Stealing the Heiress

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Stealing the Heiress Page 4

by Saranna Dewylde


  Something had changed between them and the only thing it could be was this new shadow inside of him.

  Of course it would want her. She was soft, and sweet, and—

  It’s more than that.

  She is us.

  Warner had a brief vision of gouging that voice out of his head with his own claws.

  “No, she’s not,” he said aloud.

  Laughter echoed in his ears.

  You’ll see.

  “No, I won’t. And neither will you.” Determination flooded him and he wasn’t going to let himself anywhere near sweet Mari every again.

  Doesn’t matter. She’ll come to us. She must.

  And you want her to.

  His hand had closed around his cock and while it felt so good, he didn’t want the thoughts in his head.

  They were all about Mari.

  About licking her. Tasting her. Touching her.

  About tearing her tender throat with his dark bite.

  About how she fucking loved it.

  His stroke moved faster, harder and his hips thrust in time. He should stop, he wanted to stop. He didn’t want to come thinking about hurting her.

  And the visions changed.

  She was the one infected with the darkness. She was the one running him down in the woods to tear at his flesh.

  Goddess Above, when he imagined her marking him with the same hell-teeth like his own, that’s what took him over the edge, and he spilled his seed in his hand.

  The grass died where it touched, and if Warner had harbored any hope that he’d ever touch her, they died in that moment.

  The natural world was so offended by his existence, the vehicle with which he could reproduce was poison.

  This was all he could have of her.

  He knew he could never see her again.

  But he didn’t think it would be a problem after Minnesota.

  He dragged himself to his feet and began to make his way back to Aphelion.

  Normally, he’d just Change and run. In his wolf form, he could cover the distance in a short time, but he didn’t want to Change. He didn’t want that devil face anywhere near his pack.

  And he wondered briefly if he was in that form if Aphelion’s ward would rip him apart. They were magically keyed to destroy anyone who passed the boundaries with ill intent toward any of the residents.

  He’d say that his hunger for Mari was definitely ill-intended.

  His cock had begun to throb again and now his teeth along with it. They both ached to be inside her.

  But he wasn’t going to allow that to happen, was he?

  The darkness inside him was quiet now, but he wasn’t under any illusions that anyone was safe. It was simply biding its time like a master predator would.

  It took him an hour to run back to Aphelion using only his human form.

  And it felt surprisingly good. He liked feeling the way his body worked, the press of his feet against the ground, the way his lungs expanded and contracted with effort. He even liked the discomfort that verged on pain. He ran harder, wanted to feel more of it. Because that meant he was still Warner.

  There was a kind of numbness in a darkness, a toxin to make him more amenable to all the awful things it wanted him to do.

  When he stepped inside Aphelion, it struck him that it would be for the last time.

  This was his home.

  Where he’d helped raise a family, and a pack.

  This was where his heart lived and where it would stay long after his flesh was gone.

  He leaned against the stone column and pressed his forehead to the cool surface for a long moment before heading to the armory.

  Unfortunately, when he got to the armory, it was already occupied by one Miss Lenore Breslin.

  She was sitting with her legs crossed, swinging her leg impatiently while sipping a coffee.

  Various bits of hiking gear and supernatural self-defense detritus lay spread out on the prep tables, along with two backpacks and camping gear.

  “Took you long enough. I thought you’d have tried to sneak out hours ago.”

  “You’re not coming with me.”

  “The hell you say.” There was no rancor in her tone. It was as if she were telling him about the forecast, which smelled like rain.

  “Lenore—”

  “Warner?”

  “I know you’re a big girl. I know you can take care of yourself. But this is different.” He didn’t want to see anything happen to the hunter.

  Like he’d thought earlier, yeah, somehow she’d become part of their pack and he wanted to protect her.

  “I’m not going to say it’s not different. I know that it is. But you don’t need to do this alone.”

  “I ate him, Lennie. You want to come with me knowing that? Or will that make it easier to take my head when the time comes? Is that why you want to come?”

  “Don’t be a dumbass, Warner. I’m not taking your head.”

  “Then I don’t need you.”

  “Yes, you do.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, I get it. You’re noble and shit. You’re the champion. But in the all the stories we’ve ever heard either in our own lore, or human lore never has there been The One who didn’t have a team. Who didn’t help them reach the final battle they were meant to fight. So you’re The One. And I’m the team, ‘kay? Good.”

  He put his hand out on her arm and she arched a brow at him.

  “Listen to me. You know what else happens? Those team members die. They sacrifice their lives and I couldn’t take it if something happened to you. Noah couldn’t take it either.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No one said it would be.”

  “Okay. You got me there, Gray Tail.”

  “You’re pack, Lenore. I know that you’re a hunter. I know that you’re always in danger, but I can keep you from this danger. It’s my responsibility, and my honor.”

  Lenore sniffed and blinked. “I love you, too, you grumpy old bastard. Which is why I’m still coming. Pack means no one left behind. And if you want to protect me, I guess that means you just have to stay alive to do it.”

  He closed his eyes

  “Goddess damn it, Lenore.”

  “I’ll make you a promise. If you’re not the wolf I think you are, the wolf Westwood thinks you are, then I’ll do it, okay? If you become a threat, I’ll take your head.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to let you.”

  “None of the wolves let me, War.” She hugged him tight. “But it’s not going to come to that. I know it.”

  He let himself rest in her embrace for just a moment. He wasn’t only hugging Lenore. He was hugging Noah. Drew. Blake. Parker. Emmie. Randi.

  Mari.

  A low growl started in the back of his throat as he thought of her, but Lenore didn’t pull away. Didn’t tense up. She simply kept hugging him.

  He wanted to live up to the picture she—all of them—had painted of him. He wanted to be what they thought he was.

  Wanted to be the wolf he’d always believed himself to be.

  Which was why he had to get away from them. All of them.

  Even Lenore.

  But he knew he wasn’t getting out of Aphelion without her.

  He pulled back from her. “Fine. But it’s not because you hugged me,” he grumbled.

  “No, it’s because I’ll tranq your ass if I have to and you know it.” She grinned.

  “That I do, Lenore.”

  “Glad that’s settled. Do you want the Sig or are you just going to use your teeth?” She held up the modified Sig Sauer P226.

  “Might as well take a few of those, but I don’t know that the silver nitrate bullets are going to do any good.”

  “Well, I had an idea. I got some empty rounds from David and we’re going to fill them with your blood. If your saliva is toxic to them, your blood will be too.”

  “You’re not worried I might make more like me?”

  “Nah. Westwood said whatever is happ
ening to you is to force balance. And hey, after the world is back as it should be, maybe you will be too.”

  Warner knew that was as likely as shit sticking to the moon and tasting like one of Gin’s cupcakes.

  But eliminating the threats to his pack and his family were all that mattered.

  5

  Warner was gone.

  Mari knew it in her bones before she saw his motorcycle was missing from the row in the garage.

  And she knew where he’d gone.

  He’d gone to find the rogue pack and take them down.

  With the hunter Lenore. Her motorcycle was gone, too.

  A stab of ugly jealousy knifed through her that she was good enough to take with him, but not her. Lenore was a hunter, but she was human. It was her he’d chosen and not his own mate.

  Mari swallowed hard, because it was indeed a bitter pill. If she could pick anyone to take into battle, she wouldn’t choose herself either.

  There had to be something she could do.

  There had to be some way she could be of use.

  Lifting her chin, she found her way to Westwood’s labs.

  A strange green smoke billowed out from under the door and she heard what sounded like the honest to goddess, legit wicked witch cackle.

  She wondered if maybe this wasn’t the best time to bother the witch. Who knew what was going on in that lab of hers. She could be doing important work. Like gathering eye of newt and toe of frog from some Prince Smarming gone awry.

  “By the pricking of my thumbs, something heartbroken this way comes,” the witch said when she opened the door.

  “I’m not heartbroken.”

  “Didn’t say it was you, my sweet little darkling.” She held the door open wide. “Come in, come in. Cookie?”

  A gingerbread man danced his way up to her and shook his little sugar booty at her.

  She snatched it out of the air and crunched him, washing it down with the lovely steaming cup of tea that floated toward her after she was done with him.

  “Another?” Eleanor asked.

  “No. Yes. No.” Mari sighed.

  “Yes, another. I think it will be just the thing.”

  This time the gingerbread man booped her nose with his butt and she chomped. Surprisingly, Mari felt marginally better.

  “Better, then?”

  She nodded.

  “I assume it’s Warner troubles that bring you to my door?”

  “That obvious, is it? Am I that pathetic?”

  “No, of course not. I just know Warner. I’m guessing he’s fucked off to Minnesota on his own with some noble, but misguided, idea about saving us from his darkness or whatever.”

  “Yes, but he’s taken Lenore.”

  To Mari’s extreme irritation, the witch cackled again.

  “I don’t see how this is funny.”

  “He didn’t take Lenore. Lenore took him.” The witch shook her head. “You know that there’s nothing but pack between them, right?”

  “I know. But she was good enough. I wasn’t.”

  “Oh, honey.” Eleanor pulled her into a grandmotherly embrace. “It’s not that you’re not good enough. He wants you and so does the dark champion inside of him. It doesn’t want Lenore. He doesn’t doubt you. He doubts himself.”

  “I must be crazy to not be afraid of him—it.”

  “Have you seen it, then?”

  Mari nodded.

  “That bodes very well. I think there’s part of you that knows something that the rest of us don’t.”

  “Part of me that knows something you don’t? That would be a miracle, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not at all, Miss Mari. There’s a strength inside of you that’s wholly your own, but you’ve been cut off from it.”

  “You mean my wolf?”

  “Hmm.” Westwood studied her, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I see now. I suspected as much.”

  Mari suddenly felt like an odd little bug pinned with her wings spread under a microscope.

  “What?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “I… for the love of the Goddess, what?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Okay, you’re freaking me out.” Mari squirmed under the witch’s scrutiny.

  “Yes, that would be normal in this situation.”

  What. The. Actual. Hell.

  “So, you’re telling me I’m really an alien or something, right? Something awful is going to tear out of my stomach and tapdance stage left?” Mari was only half kidding.

  “Kiddo, all I can tell you is that you need to trust yourself. Listen to your wolf. Let her speak to you.”

  “That’s just the problem. I’ve never been able to hear her.”

  Mrs. Westwood put out a hand and let it rest on her shoulder. “Have you ever wondered if there was a reason for that?”

  “Besides the part that I’m a freak who isn’t wolf enough for the supe world and not human enough for the rest of the world? No. What possible reason could there be? My genes are just too diluted, I guess.”

  “Oh, child. It’s nothing like what you think. This generation of Woolven Wives have all been just like you. Randi was human, but when she was Turned, she became more than just a werewolf. You know the story.”

  Yes, everyone knew how Randi had taken out a pack of Berskers on her own.

  “And Belle,” Westwood said.

  “She was already a vampire before she met Parker.”

  “She was, but she’s basically a living goddess.”

  Mari couldn’t argue with that.

  “And Emmie… she’s become a whole new kind of wolf that’s half demon, but all badass.”

  She didn’t quite get what Westwood was getting at. Her logical brain connected the dots, that Westwood was saying she was more than the little wanna be wolf who failed at everything but shopping.

  But Mari couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

  “And then there’s me. Who couldn’t transform unless she had a bowl of champagne to lap at.”

  “Yes, Mari. There’s you. The draw you feel toward Warner is not one-sided. Nor is it a mistake.”

  “He thinks it is.”

  “Warner Woolven is a good wolf, but when it comes to matters of the heart, he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Trust in the balance. Trust in the natural law. And most importantly trust in yourself.”

  “That would be stupid.”

  “Oh really? Why is that?” Westwood arched a perfectly groomed brow.

  Mari just realized she’d told the terrifying witch that her advice was stupid. Yeah, maybe not the best choice she’d ever made.

  “Uh…”

  Westwood laughed. “No, I genuinely want to know why you’d say that.”

  “If I could trust my own instincts, I’d go after Warner. But what can I do?”

  “I don’t know what you can do. Only you know what you can do.”

  “I can’t do anything. Warner is becoming something else. Something more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen. What do I have to offer him that will help him? Nothing. Just me.”

  Westwood handed her another cookie. “Why haven’t you ever considered that just you is enough? Just little Mari is all he needs.”

  “Because that’s laughable.”

  “Blake needed Randi before she became what she is now. Drew needed Emmie when he thought he could never give her his mark. Parker and Belle needed each other when they thought it was impossible for them to actually be together.”

  She supposed all of those things were true, but it didn’t mean that the same formula was meant to work for her.

  But why couldn’t it?

  This question wasn’t something she’d dared ask or hope for in the past. Yet, it remained, loud and determined in the back of her head.

  What could she lose by trying?

  Her life? Yet, even as she answered herself, it was so far out of the realm of what she believed. She knew with a certainty that Warner wouldn’t hurt her.

  Coul
dn’t.

  Not because of who he was, but because of who she was.

  But that was stupid because she was no one. She was just an heiress with mineral rights the Woolven Pack wanted to acquire.

  She wasn’t fierce like Randi, strong like Emmie, or damn near invincible like Belle.

  But looking in the witch’s ageless eyes, she saw a reflection of herself that she wanted so desperately to be true.

  The witch saw her as capable, strong, and an asset to the Woolven Pack and her beloved Warner.

  All of the other Woolven Brides wouldn’t think twice about joining their mates if they thought they were needed. Even before they became icons of badassery.

  Lenore was out there with him, and even though she was a trained hunter, she was still human.

  Not that Mari thought less of humans, but Mari realized she’d completely discounted herself and she’d been doing it for years.

  “I guess I’m going to Minnesota.”

  Westwood nodded. “Yes, you are. You should call your father before you go. I have a feeling there’s something he’ll want to tell you.”

  Mari knew her father loved her, but his love language was actions, not words. Sending her to Woolven when he knew they’d be on opposite sides of the conflict had been an act of love. He knew that no matter what, Woolven protected its own. And he knew Woolven would win, but because of old promises and ancient alliances, he’d been forced to side with Remus.

  So she really did know.

  But her love language was spoken, and maybe he’d speak her language, just once.

  “Well, go on. Get packed. Call Daddy. And haul ass. Time and Destiny wait for no man. Or woman.” Westwood shooed her toward the door. “The keys are in the Vette.”

  Mari let the witch guide her toward the door and out of her lab.

  “How will I find him?”

  “Your bones will tell you.”

  When the door closed behind her, she supposed if Westwood could have so much faith in her that maybe she could summon a little faith in herself.

  The witch knew things, after all.

  She pulled out her phone as she walked toward the garage and dialed the number.

  “Alpha DeVaughn isn’t taking calls,” a rough voice answered. It was Rodrigo, he father’s Beta.

  “Put him on, Rod.”

 

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