Annette couldn’t be a werewolf. No way, no how.Sure, she’d woken up after her near death experience with abilities she hadn’t had before. Things like seeing smells, vision like a hawk, and hearing so accurate she could pinpoint a mouse farting three rooms away. So far though, there had been no hint of fur (apart from her legs, which were in desperate need of a shave after a week of inattention). New abilities though, didn’t mean she was a werewolf. She’d read somewhere that people who suffered head trauma sometimes gained completely new skills—like being able to speak a new language, play an instrument, or suddenly became an uber-smart math whiz. Acquired Savant Syndrome or something. Yeah, that had to be it. The accident that had nearly killed her had obviously left her with some side effects. A frown creased her brow. No one would tell her much about the accident either. All they would say was that she was lucky to be alive, and if she wanted more details then she needed to spea
“No, how the hell should I know how many can take a bite?” she admitted. And she didn’t have a clue. She knew werewolf carefully controlled who they bit, that they had to have permission from the pack alpha. Her auntie, wanting to sink her claws deeper into the Michaelson fortune, had petitioned Richard to turn them. All of them. She hadn’t even thought to ask her son and niece whether they wanted to be a werewolf or not. All she’d seen was a way to ensure she kept her place and access to the money she liked so much. Annette would have; she knew that without thinking. Anything to learn more about werewolf and perhaps get closer to Xavier. But the request had been denied by his father. Repeatedly. Eventually even Josephine had gotten the message. They weren’t good enough to be werewolf. A message which had been driven home hard and fast, and she still felt the sting of today.If she wasn’t good enough, why had Xavier transformed her?“Why?”Even standing on the other side of the desk
“You were dying. What would you expect I do… Leave you there?” His expression was hard, like a whip. “Give me some credit, Annette. I wouldn’t let you die. Not while you’re in my care.”He hadn’t answered her question. His expression said he wasn’t going to. Anger flared and a snarl rumbled in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a human sound; that made no sense, but she was too pissed off to care.“Dammit, Xavier.” She slammed her hands into his broad chest and shoved. It was like trying to shove a cliff but he rocked back on his feet, surprise in his eyes. “Just give me a straight fucking answer.”He grabbed her wrists, yanked her up against him as he turned, pinning her between him and broad desk. The heat simmering through her veins turned volcanic, supercharged, and shot through her veins. Her body went pliant in his grasp, her curves against the hard muscled planes of his larger form. Damn traitorous thing.“Answer?” His voice was no less a snarl than hers had been. “I’ll give
Of all the screwed-up, shitty situations to find herself in. Still fuming, Annette stormed through the manor like all the hounds of hell marched at her heels. She had no real idea where she was going, and to be honest, she really didn’t care. All she wanted was to get as far from Xavier as physically possible. Her expression was like thunder, so dark and ominous that the staff scattered before her, even though they were full werewolf and she, apparently, was not. At the moment, though, she really didn’t care. One more asshole mentioned pack law and she’d tear them a new one, werewolf or frigging not.By the time she’d worked her way down to the kitchens, her usual refuge in times of stress, her anger had turned to misery and a hard knot formed in the back of her throat. Hearing voices ahead, she ducked into a storeroom and pulled the door shut. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. As a human she hadn’t been good enough for Xavier, she’d known that— accepted that. But to find out
Annette managed to avoid Xavier for most of the day by escaping to the library. Not hard when he also appeared to be doing his best to avoid her. Probably didn’t want reminded of his mistake. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced what they’d had was just a bit of fun for him. That she was just a human plaything to be put aside when his duty to mate for the pack came calling. Asshole. She’d thought that about him so often in the last few hours, she should really append it as a prefix to his name. Scowling, she realized she’d re-read the same six sentences of her book for the last hour or so. With a sigh, she closed it and stood. It was a new one by her favorite author, one she hadn’t gotten around to reading yet, so to find it on the shelves of Xavier’s library had been a surprise. In fact, there was a whole shelf dedicated to romance, so someone in the house must be a fan.Not Xavier though, she couldn’t see him reading anything so frivolous. Perhaps somethi
"Ms McKinney?" The high pitched voice of the receptionist cut through her thoughts."Are you certain you have an appointment with Mr. Michaelson? I have gone through his schedule, and your name is not here," says the receptionist seated behind the glass and steel desk.Holy fuck. Annette was in deep shit, and a very nasty one at that. Annette McKinney sat in the expansive lobby of the Michaelson Empire and did all she could in order not to have a heart attack. She really did, but it appears that her body have a mind of its own. She could feel the tell-tale sign of a panic attack setting in. Trying to control her breathing, she did a little bit of breathing exercise.Until one month ago, she had never suffered stress or had any problem with a panic attack.Annette was an independent woman, making her way in the business world.She may not have an empire as big as the Michaelson but her pastry and small chops business down town was doing well. A business she single-handedly establish
That had been the end of their relationship and the last time Annette had seen any of the Michaelsons. Not physically per se. She had been keeping track of them on the news like the rest of the world.However, she refused to give her opinion on the looks and appearance of Xavier, the current alpha of the Michaelson pack, whenever her colleagues swoon over him. But as good looking as Xavier might be, appearances does not make up for his cruel attitude.And this is the same man she has to persuade into helping her. Fuck. This appears to be impossible."3:30 you said, that is unlikely because he has a 3:30 meeting with a client," puckered her blood red lips in confusion.Seriously, did Xavier demand the women working for him to dress like barbies in desperate need of sex or did they decide to look like this on their own in the hopes of snaring the billionaire werewolf."It is a brief meeting," replied Annette. Well, very brief. Annette thought.Enough time for him to get security to come
"I do know you." His voice sharp as a blade cut off her sentence before she could complete it. Arrogant bastard. She thought. But it did nothing to calm the storm she was facing, not in the slightest."What I am more interested in is why you are here." He said."Mr Michaelson, she claims that she have a 3:30 meeting with you," the receptionist said. Her voice seems to have changed, she was doing all she could to sound sexy and attractive, perhaps trying to get Xavier's attention at all cause, but in reality the sound of her voice was annoying. Annette had to stop herself from making a comment.Xavier gave a silent nod, not looking away from Annette."Please, I need your help.. For James."She finally said it. She could feel the gaze of the receptionist on her as she waited for his reply. The receptionist gave Annette a once over, sizing her up, and Annette gave her a dead stare in return. Annette was a woman who had curves in all the right places. She was provoke to run her hands al
Annette managed to avoid Xavier for most of the day by escaping to the library. Not hard when he also appeared to be doing his best to avoid her. Probably didn’t want reminded of his mistake. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced what they’d had was just a bit of fun for him. That she was just a human plaything to be put aside when his duty to mate for the pack came calling. Asshole. She’d thought that about him so often in the last few hours, she should really append it as a prefix to his name. Scowling, she realized she’d re-read the same six sentences of her book for the last hour or so. With a sigh, she closed it and stood. It was a new one by her favorite author, one she hadn’t gotten around to reading yet, so to find it on the shelves of Xavier’s library had been a surprise. In fact, there was a whole shelf dedicated to romance, so someone in the house must be a fan.Not Xavier though, she couldn’t see him reading anything so frivolous. Perhaps somethi
Of all the screwed-up, shitty situations to find herself in. Still fuming, Annette stormed through the manor like all the hounds of hell marched at her heels. She had no real idea where she was going, and to be honest, she really didn’t care. All she wanted was to get as far from Xavier as physically possible. Her expression was like thunder, so dark and ominous that the staff scattered before her, even though they were full werewolf and she, apparently, was not. At the moment, though, she really didn’t care. One more asshole mentioned pack law and she’d tear them a new one, werewolf or frigging not.By the time she’d worked her way down to the kitchens, her usual refuge in times of stress, her anger had turned to misery and a hard knot formed in the back of her throat. Hearing voices ahead, she ducked into a storeroom and pulled the door shut. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. As a human she hadn’t been good enough for Xavier, she’d known that— accepted that. But to find out
“You were dying. What would you expect I do… Leave you there?” His expression was hard, like a whip. “Give me some credit, Annette. I wouldn’t let you die. Not while you’re in my care.”He hadn’t answered her question. His expression said he wasn’t going to. Anger flared and a snarl rumbled in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a human sound; that made no sense, but she was too pissed off to care.“Dammit, Xavier.” She slammed her hands into his broad chest and shoved. It was like trying to shove a cliff but he rocked back on his feet, surprise in his eyes. “Just give me a straight fucking answer.”He grabbed her wrists, yanked her up against him as he turned, pinning her between him and broad desk. The heat simmering through her veins turned volcanic, supercharged, and shot through her veins. Her body went pliant in his grasp, her curves against the hard muscled planes of his larger form. Damn traitorous thing.“Answer?” His voice was no less a snarl than hers had been. “I’ll give
“No, how the hell should I know how many can take a bite?” she admitted. And she didn’t have a clue. She knew werewolf carefully controlled who they bit, that they had to have permission from the pack alpha. Her auntie, wanting to sink her claws deeper into the Michaelson fortune, had petitioned Richard to turn them. All of them. She hadn’t even thought to ask her son and niece whether they wanted to be a werewolf or not. All she’d seen was a way to ensure she kept her place and access to the money she liked so much. Annette would have; she knew that without thinking. Anything to learn more about werewolf and perhaps get closer to Xavier. But the request had been denied by his father. Repeatedly. Eventually even Josephine had gotten the message. They weren’t good enough to be werewolf. A message which had been driven home hard and fast, and she still felt the sting of today.If she wasn’t good enough, why had Xavier transformed her?“Why?”Even standing on the other side of the desk
Annette couldn’t be a werewolf. No way, no how.Sure, she’d woken up after her near death experience with abilities she hadn’t had before. Things like seeing smells, vision like a hawk, and hearing so accurate she could pinpoint a mouse farting three rooms away. So far though, there had been no hint of fur (apart from her legs, which were in desperate need of a shave after a week of inattention). New abilities though, didn’t mean she was a werewolf. She’d read somewhere that people who suffered head trauma sometimes gained completely new skills—like being able to speak a new language, play an instrument, or suddenly became an uber-smart math whiz. Acquired Savant Syndrome or something. Yeah, that had to be it. The accident that had nearly killed her had obviously left her with some side effects. A frown creased her brow. No one would tell her much about the accident either. All they would say was that she was lucky to be alive, and if she wanted more details then she needed to spea
He wasn’t strong enough to let her go. He couldn’t have her, but still he couldn’t release her to start a new life without him. Dammit. He closed his eyes, the weakness shaming him. He should send her away, but he couldn’t. Not yet. A presence behind him made him open his eyes and look up. He didn’t need to turn. The wolf, always alert, had already picked up the scent of another werewolf Male, with the unmistakable frisson only generated by another alpha, and a familiar scent.George. His second cousin, or something like that, on his father's side. An alpha himself, he’d joined the army right out of college and returned last year, bringing valuable medical training they sorely needed. Sure, Xavier could hire a private doctor, but there was nothing like a battlefield surgeon who understood how the werewolf body worked. “Any signs?” he asked over his shoulder.“Nothing yet. I have Ruth watching her for any changes.” George joined him at the window. Taller and broader in the shoulder,
Xavier had been born into money, old werewolf money, and from the moment of his birth only the best had been good enough. The most expensive toys, the finest clothes, and the most prestigious schools, were all things that were his simply by the happy accident of being who he was. His food had been prepared by a Michelin starred chef and his tennis coach had been a former champion… Nothing was too good for the Michaelson heir. Looks had followed. Puberty changed angelic boyhood features into something harder and more masculine. His body once gangly, feeling not quite his as he navigated with all the hapless manner of a teenager, filled out and brought the werewolf genes into play. Add in the animal magnetism of his newly emerging wolf and he’d never had a problem getting women. Instead, it was more a problem getting rid of them. They’d thrown themselves at him even back then, a situation his teenaged self had reveled in. Girls, women… Hell, his first time had been with a middle-aged
Death wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. There was a distinct lack of bright lights and absolutely no sign of the pearly gates or thankfully, the other place.Death was…quiet. Peaceful. Comfortable.Too comfortable.Expensive feather bed kind of comfortable.She was pretty sure the afterlife was more harps and clouds than feather beds, so what gave? The more she thought, the more sensation slipped through the blackness. Her body on the soft surface beneath, the pressure of a warm duvet above. Perhaps this was Heaven 2.0, a version never reported in near-death experiences. Anything was possible, right?That didn’t explain the voices that filtered through the fog to reach her ears.“Should’ve left her to die,” a sharp female voice said. Instantly, Annette disliked it and its owner. The whiny, petulant tone said bitch. “There’s no way the pack will accept her. She’s a transformed wolf. She will never be anything more than a beta. And hell knows, we have enough of them.”Pack. Transform
Xavier crashed through the door to James’s studio with more brute force than finesse. Knocking the splintered wood out of the way, he strode into the open-plan space. It was still as trashed as the first time he’d seen it, but instead of the smell of drying clay, the smell of blood and fear crawled into his nostrils. A bellow of rage exploded from his throat and he launched himself across the studio, following the distinctive feminine scent that hung in the air. Annette’s scent. He’d been called as soon as she’d left the apartment and thanks to an eagle-eyed guard, they’d managed to call to the right cab firm to get the address she’d been taken to. They might as well have saved themselves the call. He should have guessed she’d come back here. Reaching the destroyed door to the bathroom, he braced himself against the door frame as the scent of blood became almost overwhelming. Annette’s blood, he realized, as his keen gaze picked out the slumped figure in the bathtub. A moan rattle