Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,4
corner and welcomed Drake with a stiff handshake.
“Good morning, boss,” he said, handing him a note with missed calls on it, listed in order of importance. “I have to say, you threw quite the party last night.”
“Thank you, Raul. They say parties can be judged by the mess they leave in the morning. From the looks of my living room, I’d say it was a riot.” Drake skimmed the list and shoved it into his front pocket. He had more important matters to attend to at the moment. “Is Emelia Hudson here yet?”
“No sir, I’m afraid she’s running late.” Raul pressed down the front of a Brioni coat as straight and black as his hair. Even though his eyes were a muted shade of charcoal, they held an intensity that could strike fear in the heart of any one of their packmates. “But I’ve briefed Ms. Fox on the new state of affairs. She’ll run your business aspects, as usual, and Ms. Hudson will be your personal secretary until you feel she is ready to handle other matters of business.”
Drake checked his watch as he marched around the corner and down the long hall leading to his office. “I asked you to have her transferred here first thing this morning. It’s nearly noon.”
Raul Bloomfield had been Drake’s Beta wolf for two hundred years. He’d never taken this long to obey an order. Figures he’d stall on the most important order Drake had ever given him: transfer Emelia Hudson to his private office staff ASAP.
“I contacted the temp agency as you requested,” Raul said, following on Drake’s heels. “I retrieved all of Ms. Hudson’s information from the county, and I’m searching the pack’s database for more comprehensive records. I had an extra desk moved outside your door, as requested, and she should be here any minute. I’m told she’s running late due to a nasty hangover, sir.”
Raul’s thoughts raced through Drake’s head as if they were his own. The ancient pack-speaking process was common to him—as ordinary as drinking his coffee black and his scotch Blue—but this time, Raul’s silent words turned Drake’s feet to stone.
Why do I get the feeling she experienced more than a hangover, sir? Luminaries are reported to experience symptoms that resemble drunken stupor when they meet their fated mate.
“Don’t even think it, Raul. I wasted two hundred prime years of my life looking for my Luminary. She’s not going to appear as Little Red Riding Hood at one of my office parties a century after I’ve given up searching for her.”
“If you say so, sir.”
Despite Drake’s ramblings, he knew there was something off about his reaction to Emelia. The way she’d looked in that silly costume had captured his interest first—the crimson corset hourglassed her figure and flaunted the plumpness of her breasts, making his mouth water and his hands ache to brush over her skin. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, hands down, oozing sex appeal without trying. But it was the sincerity behind her piercing stare that had held Drake prisoner in the cellar. Those midnight-blue eyes had spellbound him, rendering him speechless, pinching his heart in a vise. He’d never experienced anything like it before.
Emelia Hudson.
Could he really have found her? His Luminary? The idea struck him as ridiculous. He was an Alpha, rightful heir to the Seattle wolf pack throne. She was human. She wasn’t a born werewolf, and to be turned would mean she wouldn’t be strong enough to have children. Or, in the case that she became his mate, Alpha heirs. In three hundred years, he’d never heard of an Alpha finding a human as his Luminary.
Fate was a nasty bitch, with a twisted sense of humor.
After leaving the cellar last night, Drake had retreated to his room. He’d dived into old texts about the reaction an Alpha werewolf would have upon finding his one and only Luminary—the eternal light in his life, his soul mate. He’d studied the chemical reaction that sparked between fated lovers upon first touch. Everything was spot-on to how he’d felt down in that cellar…with her.
Still, Drake had to meet her again. Just to be certain. He could’ve mistaken off-the-charts chemistry with the Luminary reaction, couldn’t he? Simply meeting in the halls wouldn’t be enough to figure it out. He wanted more than a single touch and a few cordial words in passing. There was too much on the line to take the situation lightly. Drake needed to keep Emelia Hudson close until