The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby(9)By: Saranna DeWylde
He started to dig around for his wallet.
“No, they’re on the house. A congratulations on your recent fatherhood.” She shoved the box through the window.
“You know how you can thank me? Give me a ride back to the shop.”
She went around to the passenger side and hopped in. “So, you know I don’t really need a ride. I want to give you some advice about Emmie.”
“I figured as much.” He warned his wolf to be cool, but it didn’t seem to take offense to the sugar fairy, which relieved him greatly. Whenever anyone got between a wolf and his mate before they were marked, even to offer helpful and non-confrontational advice, it could get really ugly.
“First, I am so glad you’re not an Alpha.”
He wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or not. His wolf wanted to snarl at her, snap at her throat and show her that a Beta could be strong, a Beta could be the definition of an alpha male without being Alpha. But he breathed deep and exhaled his rising fury.
“An Alpha wouldn’t be able to let her make her own choices. I know Emmie pretty well. Her past is ugly and dark. Her ex-husband made it that way. I think she’ll come to you if you’re gentle. She speaks of her time in Santorini with a light in her eyes and a special curve to her smile. We sugar fairies are good at spotting all sorts of sugar, especially the sweet things like tenderness, hope, and love.”
“She doesn’t love me. We barely know each other.” His wolf growled in his head, angry that he would say that knowing she was his mate.
“No, maybe not yet. But she will, if you give her the space and freedom she needs to be safe.”
“The wolf nations are at war.” If it wasn’t common knowledge yet, it soon would be. There was no harm in telling the sugar fairy.
“I can see how that will be problem. Eat the truffles. They’ll help. Sweet things soothe the beast.” Gin winked.
They pulled up in front of the shop.
“We are safe here, aren’t we?” she asked.
“As safe as you can be. Westwood has re-enforced the boundaries.”
“Against the bone fairies, too?” She looked up at him, blue eyes wide and luminous. “I’ve been dreaming of them.”
The bone fairies had held her captive, done terrible things to her. And the Woolvens felt the residents of Den Hollow were as much pack as if they’d all been Turned. “I think after the last time they tried to cross our borders and Westwood tore the head off of their general with her bare hands, they’re content to move on to easier prey.”
Another box appeared in the fairy’s hand. “Speaking of, will you take her these cupcakes? They’re mocha cakes with Nutella frosting.”
“She’ll love them.”
“Happily Ever After is waiting for you. Don’t fuck it up.” She closed the door and unlocked her shop.
Don’t fuck it up. Yeah. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. Just by acknowledging he had a true mate, he might have fucked things up for the pack. He didn’t envy Blake the choices he had to make as Alpha. Not at all.
The first thing he did back at Aphelion was find Mrs. Westwood.
She was currently wearing her maiden body. He didn’t like it. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her. “Going bar-hopping or something?” Drew nodded to her choice of attire—a much too tight dress and six inch heels. Of course, then there was the matter of her face. Not a kindly granny wrinkle in sight. Or a gray hair. It fell down her back in soft black waves. She looked every inch a succubus.
She laughed. “You’re old enough to know how these things work, Drew.”
“No, I’m really not.” He shook his head. “Can I please have Westwood back? You’re Eleanor. I don’t like it.”
She laughed again, way too amused for his liking. “Serves you right, you furry little terror.” But she adopted her grandmotherly veneer, gray bun and kindly wrinkles all where they were supposed to be.
“Much better, thank you.”
Mrs. Westwood canted her head to the side and touched his cheek. “Oh, this is serious. What’s happened?” Her lips thinned. “Did someone…” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll smite them.” She took her role as caretaker to the lot of them very seriously.
Drew could honestly say he’d never want to be on the wrong end of that witch.
“No, nothing like that. At least not yet. I need you to gather your supplies for the spell that will keep a young wolf from Changing until he’s ready.”
“Is Randi—” Her eyes widened.
“No, Blake’s mate isn’t with young. The Woolven heir has already been born. He’s my son.” Every time he said the words “my son,” pride swelled in his chest.