Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,56

of the predicament. I thought it was the right thing to do…for her to know what kind of a future she faced with me.”

“Begging my pardon, sir,” Raul said, pressing the elevator door button. “But who told you about that…predicament?”

The elevator doors opened and they swept inside.

“My father,” Drake said, folding his arms over his chest. “I remember hearing rumors about females dying while I was in training in the Sierras.”

“Forgive me for saying so, sir, but your father was wrong.”

Drake’s gaze shot to Raul. “What are you talking about?”

“My cousin Veronica was turned by her husband, the Alpha of his pack in New Mexico. They have five beautiful, healthy children, and she’ll be three hundred and two next month.”

“Son of a bitch.” He’d lied. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

Drake didn’t need an answer. His father had always believed turned werewolves were weaker, and would never be as strong as pure-blooded, born wolves. He’d never wanted his sons to bond for love. He’d wanted them to bond for strength and the strong succession of the pack.

He had brainwashed them.

Emelia would be able to have his children. His heirs. They could build their future with or without children, but at least now they had the choice.

As the elevator doors hissed shut, Drake’s heart skipped a beat.

Chapter Seventeen

By the time Emelia shut off the lights in the bar, it was just past 2:00 a.m. The night had been slow. Slower than she’d ever seen on a Friday night. Were the other businesses in the area being affected the same way? She’d counted one thousand dollars in the till. Much less than it should’ve been, even for the weekend before Thanksgiving.

Emelia flipped up her hood and made her way outside, following the three packmates who seemed to be stuck to her side like glue. Drake’s black convertible Roadster was parked against the curb, its soft-top in place, its windshield wipers sloshing rain onto the sidewalk. Drake exited his car, circled the front, and met them under the awning.

“I’ve got things from here, gentlemen,” Drake said, his dark, brooding eyes flickering from one packmate to another. “Thank you for your service tonight.”

“No problem, sir,” Logan said with a curt nod. He turned his attention to Emelia. “If there’s anything else you need from me, Ms. Hudson, don’t hesitate to let me know. I left my card on the bar.”

Drake grabbed Logan by the scruff of his neck. “In case you didn’t understand, I said beat it.”

Logan nodded, and Drake released his hold.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emelia said as her bodyguards strode to the public parking lot across the street. “He’s just trying to be helpful.”

“There’s a fine line between helpful and…helpful.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “He knows what I’m talking about, and he knows I’m only half-serious.”

Drake was officially jealous. Emelia’s pride swelled.

“You know,” she said, locking up, “it’s a good thing he’s being the first kind of helpful, the one before the eerie eyebrow dance.”

Drake laughed as Emelia scanned the sidewalk, looking for signs of a stranger, a werewolf—someone who would jump out from between the buildings and attack her. The last time she’d come out of her bar at this hour, one of Silas’s packmates had been there, ready to take her head off. Although Emelia didn’t see anyone around, the creepy, hair-on-end feeling that someone was watching her remained as strong as ever.

“How’d it go tonight?”

“Good,” she lied.

She turned around and caught her breath. She hadn’t noticed Drake’s attire. He was dressed in dark-washed jeans, a stone-gray sweater, and combat boots. He was drenched, his dark hair sticking to his forehead in wet strands. For the first time, Drake had opted out of his stuffy suit and tie, or his pressed-straight polo shirts and slacks. Emelia fought the smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. He didn’t dress up for their date. At least not in the way she’d expected him to. This was better.

Somehow, from a few brief seconds at her side, Drake eased the tension in Emelia’s shoulders and settled the anxiety swirling in her stomach. She felt safe with him. Like no one would be able to touch a hair on her head with him around.

“Have you been waiting out here long?” she asked, pocketing her keys.

“No, just got here. I had some business to take care of earlier that consumed my day.” It was clear that he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not