Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,30

introduced her to the mayor of San Francisco or the woman who coordinated the event, Emelia radiated kindness, jumping into effortless conversation with everyone who crossed her path.

Even though Drake had heightened security inside city hall, he couldn’t shake the nerves rattling his bones. Emelia wasn’t out of harm’s way yet. Whoever sent the goon to attack her would be back. Luckily, his packmates were in top form, on high alert, searching for anything out of order. Emelia had Drake’s full, undivided attention.

After swiping two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server, Drake escorted Emelia around the room and up the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the bustling hall below. He’d ordered three of his best men to follow Emelia everywhere she went. Even now, they kept pace behind them, far enough away that they couldn’t overhear conversation, but close enough to jump into action if something happened.

As the murmur of the guests washed over them, Emelia leaned against the nearest balcony and peered over the side. “You never told me what the gala is celebrating.”

“You never asked.” Drake tipped back his glass, not sure how much he wanted to tell Emelia. Although he longed to tell her everything, there was a very fine line between revealing just enough and too much. One small word could tip the balance. Too much, she’d get scared and bolt. Drake couldn’t protect her that way. That was the last thing he wanted.

“This is me asking,” she said.

Drake stepped beside her, scanning the crowd for someone out of place. “Serephina Vanguard was a visionary, donating most of her money to the city’s performing art programs, museums, and parks, when people didn’t have money to support such ventures. She even helped build the city’s first opera house. She understood that there was more to a city than the people who governed it, a kind of inspirational river that flowed through it, influencing the people who lived there. She believed that the heart of a prosperous society comes from individuals who are creative thinkers, people who challenge established beliefs. She was a revolutionary, hated by some who thought her money should go toward more practical things…like government and election campaigns.”

“So, aside from donating to creative programs in San Francisco, she bucked the system? Sounds like my kind of lady.” Emelia nodded as if she understood, but had no idea. “Will she be here?”

Drake took another hearty drink, trying to drown the memory. “No, she passed away years ago.”

Drake ached to tell her the truth about Serephina Vanguard. He didn’t know why—he’d never wanted to reveal the truth to any of the other women who’d come in and out of his life in the last three hundred years. Emelia was different. She didn’t act like everyone else, respecting him because of his authority in the pack or his position in the company. She treated everyone equally whether they worked the mail room or owned the company. She reminded him of Serephina in that way. It was clear Drake had to earn her respect; he planned on doing just that.

“Wilder Financial donates millions of dollars every year to keep the Vanguard Foundation going strong,” he said. “It’s one of the things I’m most proud of. This gala is to thank the people who keep Serephina’s memory alive.”

Emelia looked at him. Really looked at him. As if she could see the man behind the black-and-white penguin suit, the man who wanted Wilder Financial to be more than a multimillion-dollar corporation. His senses picked up the soft hint of fondness—it bloomed off Emelia in waves, peaceful and hesitant, like a flower opening its petals after a long winter.

“Funny how women who are scoffed at for forward thinking are revered after they’re gone,” she said.

Drake nodded, needing to say more, aching to connect the bridge spanning between them. Things he shouldn’t say lingered on his tongue and burned a hole in his throat. How could he tell her that he was a werewolf? That he’d be the luckiest werewolf alive if she ruled the pack with him? Might as well sign him up for Maury. He’d fit right in on the “My Boyfriend Is a Freak” show.

As the gala’s host tapped the microphone, announcing that everyone should take their seats, Drake leaped, saying the words he had never spoken to another.

“Serephina was my mother. Vanguard was her maiden name.”

“Really?” Emelia’s smoky eyes widened in surprise. She touched his arm gently, and smiled. “And here I thought you