A Cub For The Billion-were (Alpha Billion-weres Book 2) Read online

  What could she offer him? She had been on the run from her past since she was sixteen. She was a ghost. She literally lived out of her suitcase. She had no home address; she traveled around the country from job to job. She didn’t have a single friend.

  Yeah, she was only twenty-five. In theory, maybe she could learn how to live like a normal human being. But she wasn’t going to practice on Jeffrey. He needed a home. Stability.

  Her heart broke for him, and she had no idea what she was going to do now. CPS was probably looking for them.

  So Grant might not be an abuser. But just as bad, she was afraid that he was indifferent. How could he not have responded to her messages telling him that he was a father? What man wouldn’t want to meet his son?

  She left the restroom – which had two entrances. She deliberately went out the door in the back, because she was going to have to go hunt Grant down soon.

  She made her way into a lounge, which was near the hallway she would need to use to get to his room. A crowd of people was there milling around. The mention of Grant’s name caught her attention.

  A pretty, plump girl with brown hair was sipping a bottled water and talking to a skinny woman with blonde, spiky hair. They wore name-tags identifying them as Taylor, who was the brown-haired girl, and Chantelle.

  Yasmine came hurrying into the room, scanning the crowd looking for Celeste. Fortunately there was a group of men between her and Yasmine, and they were all surprisingly large and burly. All the men here were unusually big and rugged.

  “So apparently Mandy really is back with Grant,” Taylor said. “Can you believe it?”

  Yasmine, who was walking by them, shot an angry glance at Taylor. Apparently this was bad news for her.

  Celeste wasn’t surprised that Grant attracted that kind of attention. He might be a first-class jerk, but he was stunningly handsome. He towered over the dates she’d seen him photographed with, even the catwalk model types in Louboutin heels, and the exquisite, expensive-looking cut of the designer suits he wore couldn’t hide the swell and flex of the muscles in his arms and chest. A little shiver ran through her as she thought about those bedroom eyes, the color of top-shelf scotch, and that feral smile. She wondered if he’d be a good kisser…

  She shook herself. What the hell was she thinking? He’d left Jeffrey to be raised by her flake of a sister, who shouldn’t have been allowed to look after a goldfish. Then he’d gone on with his flashy, love ’em and leave ’em lifestyle and never given Jeffrey another thought. Call Copernicus, because apparently the Solar System doesn’t revolve around the Sun, it revolves around Grant Bronson.

  Chantelle shook her head. “I thought she’d given up on that stupid man-whore. Tell me, why do smart women date dumb werewolves?”

  Wait, what?

  Taylor sighed. “Honestly, I was starting to wonder if they were faking the relationship, but they broke the bed in his room last night. And they’re getting noise complaints because of their loud sex.”

  “Noise complaints about sex? At a werewolf convention?” Chantelle squawked in amusement. “For God’s sake, this is boink city, here. I’ve never seen a bunch of hornier mofos. All these Alphas in one place, all these Alpha groupies who think they’re going to be an Alpha’s mate…”

  Okay. Celeste needed to leave this room immediately.

  She turned and walked away, making sure to stroll casually rather than run like hell for the door like she wanted to.

  Werewolves.

  All those weird headlines all over the country about werewolves. Jeffrey’s sharp, pointy teeth and his pointy ears. She could only pray he hadn’t left sharp wolfy tooth-marks in that CPS woman’s arm. He must not have, or she would have said something.

  And now – she was listening to two women talk about werewolves as if it were a normal thing. That would explain why this meeting was happening in a private lodge deep in the woods.

  If this was true, Jeffrey needed Grant more than ever. How could Celeste keep a werewolf cub safe?

  She pushed her way through the crowd and stomped down the hallway, fingering the square of plastic she had in her pocket. It was a universal key card for hotel rooms. Highly illegal for her to own it – oops. It had also been illegal for her to hack into the lodge’s guest registry and find out what room Grant was in.

  As she approached the door, she hesitated. There were the loud sounds of sex, screams of pleasure, and a bed thumping against the wall.

  The hell with it. At least she knew Grant was there. He couldn’t exactly avoid talking to her now, could he?

  She slid her card into the card reader, then yanked the door open to reveal a surprisingly large room, its floorboards scattered with rag rugs. Chintzy curtains and stout, handmade wooden furniture completed the rustic picture. Folksy artwork hung on the whitewashed walls, and she almost didn’t notice the discreet price tags. A five-star hotel room made to look like Little House on the Prairie. Grant Bronson was standing there, sexy as sin and stripped down to his boxer shorts…kicking the bed with his bare feet. The footboard had splintered.

  The beautiful blonde girl, Mandy, was sitting in a chair across the room, fully clothed, with her back to him. She had earplugs in and was listening to an iPod.

  There was a Bluetooth speaker sitting on the dresser, playing the sounds of a couple having screamingly loud sex.

  Grant hurried over to the dresser and switched off the iPod next to it.

  “What the hell?” Celeste shouted.

  Grant stared at her, shaking his head in confusion. “Jennifer’s…sister? Twin?”

  So, while Jennifer had been calling up Celeste wailing about how her abusive boyfriend Grant had knocked her up and abandoned her…she’d never mentioned Celeste’s existence to Grant. Typical. To Jennifer, people only existed when she could find a way to use them.

  Celeste shook her head, struggling for words. She couldn’t even fathom what was going on here. Broken bed? Sex sounds blaring from a speaker? She didn’t want to know. Was this a werewolf thing, or was he just a total weirdo?

  “You…you freaking freak! You don’t deserve to be Jeffrey’s father!” she yelled.

  She heard footsteps pounding down the hallway towards them, and Taylor and Chantelle burst into the room behind her.

  Grant stared at Taylor and Chantelle. “It’s not what it looks like!” he said defensively.

  “Oh, you aren’t paying Mandy and all the other women you date to pretend that you’re a horn-dog? While never even having sex with them? Just so you can avoid having a relationship with anybody, ever?” Taylor said irritably. “There are therapists for people like you, you know.”

  “Can’t I just be a pervert with a fetish for kicking beds while a beautiful woman watches?” Grant asked hopefully.

  “She wasn’t watching. She’s ignoring you. She doesn’t even know we’re here.” Chantelle pointed at Mandy.

  “And by the way!” Taylor raised her voice. She made a “T for Timeout” signal with her hands. “Son? This woman mentioned that you have a son?”

  Mandy finally realized that there were other people in the room. She spun around in her chair and took her headphones out of her ears.

  “Hello, everybody,” she said. “Uh, I don’t do orgies. That would cost extra.”

  “The jig’s up,” Grant said gloomily. “She figured it out.”

  Mandy shrugged. “Oops, too bad so sad. You’re still giving me that shopping spree. Hey, that’s the girl who asked me if you ever hit me. Hello, weird girl, I’m Mandy.”

  “I’m Celeste. Not that it matters,” Celeste said bitterly. She turned to leave.

  Taylor blocked her.

  “Why does nobody care that Grant has a son?” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  “You do? Holy shiznit. Congratulations,” Mandy said.

  Now Grant looked angry, and bitter. “Of course I don’t have a son. First of all, I never had sex with this woman. So I would assume that she’s trying to claim I fathered a
son with her sister Jenny. Seven years ago. So, let’s see, my alleged son would be six now. And you know how I know that’s a lie? Because if I had a son with Jenny, she would have gone after every single cent she could get from me for that child. So yeah, apparently Jenny has a twin, and her twin is as big a grifter as she is.”

  Celeste stared at the splintered wood on the floor, then back at Grant, shaking her head in amazement. “Wow. Just wow. I must say, I’m quite impressed. Jennifer was always scraping the bottom of the barrel with her men, but she really outdid herself with you.”

  “That’s rich, coming from the scam artist’s clone,” Grant scoffed. “I’m a little sad, though. She couldn’t pull her hand out of her latest mark’s pocket long enough to visit me in person?”

  Celeste’s lip curled in disgust. “Sorry. She’s busy being dead.”

  “Sure she is,” Grant said, glowering at her. He grabbed his wallet off the dresser top and pulled out a wad of thousand-dollar bills held with a money clip. He threw the money at Celeste. It bounced off her chest and fell to the floor.

  Something twisted miserably inside her. He thought he could just throw money at the problem; money that meant nothing to him because he had so much of it. She’d known he was a shallow, self-centered bastard, so why did her heart suddenly feel dead and cold in her chest?

  “Jenny needs money and she couldn’t face me?” Grant yelled, his face flushing with anger. “There it is. Twenty grand. Keep it yourself, split it with her, I don’t give a—”

  But he was speaking to her back. She’d walked out of the room, leaving the money lying on the floor.

  Chapter Four

  Grant paced back and forth in the lounge, still wearing just his boxers. Werewolves were very comfortable with their bodies. Modesty was for humans.

  Celeste had been escorted off the premises once her ruse was discovered, with threats of arrest if she ever tried to come near the lodge again. He doubted she’d be back. That was a good thing, right? So why was his wolf snarling and pacing, clawing at the inside of his skin? Why did he want to chase her down and bring her back; drag her back if he had to? She damn sure wasn’t prey – not from the way she’d given him her back, a gesture of fearless contempt.

  Furious thoughts were churning through his head, making him dizzy. Why had she lied to him about him being a father? It had to be a lie.

  Rage roiled inside him. The moment Celeste had walked into the room, his wolf had practically leaped out of his skin. This was why he’d been so irritable for the past few days, he was sure of it. His wolf had sensed her presence and howled for release – to pursue its mate.

  Some werewolves embraced the concept of “True Mates”. His older brother and pack Alpha Cliff, the biggest cynic, the least romantic man in the world, had suddenly become a true believer when he’d met Taylor.

  Grant no longer believed. At least, he hadn’t until one hour ago.

  Oh, he had been hugely infatuated with Jennifer when he’d first met her, but it had been different. She’d appealed to his protective instincts, playing to his Alpha side. She’d seemed all sweet and helpless, like she really needed him, and he’d wanted to keep her safe. And when the end had come…he’d been hurt to the very core to find out just how thoroughly she’d played him.

  But it hadn’t been like this. The feeling that had zapped through him the moment he’d laid eyes on Celeste – hell, even before he’d laid eyes on her, when he’d just sensed her presence – he’d never experienced anything like that before.

  It was as though a silver wire, slender but unbreakable, ran from him to her, drawing them together, tugging at his heart with every move she made. He ached to take her in his arms, run his hands down the curve of her spine and feel her body yield beneath his touch. He wanted to press his lips against hers and take sweet, life-giving sips of her spirit, feeding her and consuming her until that thread was wrapped around them, knotted and tangled and binding them so tightly that they could never be separated.

  Was she really his True Mate – the twin sister of a lying, manipulative thief? A hustler who wanted to shake him down for money by pretending he had fathered a child? If so, the universe was playing a bitterly unfunny joke on him.

  Taylor, Chantelle and Mandy were standing together, watching him with wary expressions. A group of werewolves that had just been in a meeting was pouring into the hallway. The mood in the room grew tenser. A group of the old guard werewolves, headed up by powerful Montana pack leader Anthony Craddock, were clashing with the more progressive werewolves, headed up by Grant’s brother Cliff. They were digging their paws in every step of the way.

  They didn’t want a national database, they didn’t like computers, they didn’t want or need anyone’s help, blah blah blah. Grant could practically scent the testosterone as the two groups jostled each other. Ford Blackwood , one of the men in the progressive camp, “accidentally” bumped into Anthony’s beta Cyrus, drawing forth a furious snarl.

  Cyrus shoved his way towards Ford, bumping into Talbot Moore, who designed computer security systems. Talbot’s ice-blue eyes sparked with annoyance, but he held up his hands and said “Easy. We’re all facing the same threat here.” He was being unusually calm and reasonable; he was known for exploding into wolf form at a moment’s notice. However, he had a vested interest in convincing everyone to cooperate here. He’d be designing and maintaining the software for the central registry, and he’d make a fortune off it because every pack would be paying a hefty fee for it.

  Rusty, the big redheaded shifter who was Chantelle’s mate, had a scowl on his face, but he lit up when he saw her. He waved at her and started walking towards her.

  Taylor looked at Grant, frowning. “I am not an expert in the ways of the grift. But if Celeste were a grifter, wouldn’t she have taken that money?”

  Grant was one step away from shifting and running amok. He did not need this concerned-big-sister routine right now. “Did I ask your opinion? Did I ask you to be here?”

  Chantelle leaped to the defense of her friend. “Grant, quit being such a whiny little crybitchy, and figure out if you have a kid or not. Boo-hoo, someone broke your heart seven years ago. Quit using it as an excuse to be an asshole, and go find that woman.”

  “Fuck off,” Grant growled at her.

  “What the hell did you just say to my mate?” Rusty shouted at him. Was he suicidal? Grant was a Dominus, Rusty wasn’t.

  “I said the same thing to her that I’ll say to you. Fuck off.”

  Rusty’s enormous fist connected with Grant’s chin, right before he shifted into a large red wolf. Grant shifted too, into an enormous gray wolf. As Grant lunged at Rusty, Chantelle turned into a little, very mean white wolf in the blink of an eye, launched through the air, and fastened herself to Grant’s flank. Grant spun in a circle, wildly trying to shake her off. Blood ran down his side and stained his fur, but she still clung on.

  “Freaking Alphas,” Taylor muttered. Yeah, they’d all heal fast, but could they never find a way to resolve their issues without bloodshed?

  She would fight as a last resort, but not because she was in a pissy mood.

  Annoyed, she moved back out of the way, her nose wrinkling at the coppery smell of blood. She stayed in human form. Talbot Moore was still in human form too.

  “Congrats on your self-control,” Taylor said. Talbot’s eyes had gone dark, and fur rippled over his face, but he was still standing upright and wearing clothing.

  “This solves nothing.” It came out in a half-growl. “We need to work together. Pack of morons.” He shook his head at the howling, snapping pile of fur.

  A wolf snarled at Taylor, and Talbot quickly stepped in front of her.

  “Planning on killing me?” he said coolly to the wolf. “Or biting a woman?”

  Cliff barreled towards them, his face flushed with fury. He didn’t even bother shifting; he kicked the snarling wolf in the ribcage, sending it flying.

  “Change!” he bellowed at the crow
d of snapping, growling wolves, and sent out a wave of power. He was a Dominus going up against other wolves with the Dominus gene, but they hadn’t been expecting it, and his bloodline was especially powerful. Half a dozen of them changed back, shouting with pain. Being forced to change was excruciating.

  The remaining wolves backed away from each other, panting and slavering. Many were bleeding and limping, but they’d all be healed by tomorrow. Werewolves healed fast; Alphas healed faster.

  “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Cliff demanded of Taylor. She knew if she answered in the affirmative, the wolf was as good as dead.

  She smiled reassuringly. “He didn’t lay a paw on me. Or a fang. I am totally fine.”

  One by one, the wolves changed back into their human forms, naked now. A bunch of the groupies hurried over, giggling and flirting. Testosterone was an aphrodisiac for them.

  “Ooh, you were so ferocious!” a blonde cooed to one of the growling Alphas.

  He looped his arm around her waist. “I’ll show you how ferocious I can be.” He grinned. “What’s your name again?”

  Two hours later, Grant sat at the lodge’s bar. His side itched as the wounds sealed themselves back up. He was working on his thirtieth double shot of tequila.

  “Fucking shifter metabolishm,” he grumbled. “Can’t get shmashed when I wanna get shmashed. Keep ’em coming,” he added to Yasmine, the bartender. She’d been working the front desk earlier, but at night they had her behind the bar. The men liked the eye-candy.

  “I know what might distract you,” she cooed. “I heard you broke up with that nasty blonde Mandy. I can take your mind off your troubles.”

  “She’sh not nashty. She’sh my friend.” He knocked back another triple shot of tequila. “My only friend.”

  “I could be your friend.” She reached out to take the empty glass, and let her fingers trail over his hand.

  He jerked his hand away as if her fingers were red hot. “Could be, but you aren’t.”

  Her smile twitched but stayed in place. “You seem tense. I give an amazing massage.”