baby
Love’s Gamble
HOT SUPERNATURAL WITH HEART
His Everlasting Love
About the Author
Theodora Taylor writes hot books with heart. When not reading, writing, or reviewing, she enjoys spending time with her amazing family, going on date nights with her wonderful husband, and attending parties thrown by others. She now lives in Los Angles, California, and she LOVES to hear from readers. So….
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, Theodora, RAFES - Her President Wolf: A Brother’s Nightwolf Preview Novella
RAFES - Her President Wolf: A Brother’s Nightwolf Preview Novella Page 9