Stealing the Heiress Read online

  Stealing the Heiress

  Saranna DeWylde

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Don’t be a fucko or Westwood will hex you to shit yourself to death.

  Published in the United States of America by Corvus Corax © 2019

  Cover Art by Rebecca Poole

  Stock Photo: Dreamstime

  ISBN: 9781948001151

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  1

  Warner Woolven had been built for war.

  Instead of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails, he’d been forged with brutality, cunning, and—well, maybe a puppy dog tail. War was a werewolf after all. Even his nickname marked him as the weapon he was. In any case, times of peace were unnatural for him.

  That wasn’t to say he didn’t long for them. He’d spent his life in service to the Woolven pack, his family. He’d not made his Alpha’s claim, instead letting that go to his brother Sterling, who needed it so much more. He’d stepped aside when Arianna, his one true mate had been torn between him and Sterling. When Sterling had been murdered, instead of then making his Alpha’s claim, Warner had allowed the mantle of Alpha to pass to Blake.

  When the time had come to fight yet again, Warner answered the call. He’d gleefully separated the wolf who killed his brother and the love of his life from his head and this plane of existence.

  When he’d realized he would die of those wounds he’d incurred in that war, he’d accepted it as his fate. It was a good, honorable death. It served his pack. They were safe.

  It was okay to rest.

  It was okay to sleep.

  It was okay to surrender to that dark ether of silence and stillness.

  Most of all, it was finally his turn to lose himself in the sweet, cold, chill of Arianna’s specter who’d come to greet him, to take him wherever the spirits of dead wolves went after their time on earth was over. To lay his head on her breast, be wrapped in the fiery rose-scented shroud of her red hair.

  And he’d been ripped from her arms by his beloved nephew’s sacrifice.

  Warner was ashamed to admit, he hadn’t wanted to come back. He’d done enough.

  Only, like in all things, Warner lived to serve. Literally.

  Except things had changed since he’d come back. A shadow loomed long and terrible at the edges of his awareness. He could see it just out of the corner of his eye, sense it swinging like the Sword of Damocles over his head.

  Something had come back with him from that shadow land between the living and the dead.

  Warner, for everything he’d given up, for all the scars he bore as a testament to his purpose, had never felt like an outlier amongst his pack. Sure, he spent most of his time in wolf form, but they’d always accepted him for who he was and never asked him to be anything but himself.

  Yet, as he sat among his family under the clear blue sky with a warm sun hanging over head, everyone eating and talking, he’d never felt more different.

  Separate.

  They were eating BBQ and roasted corn, baked beans loaded with bacon, and strawberry shortcake graciously provided by the sugar fairy Gin Goodwich. Everyone was laughing and bonding over the good memories they chose to give breath and life to wipe out all the darkness they’d recently faced.

  This was what peace looked like.

  Once upon a time, War had been able to let go of the awful things they’d had to do in the name of the pack.

  Now, all he could think about were haunting tableaus of ripping and tearing of flesh and fascia, the hearty crunch of bones between his teeth.

  The taste of blood and meat on his tongue.

  Nothing like the meat that lay before him. The pig. The cow.

  His massive jaws and predator’s teeth had always been a weapon he used to his advantage in battle. It was never any more than this. He didn’t like the taste of his own kind on mouth, but now he feared that’s all he could eat.

  He slavered, thinking of the last battle.

  To his shame and horror, Warner Woolven hungered for the flesh of his enemies.

  He feared that it was all that could sustain him.

  But more than that? He feared that he’d start to hunger not just for enemy flesh, but for something more awful.

  He was thrust from his dark spiral of thoughts by Maribella’s small hand curling around his and he turned to look at her.

  By the goddess, she deserved better than this.

  They weren’t True Mates, but she’d stood by him like a True Mate would. Had nursed him while his body healed, and had even held him while strange nightmares of monsters held him fast in their unforgiving grip.

  He had to protect her.

  He had to protect all of them from whatever abomination was growing inside of him.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  No, he was the farthest he’d ever been from okay.

  “We can probably sneak away. We’re still basically newlyweds after all.” Mari smiled at him, offering him the escape he needed, but couldn’t take.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ll stay a bit longer. After all, this is a celebration.”

  Noah, Emmie and Drew’s son, was home from Academy for the weekend and he’d appeared with the kind of stealth magic that only little children seemed to have.

  “Can we run now, Uncle War? Can we? Please?”

  “Noah Phelan Woolven, will you leave your Uncle War alone?” Emmie chided. “He’s trying to eat.”

  “Mama, is that a question or when you say it like a question, but I have to do it anyway?” Noah asked.

  War couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “I’m done eating, Emmie.” He hadn’t actually touched anything on the plate. He couldn’t get it down. The idea of running with young Noah was what his heart needed, but he didn’t trust himself. “But I’m sorry, little Alpha. I’m still recovering from my wounds. But soon, okay?”

  The disappointment in young Noah’s eyes quickly turned to compassion. “Can I help, Uncle War? What would an Alpha do?”

  This kid was going to be a magnificent Alpha. “Nothing at the moment. But it was right to ask.”

  Noah nodded solemnly and wandered over to the sugar fairy who slipped him a box of truffles. They were his favorite. In fact, he’d gotten in trouble a few times for launching himself into the display case in Gin’s shop and making quite the pig of himself. He was still learning self-control.

  As it seemed so was Warner himself.

  Mari’s hand was still
in his and he wanted to let go, to be an island unto himself, but he found he couldn’t. Something about her tiny hand in his massive paw and it reminded him of all that was good. It grounded him in the here and now.

  David Rutger, Randi’s father, was seated on the other side of him. He was slathered in a sunscreen of his own making that made it possible for him to walk in the sun without bursting into flames, which was always a good thing.

  Except he’d suddenly gone on alert. He stiffened and sniffed the air, his incisors elongated out of his mouth.

  War felt it too.

  It was like a siren’s song. It smelled fucking delicious.

  Something bad had come to Aphelion and he was afraid he was about to show his pack exactly what he’d brought back with him from the dark.

  Then Noah howled with delight. “Lennie! Aunt Lennie!” he screamed and darted for the figure who was walking up the hill.

  Dear Goddess, please don’t let it be the hunter that smells like food. Please don’t…

  Behind Lenore Breslin, two beings followed. One smelled like wolf and the other, Warner didn’t need a scent to identify.

  It was a thing that had crawled straight out of a human nightmare.

  He was the Watcher, the Guardian. A bone fairy named Kasadya. He wore the skulls of his enemies, his victims, like armor. Even on his wings. He was a giant, even compared to the Woolvens.

  On his back, he carried a pack and whatever smelled so delectable was inside that pack.

  Horror clawed at Warner’s awareness, but he refused to consider what he knew to be true. If he didn’t think it, if he didn’t acknowledge it… not speaking its name could keep it from becoming real.

  At least that’s what he told himself.

  Noah barreled at Lennie full speed and she caught him up in her arms and put him up on her shoulders and she continued to close the distance between her little hunting party and the Woolvens.

  Mari released his hand and went to stand with Gin. All of the women did. Randi, with her much swollen stomach, Emmie with her arms crossed and Mari, ready to defend Gin against the bone fairy. Except Gin didn’t hide behind her army of valkyries. She moved to the front. Warner could sense this bone fairy was different for her somehow. She wasn’t afraid of him. (She’d been kidnapped by them as a child and forced to use her power to hurt people. To rot teeth so the bone fairies could collect them and raise their strength and power.)

  Warner assumed it was probably because he’d gifted her with the heads of her enemies.

  The bone fairy, for his part, slowed his approach.

  War laughed. He’d seen this enough times to know what was going to happen. It had happened with Randi and Blake. Emmie and Drew. Even Belle and Parker.

  “What are you laughing at, Grey Tail?” Parker teased him.

  “Oh, you’ll see.”

  “Gin and… the scary bastard thing sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” Parker cackled.

  “Yeah.” Warner laughed.

  Their witch, Eleanor Westwood appeared with an armful of more BBQ and seemed to take no mind of the bone fairy or Lenore.

  Warner knew better.

  Their witch knew basically everything.

  As if she’d heard his thought, their eyes met over the long table and she nodded.

  We’ll talk later. She whispered in the back of his mind.

  Yeah, she’d know what to do.

  “Greetings, Woolvens! I return victorious.” There was a light, teasing tone to her voice, but it held an undercurrent of sadness and resignation.

  The group of women around Gin closed around Lenore, and Noah slipped from her shoulders and squirmed away from the crush. They held her close and it was almost as if they were working some kind of magic.

  Somehow, Lenore Breslin, one of the most feared, yet noble hunters had become part of their pack.

  Westwood eyed the bone fairy and Gin, before giving them some space.

  Well, fuck that.

  Warner got up and walked quietly over to stand behind Gin. He didn’t want to interfere, but he wanted her to know that he was behind her if she needed him. He also had to get closer to that pack.

  Kasadya acknowledged him and the unspoken boundaries with a nod.

  “You’ve returned.” Gin spoke first.

  “Yes, I have. I would’ve brought you more enemies to lay at your feet, but his bones are nothing. He is only meat.” Kasadya seemed to look right through Warner as he said this last.

  “This is good.” Gin’s voice was soft. “You are… not hurt?”

  “No, little one. I am not hurt.”

  “That’s good. Do you want to join us?”

  Warner could smell her fear, and her hope, and the proof of what he suspected: the sugar fairy had the hots for the “scary bastard,” as Parker called him.

  “I don’t eat as you do.”

  “What do you eat?” The smell of Gin’s fear spiked.

  “Bad things.” Again, Kasadya looked at him. As if acknowledging their sameness.

  Warner had never wanted to flee anything as much as he wanted to get away from the knowing in those otherworldly monster’s eyes.

  Because he didn’t want it to be true.

  “You can still sit with us. Rest after your long journey. Let us welcome you as a hero,” Gin said and turned to look at Westwood. Obviously, to make sure she hadn’t overstepped.

  Westwood nodded. “There is much still to discuss. Kasadya, whose gift is death, be welcome at our table.”

  He moved to sit down, but did not use a chair. His massive form would’ve crushed it to splinters. Instead, he sat on the grass and the sugar fairy sat next to him with her food.

  Then, the bone fairy removed his pack and held it out to Warner.

  “This is yours.”

  Warner knew in his bones that the words were true. Whatever was inside that pack, it belonged to him. His teeth had elongated in his mouth and the Change raged to take over, but Warner fought it back.

  With the pack in his arms, he struggled not to run, to fly away to the dark woods to be alone with whatever was inside.

  The scent was unlike anything he’d ever smelled. He’d only dreamed of it. His stomach rumbled and he couldn’t fight it any longer.

  He ran.

  He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. In the past, he’d been able to run as he Changed. It had been seamless, painless, and natural.

  There was nothing natural about what happened to him now.

  His bones were breaking to reshape. His body curled in on itself, twisted and cracked and pulsed. Even the wind on his skin that had once brought sweet relief was agony.

  He didn’t know what he looked like.

  He didn’t want to.

  Warner managed to drag himself to a distant cave where he completed the surrender to the darkness that began when he’d died.

  He arose something new.

  Something awful.

  Something that devoured what was inside that pack with a gluttonous, orgiastic glee.

  When Warner came back to himself, it was dusk and instead of lying of a cold cave floor, he was lying in Eleanor Westwood’s lap.

  She was singing and stroking his hair like she had when he was a pup.

  Warner did something then that he hadn’t done since he put Sterling and Arianna in the ground at Den Hollow Cemetery.

  He cried.

  She continued to pet him and to hum the tune that had rocked him to sleep as a pup.

  “Put me down,” he begged. “Put me down before I hurt them.”

  “You won’t hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it, Warner Woolven. I know you.”

  “How can you? I don’t know me. I’m something else now.”

  “I know, lovie.”

  “I ate what was in that bag. I ate him,” Warner confessed.

  “As you must. Nature requires balance. When the world is out of balance, she strives to make it right. You have always been a protector and that is what you will still be
. With the rise of this new threat to both humans and wolves, something just as horrible must rise to fight it. I’ve seen in the runes that a dark champion will be born.”

  “I can’t live like this. I’m no champion. I’m becoming a Berserker.”

  Berserkers were a horrible fate. Mad with bloodlust, they were nothing but killing machines with no hope, no light, no family, no pack. It was only about the blood. The meat. They were almost unstoppable.

  “Your pack needs you, Warner. Blake is waiting.”

  Warner Woolven pulled himself up out of the witch’s lap bloody on the outside and broken on the inside to answer the call of his pack one more time.

  2

  “We’ve got a serious fucking problem,” Blake said when Warner entered their war room.

  Warner would’ve laughed if not for the direness of the situation. His nephews sat around the table and they were all still munching on Gin’s sweets. Other faces were present as well. Tirigan, the ancient Sumerian vampire who’d helped them win the war. Parker’s father-in-law, if he wanted to get technical, Lenore, the wolf who’d come with her, and Westwood.

  His nephews each chewed with violent purpose and it amused him to no end.

  “I know, right?” Parker said, obviously knowing exactly what had War about to laugh.

  Blake narrowed his eyes. “Now is not the time.”

  “Oh, it’s never the time. Come on. I laughed when I was dying. I think I’m allowed to laugh now. You guys look so stupid. I mean, look at Drew. He’s making his serious face and chewing those cookies like it’s the worst thing he’s ever had to do and he just keeps shoving them in his face.” Parker ate another cookie.

  “Back to the serious fucking problem at hand?” Lenore prompted. “By the way, what did you do with Peter?”

  Bile rose in the back of his throat. “What do you mean?”

  But he knew damn good and well what she meant. It had been Peter’s boneless, still living remains in that pack.