The Billionaire Werewolf's Witch (Paranormal Shifter Witch Romance): Howls Romance Page 4

  That didn’t stop her. “Plus, it’s ad infinitum. Forever since, if you squint at this contract sideways, it’d be a new agreement and not a continuation of the old. If anything, it’s the fucking vamps that should high tail it out of here because the entire county belongs to you now. All of it. They are persona non grata, and they should be bending over backwards to keep you happy. Why the hell did your lawyers even entertain this agreement? For the love of fur, don’t any of them have a copy of the spelled original? My family—”

  Rachel snapped her teeth together, cutting off her next words. She didn’t want to reveal her roots, fearful that it’d give Grant a true reason to send her packing. Being a witch was one thing. Being a watcher… Well, that was another.

  She turned her attention to the wolf beside her and froze. She wasn’t seated beside a man. No, Grant had been replaced by the wolf. Entirely. Oh, the body was still humanoid, but the eyes were all animal. His beast stared out at her while fur sprouted to coat the man’s body. Claws tipped his fingers and his teeth had sharpened and lengthened during her speech.

  This… This was a true wolf.

  And she was fucking scared.

  The wolf wouldn’t let him free, wouldn’t grant him power over their shared body. He watched as the beast snarled at Rachel. His mate. The beast was beyond angry, beyond rage. Pure, molten fury pounded through his veins, and the emotions were directed solely at the vampires.

  They’d infected the attorneys and Grant wondered what else the beings had accomplished.

  My father…

  It was quite possible. No one had found his father’s killer, the man having been shot in the head during a run, an instantaneous death, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. And at that point, Grant had still had a lot to learn. Like the fact that the contract was at an end, and the land now belonged to the wolves. His father must have known.

  The acrid scent of fear overrode his senses and the wolf seemed to realize that he was scaring their mate. In a blink, the beast bound back and shoved his human mind forward, anxious to soothe their other half.

  Flicks of pain whipped his skin as his fur receded and his teeth returned to normal until he felt human once again. The vampires had probably killed his father for his knowledge. And now they were after him since he’d wanted time to review the contract himself.

  Grant forced a calm he didn’t feel and looked at his pale-faced mate. “Do you have a copy of the original? Can you get one?”

  Rachel’s pale, pink tongue darted out to lick her lower lip. At any other time, he would have seen the action as an invitation. Desire would have unfurled in his belly, his cock going hard, and he would have delved into her sweetness.

  “No. Maybe.” He could hear the rapid tattoo of her heart within her chest, the speeded rush of blood in her veins.

  “Because you’re a witch?” Color fled her face, features going tense with his words. “I don’t hold it against you, Rachel. Others may, but I don’t.” With his human-shaped hand, he reached out and stroked the fist that rested on the table. He worked to ease the tension that filled her. It wasn’t healthy for his mate to worry so. “I swear it.”

  “I’m…” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “I’m not just a witch, Grant. I’m a watcher. My family… My family name is Marrok.”

  “You’re part of one of the oldest families.” His voice was hoarse with disbelief. None of the paranormal races held love for the watchers. They did as their name implied: watched and then recorded. Occasionally they mediated between races as impartial arbitrators. That was their sole usefulness to the others. No one appreciated having their sins jotted down for all time. Or the prospect of being reported to the Senate for disciplinary action. Their laws were few, but violating them meant immediate death. And watchers would know it all.

  The Marroks had been assigned to the Hamr pack since its inception and they’d managed to avoid Senate action through the years.

  “My great aunt Petunia changed my last name when my parents were killed. She made sure she got my parents’ journals before anyone else found them, and I’ve been studying them ever since. There’s a lot I can’t do, like actually ‘watch’, but conjuring the original document should be straightforward since my family created it in the first place. And I think that’s why the vampires killed my parents. They probably knew about the end of the term, and would have worked with the Alpha to end it peacefully. I just didn’t know…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her inherent scent teasing him. “I can help you save the pack, and then I-I-I can leave the city.”

  Grant’s gut clenched and it felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His response was immediate. “You’re not leaving.”

  Never.

  Rachel shook her head. “It’s for the best. You know that. Your pack may appreciate my help, but they won’t let a watcher, let alone a Marrok, live in the city.”

  He curled his lip. “They will if they want to live.”

  “Grant—”

  “No. I would appreciate your help, but you’re not leaving the city. This is your home. I’m your home.” He glared at her and dared her to speak against him while he internally winced at what he’d revealed. He knew she was skittish because there truly was animosity between witches and wolves, even more so with the watchers, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to his mate. Ever.

  Not giving her the opportunity to object to his words, or examine them too closely, Grant snatched her from her seat and yanked her close. He forced her to sit across his lap. She struggled, pushing against his hold, but he calmed her by pressing his lips to hers in a fiercely possessive kiss.

  Grant brushed his mouth across hers, savoring the soft sweetness of her lips. He gathered the honeyed flavors, nibbling until she opened to him. He swept his tongue into her, a sweet invasion of her mouth, seeking out more of her natural flavor.

  His cock stiffened in his jeans, throbbing and aching within the tight confines. His wolf, ever present, nudged him, urged him to take their connection further.

  He conquered and claimed, stroking her mouth, discovering and learning what made her moan and wiggle. Her ass shifted on his lap, the curve of her plump bottom petting him with her innocent movements.

  Were they innocent?

  The musky, heated scent of her arousal drifted to him on the cool air, taunting him, teasing him with what lay undiscovered.

  His tongue found hers again and again, twining, dancing, twirling… He alternated between gentle suction and rhythmic suckling, mimicking what he’d like to do to her delicious body.

  Delicate moans and soft whimpers seeped from her mouth, muffled only by his passionate kisses.

  Rachel shifted again, legs sliding and pressing together as the heady fragrance of her need mocked him. He wanted to slake her desire, give her everything she craved and then more. The wolf inside him agreed wholeheartedly.

  Reluctantly, he pulled his lips from hers, eased away even when she seemed to chase him. “You’re mine, Rachel. I don’t want to hear any more talk about leaving.”

  “Grant…” His name was a cross between a moan and a whimper.

  “What do you need, baby?”

  She rocked her hips, thighs clenching.

  “I don’t do this.” She shook her head. “Why do I want you so much? I’ve never…”

  Grant nuzzled her neck, scraping her vulnerable skin with his exposed canines, and reveled in the shudder that traveled through her body. He nibbled her earlobe and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. He catalogued her response to him, the increased tempo of her breathing and the rapid beat of her heart.

  “No. You need… I can’t breathe… And we should stop…” Again she shook her head in denial.

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  She leaned away from him, but he held her fast, unwilling for any space to separate them. He wouldn’t force her, but he wouldn’t let her run and hide from the truth, either. He knew she felt their connection, she jus
t couldn’t recognize it for what it was.

  Their mating.

  “No, it’s the danger or Stockholm Syndrome or… You don’t want me.”

  Grant stroked her back, slid his palm down the shivering length, glad he hadn’t bothered with trying to find a bra or panties for her. His mate was completely bare beneath her oversized clothing. Bare for him.

  He eased her close again, pressed his face to her neck and nibbled her shoulder. He couldn’t wait to sink his shifted teeth into her flesh and claim her, change her.

  Rachel whimpered. “Why do you keep kissing me?”

  He didn’t answer her question right away, couldn’t tear his lips and teeth from teasing her skin. She tasted like honeyed strawberries and sunrise on dewy grass and not even wild horses or blood-crazed vampires could have pulled him away from her.

  “Because you’re mine.”

  Chapter Four

  Because you’re mine.

  The three words had tumbled through Rachel’s mind the remainder of the night, and into the next morning as she tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed. Her thoughts had whirled for hours after plopping onto the uncomfortable mattress and sleep had been long in coming.

  Because you’re mine.

  Grant hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. He’d growled and grumbled when she’d hopped into bed and then snuggled and hugged the blanket around her body. He’d practically snarled when she kicked him out of the room.

  Because you’re mine.

  Wolves only made a claim like that for one reason…

  Because you’re mine.

  She didn’t want to believe his words. She was a college dropout, no-longer-pre-law student and sub-standard secretary. He was… Grant Hemming, President of Hemming Industries, had a bank account with an insane amount of zeroes, and was Alpha of the Hemming Pack.

  Had she ever tapped into her abilities as a watcher, hell, accepted her position as watcher, she would have known to run far and fast from Hemming Industries.

  Super far. Like, China.

  Because you’re mine.

  Grant had to have been teasing, trying to lure her into bed for a little bow-chicka-bow-bow to make her more malleable. Hell, it probably would have been a little “thank you” for helping him out with the pack.

  There. Now that she’d figured it out, she didn’t feel quite so spastic.

  It was a pity flirtation.

  A heavy knock on the bedroom door yanked her from her thoughts, and the portal swung open on silent hinges.

  The man hadn’t even asked before barging in.

  “You’re awake.” His feet made barely a sound as he padded across the room, coffee mug in hand.

  She forgave him. He came with coffee, after all. It was morning. Well, evening, actually. The sun was dipping toward the horizon in a glorious sunset. She’d been up all night with that damned contract and the books Great Aunt Petunia had sent over. The wrinkly old gal still had some magic in her. While the woman wasn’t a Marrok descendant and couldn’t help Rachel conjure the original agreement, she had been able to send the journals over with a magical poof.

  Arms extended, she reached for the steaming mug at his approach, not caring if it was black or loaded down with cream and sugar. It was coffee!

  Fingers within inches of the ceramic mug, she watched as it was snatched from her near-grasp and held aside, just out of reach.

  “Hey!”

  Attention diverted by her lack of caffeinated goodness, Grant leaned in and then his lips were on hers.

  Rachel couldn’t do a thing about it. Not that she particularly wanted to stop him.

  No, his lips were as soft as she remembered, tongue just as warm as he lapped at her mouth, and teeth just as maddening when he nibbled her flesh.

  His kiss was breathtaking and seductive, sweet and passionate, and way, way too addictive. He enticed her with delicate sweeps of his tongue, beguiled her with the heated flavors of his mouth and outright made her shudder with need.

  The man, the wolf, was dangerous.

  And she liked it.

  Rachel forgot that he was using her, probably more than a little, and embraced his passion, matched him stroke for stroke, moan for moan. Her pussy ached, needy and pissed as hell that she hadn’t finished what they’d started before bed. Her nipples ached, hardened into tight nubs and silently begged for his hands, his mouth.

  She wanted him. Now.

  But, apparently, fate had other ideas.

  The muffled thump of the mug striking the floor yanked them apart while Grant cursed and shook his hand.

  Dazed from the abrupt end of their kiss, she looked over to find the steaming coffee not only coating the carpet, but his forearm, as well. His tanned skin was flushed red, and she could only imagine the heat coating him. But, just like that, the crimson flesh lightened to a pale pink and then returned to its normal, healthy hue.

  Like magic.

  Or, a werewolf.

  Which brought her right back to the crux of the matter.

  Because you’re mine.

  Breathing heavily, Grant bent to grab the mug and then straightened, his gaze intent on her. The wolf looked out at her from behind his human eyes, and she fought the shiver of… What? Desire? Fear? No, need. Her body craved the man and the beast alike.

  Damn it.

  She wanted love, marriage and babies like everyone else. She didn’t want them to come in the form of a werewolf whose pack would probably debate on whether to make her prey during a hunt or simply kill her outright. And what would happen to the part-witchy children, er, pups?

  Arousal deflated in an instant. “Grant—”

  Something in her expression had to have tipped him off because his shoulders slumped. “We’re going to be late for our meeting.”

  Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “You know they’ll try to kill you.”

  “And they’re welcome to try when I’m surrounded by my sentinels. We know they’re not honorable, so I have no problem bringing along some of the pack and killing anyone who tries to harm me and mine.” He shook his head. “They already tried to take what’s mine once. I’ll be damned if they get the opportunity to make another attempt.”

  “But—”

  “There are some clothes and shoes in the closet that’ll fit better than what you wore to bed. We’ve got a range of sizes.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Since this is a wolf safe-house, I doubt you’ll have something for me. Wolves aren’t exactly fluffy-esque people.”

  Grant struck like a snake, one minute he stood aloof and the next he was bent over her, hand gently fisting her hair and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You are beautiful. Perfect. Your curves practically have me drooling, and I won’t let you say anything bad about yourself. You’re gorgeous inside and out, Rachel.”

  The conviction with which he said the words compelled her to believe him and had her heart opening the tiniest bit to this fierce Alpha.

  He brushed his lips across hers in a chaste kiss and then he was gone, the coffee stains on the carpet the only evidence of his presence.

  Because you’re mine.

  The words didn’t worry her as much as they should. Not anymore.

  An hour later, those words carried Rachel through the tense meeting with Grant’s sentinels as he gave them the bare bones version of events. Sans Rachel’s witchdom, of course. Those words snuggled her when she was locked within the confines of a Hemming Industries SUV surrounded by wolves. They held her close when she stepped from the vehicle and onto a barren swath of land.

  Grant’s eight sentinels surrounded them as they moved forward, Hagan included since he’d easily recovered from his vamp-inflicted flesh wounds. The attackers hadn’t hit anything important, just his shoulder, bicep and thigh. His body had healed the “paltry” holes in no time.

  As a group, they moved forward with Grant at her side while they walked within the circle of wolves.

  Additional SUVs sat opposite them, and
several people, vampires, stepped from them at their approach. Five total. Four men and a single woman emerged, all impeccably dressed in what she assumed were custom tailored suits.

  The lone female walked ahead of the men, confidence pouring off of her in waves, and Rachel figured this was the one pulling the strings. When ten feet separated them, the wolves before Rachel and Grant parted to give her a better look at the clan’s leader.

  “Alpha Hemming, I assume you have an explanation for these…men. The original agreement decrees that the leaders would arrive with an entourage of no more than four. I came here in good faith to discuss the contract, at your request, and then you bring…” The woman’s gaze enveloped the area and her ice blue eyes flashed red for the barest of moments. “Your beasts.”

  Rachel hated her on sight. The vampire couldn’t simply insult her pack, her—

  No, she hadn’t accepted Grant’s pronouncement. He was using her. Period. She wasn’t pack.

  From head to toe, the vampire oozed beautiful sensuality. Her suit hugged her trim curves and her features could easily entice a man to launch a thousand ships.

  She was also the leader, Sophia. Grant had warned her that she was a pretty little bitch and the most dangerous in the clan. Rachel could believe it.

  “And I appreciate your willingness to meet here on neutral ground. My sentinels are simply here to ensure my health. I’m sure you’ve heard about last night’s unfortunate incident. I didn’t want any of your rebellious young vampires attempting to disrupt us this morning.” The wolf oozed with charm and Rachel had to bite her tongue to withhold her laughter. She knew his only desire was to wipe the appearance of innocence from the vampire’s features. “It’s so hard to keep a leash on the babies.”

  “Oh, my. Yes, I suppose some of the younger ones don’t care for our business, but it is not their place. If you’ll turn them over, I will see to their punishment.”

  From the corner of her eye, Rachel watched Grant give the vamp a fake smile. “That’s unnecessary. I handled two myself and, Hagan, I believe you took care of the third?”