Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,65

out of here,” she said, and stormed out the door.

…

What the hell just happened?

Drake stood motionless, his entire body pulsing with heated waves of anger. Emelia left. She just left. How could she walk out on him over a bar? A bar that was destined to fail, no less?

He charged into the street, but it was too late. Emelia was gone. How’d she disappear so fast? Retreating back into Cosmo’s, Drake fumed, paced, walked from one side of the bar to the other as if it would do him good to stretch his legs.

Eyeing a bottle of scotch on the top tier, Drake scrubbed his hands through his hair, pulled down the bottle, and poured a stiff drink.

Damn it, he could still smell Emelia on his skin. He could still taste her, and feel her love filling him. Since they’d bonded, he could feel her like no other. It was like she was a part of him, no less important than an arm, a leg, or a chamber of his heart.

He loved her. She loved him. They were bonded for life. Then what the devil was the problem? How was offering Emelia a successful business wrong?

He shot the drink back, feeling worse than before. The scotch warmed his throat and buzzed down to his stomach, but the rage rattling his bones remained. He wanted to let the fire inside him erupt, chase Emelia down, clutch her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood.

“Like that would work, jackass!” He squeezed the glass and slammed it down so hard that it shattered. “She’s not going to listen to reason.”

He went palms-down over the bar and lowered his head. His jaw ached from clenching and his body shook from the force of his rage.

Emelia didn’t get it. Drake had survived as long as he had because he was smart. Because he made wise decisions. Because he knew when to quit a business or invest in one. He rubbed his temples, pinching his thumb and forefinger together when piercing pain shot through his head like a flaming arrow.

Emelia hadn’t asked for much, but what she did ask for was insane. It went against every bone in Drake’s body. It went against three hundred years of training and education. Keeping the Knight Owl and investing more money and time into it was a waste. It was absurd.

For the first time in Drake’s life, he didn’t know how to fix the damn problem.

Women, he scoffed, pulling back his shoulders. Can’t live with them, can’t ship them off to a deserted island.

As he walked out the door to Cosmo’s, he didn’t look to see which direction Emelia might’ve gone. He got in his car and put the radio on full blast.

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.

He would not invest in a business venture that would never go anywhere. He would not base his decisions on what he wanted to do over what he should do. He couldn’t only think of himself and what he wanted. Now that he’d become a true Alpha, he’d lost that luxury.

With a sigh and the burden of his pack on his shoulders, Drake shoved the Roadster into gear and turned toward home.

Chapter Twenty

Emelia squirmed against the hand covering her mouth. The moment she’d stepped out of Cosmo’s someone had grabbed her, dragging her into the alley next to the building. Her feet kicked and skidded as she fought against the man’s abnormally strong hold.

This wasn’t just any attacker—not that psychos had a telltale way they covered mouths and dragged bodies behind Dumpsters.

No, this guy smelled like wet hair and nasty dog slobber. Wolf, she corrected. Whoever it was had shifted recently.

“You’re going to be silent,” Silas said from behind her. “Or you’re going to be dead, got me?”

She nodded, trying to control her breathing. She needed to keep her head clear, which meant she couldn’t panic. Could. Not. Panic.

As Silas stuck the barrel of a weapon into Emelia’s back, she froze. She didn’t know a lick about guns, but common sense told her that the barrel of a gun should’ve been round. Whatever Silas had against her back was square.

Taser.

As the realization struck, Silas fired. Hard volts of electricity shot into Emelia’s body. She fell to the concrete, paralyzed.

…

Drake hadn’t talked to Emelia in three days. He’d explode if things kept going like this. He could feel Emelia, and sense her frustration and fear, but he couldn’t be with her. She wouldn’t answer his calls and she hadn’t