Black Wolfe's Mate (Paranormal Shifter Romance) Read online

  Black Wolf's Mate

  Avelyn McCrae

  Published by Avelyn McCrae, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BLACK WOLF'S MATE

  First edition. June 17, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Avelyn McCrae.

  Written by Avelyn McCrae.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Black Wolf's Mate

  Before You Begin

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Looking for your next good read?

  Black Wolfe’s Mate

  A Wolf Shifter Love Story

  Before You Begin

  WARNING: Due to frequent strong language and graphic scenes of a sexual nature, this book is intended for mature (21+) readers only.

  If these things offend you, then this book is not for you.

  If, however, you like your alphas a little rough around the edges and some serious heat in your romance, then by all means, read on...

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks go to:

  Aubrey Rose Cover Designs for this lovely ebook cover.

  Monica Black at Word Nerd Editing for her mad skills.

  Some very special ladies whose support, encouragement, and suggestions helped me create the book you’re reading right now: Carla S, Nicole S, Tonya B, Danielle R, Anjee Z, Lynn H-R, Teri N, Holly H, Efrat B, Amanda G, Deb B, Greta R, Rose P-P, Ryan H-L, Pattisue M, Jola K, Stacey B, Jennifer W-S, Nancy Z-K, Elizabeth F-G, Claudia F, Tracy S-O, and Carol T.

  Chapter 1

  “Is there something wrong, Miss Xanthopoulos?” he asked. Something was different about her today. Her lovely golden locks had escaped the toothed bondage of the abalone clip, but she hadn’t seemed to notice. Odd, since each minor shift in the sea breeze obscured her vision quite thoroughly.

  One would think she would notice something like that. He noticed right away. With all that shimmering luster whipping about her face, he couldn’t see her unusual eyes properly.

  And he loved looking at her eyes. Big. Enigmatic. Beguiling eyes.

  “I’m afraid I find myself with the oddest compulsion, Mr. Wolfe.”

  She had a lovely voice. In general, human voices tended to grate against his keen sense of hearing, especially human female voices. They were pitched too high for his acute auditory capabilities. But hers...hers was a caress, a stroke, soothing to the beast laying within him. She tended not to speak very often, preferring, it would seem, to listen rather than verbalize. They had that in common, though he found it quite irritating that the one woman he wished to speak was not fond of doing so — especially when she had the most interesting things to say.

  He lifted a perfect brow in question, though he doubted she could see it through that exquisite mass continually wrapping itself around her delicate features. His fingers itched to touch, to pet, wondering if it could possibly feel as silky as it looked.

  “I desperately wish you would make an attempt to kiss me,” she confessed, peeking shyly through the golden strands.

  He regarded her with cool, blue eyes, but said nothing. He just gazed at her, quite certain he’d never come across anyone like her before. He remained as still as the rock upon which they sat, the peaceful lull of the ocean lapping rhythmically against the breakers surrounding them.

  “Would you?” she prodded, after several minutes passed and he remained silent, unmoving.

  Not a flinch, not a flicker. “Absolutely not.”

  “Hmm,” she hummed, her pretty features mildly distressed. “Perhaps I shall just have to kiss you, then.”

  Her unexpected words stunned him to such a degree, he offered no resistance when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was the merest brush — curious, exploring. Not even close to a proper kiss, really.

  “Hmm,” she hummed again, and the sound travelled through every last neural pathway he possessed with a shocking intensity. She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. He put every ounce of warning into them he could. If she had any sense at all, even the slightest trace of self-preservation, she would cease and desist this insanity immediately.

  Instead, she smiled.

  Her lips brushed his again, more boldly this time. And moist. She must have licked them at some point. His lips parted of their own accord, due in some small measure to shock, but mostly to taste. Acute senses flared to life, aroused by this unusual woman. Like her voice, her scent and flavor were remarkably different from anything he had previously encountered.

  Quite simply, she was delicious.

  His body seemed incapable of moving at all, except perhaps to pull her closer. That he could not allow — under any circumstances. His control was already being pushed to extreme levels; he could not afford to lose any more.

  She hummed again — or was that a purr? He couldn’t tell which, but the vibration was uttered into his mouth at the same time she angled her body toward his. His skin tingled in warning as her exquisite heat soaked into him. She was too close. He tightened the reins on his already tenuous control through a sheer force of will, shaking slightly from the effort, but even his tremendous power was no match for hers.

  Tilting her head, her fingers were suddenly combing through his hair, the pads pressing lightly, then more insistently, against the back of his head, with just the barest hint of nails scraping his scalp, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Her tongue peeked out and touched his, a questioning, curious stroke, making his vision cloud with a red haze.

  Goddamn it! She made that sound again and he realized it came not just from her throat, but her entire body. As all that softness quivered against him, a deep-throated purr — definitely a purr — called to the beast within. This time, his beast answered for him in the form of a low growl erupting from somewhere deep within his chest. It was the last warning she would get.

  His fangs descended, sharp and lethal, against his will. Her unerring tongue found one and the taste of her blood exploded in his mouth. It was intoxicating. Addictive.

  Forbidden.

  With the last vestiges of his inner strength, he clamped his large hands on her delicate shoulders and pushed her away. His keen eyes searched her face for any hint of knowledge, premeditation, or cunning devilry, but he found none.

  Instead, he saw only surprise. Surprise and pleasure. The beast inside of him, dazed in wonder, realized she was no longer feeding him. It roared and clawed at the man, insistent on him rectifying that immediately. The beast was hungry — for her.

  No...

  He shot to his feet so quickly, she recoiled backward, her elbows landing hard on the solid heavy stone of the breakers. He winced, the idea of causing her any harm abhorrent to him, but he had no choice. He had to get away from her as quickly as possible. Fists clenched to keep from reaching out to her, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the seaside mansion, his body protesting every step.

  * * *

  To anyone who might have been observing the scene, Angelica Xanthopoulos would not have shown much of a reaction at
all. It took only a moment or two for her to gather her somewhat stunned self together again. In a move of fluid grace, she pushed herself back into a sitting position and, as she was wont to do, wrapped her hands around her knees. Her gaze soon fixed once again upon the far horizon. She did not call out to him. She did not turn around.

  But she did cry.

  Silent tears. Private tears. Without racking sobs or bobbing shoulders. Well hidden by the layered lengths sweeping around her face, shielding her weakness from any prying eyes.

  It had been a gambit with little chance of success. Men like him — gorgeous, reclusive, billionaire types — did not get involved with women like her. Tall — she guessed him to be at least six-foot-two — and powerfully built, he moved with the grace of a big cat and the confidence of a man who knew exactly the amount of power he wielded. He wore his blue-black hair just a bit longer than currently in vogue, his masculine features could have been carved by the angels, and his eyes were clear and infinite — bluer than the bluest sky on the finest day.

  Those things were, like everything else about him, perfect.

  Derrick Wolfe. Owner of the exclusive, remote resort in which she now found herself. Owner of the entire island, as a matter of fact. Wolfe Island. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Yet, for some strange reason, he had taken a passing interest in her.

  Of below average height, above average mass, she had no misperceptions of herself. She was the one no one saw. The invisible, silent nothing. The fact that she had garnered his interest, even for a heartbeat, was hard to comprehend.

  Maybe that was why she had done it. There was no logical reason for him to have been sitting out there with her as he had for the past three days. In the absence of logic, there was chaos. And only in chaos could she ever hope to fathom why, for the first time in her life, she had taken the initiative and actually kissed a man.

  A man who, unfortunately, did not wish to be kissed.

  Rejection, even perfectly logical, saw-it-coming-a-mile-away, no-other-possible-outcome rejection, still stung. But she wouldn’t regret it. She would probably never have another chance to do anything like that ever again.

  It had been worth it. And if she were lucky, she wouldn’t return to her room to find her bags packed and someone waiting to escort her back to the mainland for practically attacking the reclusive owner.

  At best, Derrick Wolfe would do everything possible to avoid her from this point on.

  She sighed. That was unfortunate. She had enjoyed his company. But she wouldn’t have had it for much longer anyway. Blackness rimmed the outside edges of her sight as the pressure began to build in her head.

  A storm was coming.

  Chapter 2

  Derrick Wolfe paced the length of his suite. It comprised the entire seventh floor and rooftops of the private residences in the northern wing of the centuries-old castle. Chiseled brick by brick from the obsidian-like stone so prevalent on the island, it had taken him and his pack nearly two-hundred years to complete and another hundred before he accepted the first guest.

  What the hell was wrong with him? In all of his many years, he had never lost control like that — not even as an adolescent.

  Through the ten-foot arched windows spanning the length of the west-facing wall, he could still see her, perched upon the cliff face. She hadn’t moved in hours. The sun was descending, bathing everything in spectacular hues of reds and golds. There were plenty of other guests out as well, enjoying the glorious transition from day to night, but they were on the beach mingling, drinking, dancing, and talking as the torches were being lit. Not sitting alone on a rock.

  Didn’t the foolish woman realize the rising tide would surround her perch and leave her stranded out there?

  Growling in frustration, Derrick called for Silas without uttering a sound. The man was at his side moments later. Ever calm, ever controlled, Silas was the ultimate predator. No one ever saw him coming until it was too late.

  “What have you discovered about her, Silas?”

  Because he’d been his pack mate for more than five hundred years, Silas knew just about everything there was to know about Derrick Wolfe. Including that he never, ever, took an interest in a human female beyond the occasional hour of physical release required by a healthy, virile male. Even if Derrick could not sense the other man’s emotions, he would have known Silas was worried, and with good reason. Being interested enough to ask Silas to find out more about her, when combined with the fact that he had not yet fucked her, was aberrant Alpha behavior.

  Silas was smart enough to keep his thoughts carefully guarded, however. He calmly followed Derrick’s gaze to where the woman sat unnaturally still amidst the outcrop of black stone as the tide washed in around her. His hazel eyes widened, only a hair, but that was a huge reaction for him. The sentinel was as immovable as the very rock upon which this tropical paradise was built. Derrick almost smiled.

  “Twenty-six years old. Quit her job as an editor and illustrator at Golden Goddess Publishing about a month ago. Sold her car, terminated her apartment lease, and emptied her bank account shortly thereafter.”

  “And how much did that amount to?” Derrick mused aloud. He guessed not much. The woman did not seem to take advantage of any of his resort’s extra pleasures, her clothing was inexpensive and simply made, and she wore no jewelry that he had seen. There was nothing about her appearance that might suggest even the tiniest bit of affluence.

  “Grand total: twenty-seven thousand, four hundred and eighty-two dollars.”

  A mere pittance, Derrick thought idly. He could probably open any drawer in his chambers and manage to fist more than that. Though, that was expected for a man who’d had centuries to find his niche.

  “How much did she deposit into her account here?”

  Each guest had a personal account from which funds were drawn to pay for their stay as well as any charges incurred. Derrick had never subscribed to the use of credit cards and it hadn’t seemed to hurt his business at all. Despite the abysmal global economic conditions that rose and fell with each generation, Wolfe Island suites was nearly always booked solid. There was even a waiting list.

  “Twenty-six thousand, five hundred.”

  Derrick frowned. Why would a woman cut all ties with the outside world and put nearly every cent she had into a vacation? She hadn’t seemed the impulsive, reckless type. His exclusive, isolated resort was not cheap. Twenty-six thousand dollars would barely cover a week, and it appeared she could hardly afford that much.

  Vaguely, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to that extra thousand.

  Silas answered his unspoken question. “Plane fare — mid-week, commercial with three layovers — was nearly seven hundred dollars. The rest was spent on discount summer clothing at a Walmart several days prior to her departure and a brief stop at the mainland gift shop the day she arrived.”

  Despite himself, Derrick was intrigued. “What of her family?”

  Silas didn’t even blink. “None that we can ascertain. Her parents died in a car crash when she was ten years old. She lived with distant relatives until she accepted an academic scholarship to a private school on the east coast of the United States. Did an apprenticeship for Golden Goddess before accepting a permanent position there.”

  Derrick’s frown deepened. No family. No money. No job. No residence. It was almost as if Angelica Xanthopoulos didn’t exist. Not to anyone but him, anyway. He couldn’t seem to get the woman out of his mind.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nothing of interest,” Silas said casually, though Derrick knew he was watching him closely. Judging by the intensity of Silas’ current scrutiny, his sentinel probably already knew of his unfortunate encounter earlier. Whether or not it warranted concern remained to be seen.

  They stood in silence for a few moments, two sets of preternaturally acute eyes watching the small, lone figure far below. Shadows from adjacent outcroppings lengthened, nearly obscuring
her in the fading light.

  “There was another attack,” Silas said quietly.

  Derrick’s attention on the woman splintered, his ability to multi-task a direct result of the duplicity of his nature. “When?”

  “A week or so ago.”

  “And we are just hearing of this now?” Derrick’s lips thinned. If there was one good thing about the technological advancements of the current age, it was that information could be conveyed in the blink of an eye. There was no excuse for the delay of a week or more, not when his race was being hunted to extinction.

  “The lair was in a remote location. The digital and satellite systems were compromised.” The same as the last three pack attacks — packs who wanted nothing more than to be left alone to live peacefully according to the laws of their nature.

  Derrick cursed the recent popularization of the paranormal. Most humans didn’t look past the pure entertainment value, losing themselves in fantasies that such creatures co-existed with them. But there were always those who took it a step further, who fired up their synapses and connected the dots to conclude that nearly all legends, no matter how unlikely, were based on some measure of truth. And among them, the zealots who made it their personal goal to discover and rid the world of such “evil”. It sickened him. Who were the true monsters?

  “Survivors?”

  “A few adolescents who had snuck away to the nearest town for a little fun and found the mess when they returned. They sent out the call as soon as they could.”

  “That’s all?”

  Silas’ eyes darkened. “It was a massacre. Dozens confirmed dead, with a few unaccounted for as of yet.

  “And the adolescents?”

  “Dieter and Niko have gone for them. They should arrive tomorrow.”

  Derrick nodded. “Good. Keep me posted.”

  He returned his attention to the window. The tide had risen substantially and still, she sat, seemingly unaware of everything around her. Except him. She was always aware of him when he went to her. He knew by her accelerated heart rate, the quickening of her breath.