The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby(4)By: Saranna DeWylde
They did not turn in to hairy predators that ripped normal people to pieces.
Noah looked up at her from the bath where he rubbed the shampoo diligently into his hair. “Do we have to move again, Mama?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You smell scared. Don’t be scared.”
“Okay, Noah. You just take your bath and I won’t be scared.”
“Promise?” His big amber eyes glittered. “I’ll protect you.” He beat on his little chest with his even smaller fist.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. The idea of her little baby already feeling these things, already marking his territory and getting ready to fight to protect what was his made her want to bawl.
“I promise, little man. Just get clean.”
He nodded emphatically.
Maybe there was time to run? Maybe she could grab him and get into the car and—a heavy knock killed that hope.
The wolf was literally at the door.
“Emmie, it’s me. Open the door,” Drew said when there was no response to his knock.
Maybe he should’ve taken some time to think about what he wanted to say, but he was struck with sudden need to chase her down.
He recognized that need for what it was, the urge to claim her. Mark her. Turn her. Make her his mate.
But he couldn’t.
He had a duty to his pack to mate where his Alpha directed.
Growing up, he’d always known his duty, and it had never been a burden until this very moment. If she was his mate, why hadn’t he had the urge to claim her until now?
The answer flirted with the knowledge brewing in the back of his brain, the thing he didn’t want to know.
It was because the boy he’d called a terrible little bastard was his son.
The realization rang true and the knowledge locked itself in his brain, but he still needed to hear her say it.
And he needed to know if he’d transformed. If he hadn’t, this was going to be an awkward conversation. But it couldn’t be coincidence that she’d ended up in Den Hollow.
“Emmie, we really need to talk.” Her fear turned his stomach. His wolf rose up to protect her, but he had to push it down. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The door opened a crack and his instinct was to push it open, charge in and—he had to smash those thoughts down with the same ruthlessness he had his wolf or they’d both overpower his humanity.
He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and the door opened wider.
Goddess, but she was beautiful. Even more so now that he knew she’d borne his child, that her soft, curvy body had nurtured his young. His emotions roiled like a tempest. All the things he’d missed… his birth. His first words. His first laugh. Drew missed out on providing for him, keeping him safe.
Keeping her safe.
His throat constricted. It would be so much easier if he could be angry with her. But he wasn’t. Even if she’d tried to find him, he hadn’t told her who he really was. He was Andrew Phillips to her, not Drew Woolven.
“Do you promise you won’t hurt me?” Her voice was soft, but the look she gave him was razor sharp.
“I swear, Emmie.”
“I suppose you should come in, then.” She stood to the side and he noticed she had small, chocolate handprints all over her pink t-shirt.
Those little prints made him smile as did the scents inside the house. It smelled overwhelmingly of her. Of honey and apples, and of a young male wolf. His pup.
Drew didn’t know how to begin. “It’s good to see you.”
And it was. Every part of him hungered for her. Her scent was immediately more vital than the oxygen that carried it, her very space in the world had become something holy to him.
He was so fucked.
She pursed her lips and looked down at her feet. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“I guess I should ask the question.” He reached out and tentatively lifted her chin so she had to look at him. “Is he my son?”
Her eyes were wide, luminous. He saw the waters of Santorini in their depths. He wanted to buy that hotel where they stayed, own that piece of beach and never leave. He didn’t want to think about his duty to his brothers, to his pack.
And his son.
“Yes,” she confessed with a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
The resignation in her manner tore at him as her shoulders slumped. He reached out and pulled her against him. She came willingly, but gingerly. As soon as his arms closed around her, everything was right in the world.
When she relaxed against him, returned his embrace, it was like turning on the sun when he hadn’t realized the light was gone.
“Why are you sorry?” she mumbled against his shirt.