Gone With the Wolf by Kristin Miller Page A

off the change as well as you did. I expected you to shift long before I got the tranquilizer loaded up.”
    “I couldn’t let her see me that way.”
    They weren’t exactly on the best of terms, but any chance Drake had of getting close to Emelia would’ve evaporated the instant he shifted into wolf form.
    As it was, they’d cut it close. He wasn’t sure how much Emelia had seen, but he’d soon find out. She’d have a million questions, and he’d have to come up with answers that were as close to the truth as possible. If there was any chance of them being together, he had to reveal the truth to her slowly, and when she was ready.
    “Why the hell was there a werewolf on that street? Emelia’s probably gone her whole life without running into a single one of us. She meets me and gets attacked. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.” Drake scrubbed his hands over his face. “I shouldn’t have left her alone in that bar.”
    “You went back, sir.” Raul brought over a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. “There are too many members of our pack for you to monitor the second one goes rogue.”
    “You really think he was from our pack?”
    “What are you implying, sir?”
    Drake shook his head. “I’m not implying anything. It’s just too bad he died before giving up any information.”
    “Perhaps next time I’ll nail him with one dart, sir, instead of six.”
    Drake bit back a laugh. “One can never be too careful.”
    Emelia stirred. Little mewing sounds escaped her lips as she rolled over and clutched the sheet against her chest. Something stirred in Drake’s rib cage and he dragged his gaze away. She was innocent, oblivious to what she’d gotten herself into. It was staggering how quickly her reality was going to change when she was ready to accept it.
    He hadn’t known Emelia long, but he knew she was full of life with a bright, bubbly spirit. She didn’t ask to be tugged down into their twisted pack dynamic. She wasn’t born a werewolf like the others in his pack—how could she be expected to understand a world filled with werewolves and Luminaries and pack mentalities?
    Sighing, Emelia rolled over to face Drake, and tossed the sheets off her body like it was a sweltering summer night. She threw her arms over her head and moaned, robbing the moisture from Drake’s lips. Her tank top had drifted up, revealing a flat stomach and a sexy little belly button…with a silver ring hooked through it. Drake’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. He took back every nasty thought he’d ever had about piercings being trashy or unnecessary or frivolous. All he could think about was smudging kisses over her stomach and gently raking that ring through his teeth.
    “Raul, I want you to check into movements of Silas’s European group.” Drake steeled himself for the words. “They’ve remained small and mobile, but I think we have some guys who can track them. I hate to think Silas would stoop this low and try to kill Emelia before we complete the bond, but I’d be stupid not to look into it.”
    “Will do, sir.” He let himself out without a sound.
    Drake leaned forward, his gaze skimming over Emelia’s succulently rounded breasts, the long, slender curve of her neck, and her petal-pink lips. Her skin was remarkably pale against his black satin sheets. She looked like a porcelain doll with a wild mane of blond hair.
    He didn’t want to think Silas’s yearn for total dominance would cause him to send out a hit on an innocent woman, but he couldn’t ignore the humming in his gut, either.
    Something wasn’t right.

Chapter Six
    Emelia smelled the doughnuts before she saw them. Her stomach rumbled, and for a split second she’d forgotten everything: the biker, the attack, Drake.
    She gasped, shooting out of bed. Good Lord, it wasn’t even her bed. It was a steel-poster king-size bed built for a mammoth. The black-cherry covers had been folded back and the satin sheets had been