Claimed by Drago Wolf (Magnificent Beasts Book 1)

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  from the author except in the case of brief quotations

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  Publisher’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction,

  the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to real persons or events is

  coincidental.

  Copyright May 2019 – Ana Calin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER I

  Drago

  Damn door. Creaks like an old witch’s bones. Wonder why we even need all the alarms.

  I walk inside the dark living room and throw off my jacket, the sticky serpent blood tightening on my chest and arms as I move towards the liquor cabinet.

  “You can turn on the lights now, Nero,” I say as I pour brandy. “I know you’re lurking.”

  “You can’t go on fighting serpents in the underground,” Nero decrees, emerging from the darkness. “One of these days you’ll run into one bigger and badder than you.”

  “Maybe bigger, but there’s no one badder than Drago Wolf.” Hercules walks in, turning on the mock-fire in the fireplace. Soon the whole room is bathed in the warm light. “How did you send this one on his way?”

  “Ripped his heart out.”

  “Sweet.”

  I plop onto the leather couch, exposing my blood-streaked body to the fireplace, tumbler in my hand.

  Nero strides over, blocking out the light. He is the head of our pack, our big brother, and he has a crushing presence, even though both Hercules and Conan are double his size. But it’s Achilles and me he feels he needs to rein in, his rebellious, revenge-thirsty younger brothers.

  “You have to stop challenging serpent shifters, Drago,” he commands. “One of these days The Reaper’s going to send a serpent wraith, or come himself, and then what?”

  “Been praying on it for years.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” Nero tears the tumbler from my hand, and bangs it on the coffee table.

  “If you’re gonna give me a sermon, save your breath,” I grunt.

  “I won’t let you go on with this madness. It’s suicide. Sooner or later—”

  “Sooner or later I’m gonna find The Reaper, and slide his scythe right across his serpent throat.”

  “Listen, Drago, dude,” Hercules chimes in. “You know I’m on your side. You’ve killed more serpents these past few years than any other werewolf, but you’re growing reckless. The Reaper already knows too much about you. He might have even put a price on your head, because you’re really bad for his business.”

  My fist clenches, dried blood cracking on my knuckles. “If I take down all of his slimy minions, he’s gonna run out eventually. He’ll have to face me in the end, because he’ll have no one to send for my head.”

  “This Spartan strategy is only going to deplete you before you get to face him,” Nero insists. “Our muscles and claws won’t be enough, we have to fight with our heads.”

  I lean forward with elbows on my knees, defying him.

  “And where did your head-driven strategy lead us so far, huh? You’ve been searching for The Reaper for hundreds of years with no result.”

  “Maybe, but your tracking down serpents disguised as humans, and challenging them to illegal underground fights isn’t a solution either.”

  “I do what we should all be doing.” I hold my bloody knuckles in Nero’s face. “I beat them to a pulp, then tear them open with my claws, and rip out their throats with my fangs. And when their blood touches my tongue, I feel like I’m avenging Ma and Pa. Too bad that satisfaction doesn’t last beyond the taste of slimy serpent blood. Only when I have killed every last one of them I’ll have true satisfaction.”

  “We all want revenge as badly as you do, Drago,” Nero says. “But this isn’t the way.”

  My phone buzzes. A welcome distraction. I break Nero’s wolfish golden stare, and hitch the cell from my pocket. Sure enough, it’s a new booking.

  Banging women for money started out as a means to recharge the beast, but it became a lucrative thing in the end. Not that I need the money, I have more than I need from the family business and the fighting bets, but I need the release. No strings attached, no emotional involvement, and I’m not getting anyone’s hopes high in the process either. The ladies get what they’re paying for, never longer than one night, and everyone’s happy. I never hang around long enough for any of them to develop more than a crush on me.

  I push myself off the couch and grab my leather jacket, turning my back to my brothers.

  “Gotta take a shower.”

  Arianna

  ONE GLANCE AT HIS PROFILE, and I slap a hand on my chest.

  “Really? This guy?” I glance around, covering the display with my free hand. As the most respected ladies in town we always get a table in the back, away from the bustling patrons around, but still. This is the most crowded pub in town, there are people everywhere.

  “You and Princess got me an MMA fighter slash male escort for my birthday?” I hiss through my teeth.

  “Cage fighter,” Janine rectifies. “Illegal fights, underground.” She winks at Princess, and sips elegantly from her Pinot Noir.

  “How does someone like you even know such a guy?”

  “A lady brought him to my hotel in the woods,” she says secretively. Princess leans in, too, her lollypop rosy lips wrapped around the cocktail straw, her eyes big with curiosity.

  “Middle-aged, good-looking woman in a business kind of way, designer coat and handbag, bribed me for my silence, while he... Well, you saw him.” Her cobalt gaze darkens. “Muscles, tattooed arms, big fists, smoldering hot stare. The sounds that came out of their room, I tell you.”

  “I can tell the memory is enough to make you hot.” I try not to imagine that beast’s muscular body over the woman, it’s been a while for me, too. “Maybe you should book him for yourself.”

  “Tomorrow’s not my birthday, it’s yours.” She cocks an eyebrow. “But you can book me someone like him next year. He must have friends he can recommend.”

  “But how did you contact him afterwards? I can’t imagine he left you a business card?”

  “I asked his client about him when she checked out. I mean, it’s not like she was hiding it from me. I said that, as a business woman myself, I don’t have time for a relationship, but I could use this kind of entertainment once in a while.” Her cobalt blue eyes fill with her signature sassiness I know so well, and that I love so much about her. “The secret one night stands on city breaks are getting dangerous, the Council could find out, so.”

  “We will take the secret to the grave,” Princess says to me, cocking a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Just like you take all of ours.”

  Janine bends over her smartphone that lies between us on the table, licking her lips as she swipes over his pictures.

  “We’re starting to draw attention,” I whisper, glancing around.

  “Oh, fuck them,” Janine dismisses.

  “Unfortunately, I depend on their good opinion of me,” I remind her, leaning back from her an
d the cell. “So thank you for this fabulous gift idea, but I’ll have to pass.”

  “Oh, don’t be a such a chicken,” Princess chimes in. “I mean, have you ever even touched a guy like that in real life? He sure is another league than your ex, Mr. Mayor. Isn’t he worth the risk?”

  “You’re right, Princess, I’ve never touched a guy like that in real life, and that’s fine. Guys like him are like heroin. What if one taste of him isn’t enough, what if I become hooked?”

  Janine laughs, glass of Pinot Noir in her hand, her perfect business class white-blonde bob shimmering around her head.

  “I can’t believe you actually just compared men to drugs,” she mocks. “You sound like a girl who’s never stepped outside the borders of her village. You sound, I don’t know, Amish.”

  “But don’t forget that she was educated in Paris,” Princess puts in, a grin stretching her plump rosy lips. “Problem is, while the rest of us banged bikers on city breaks, she was taking piano lessons or learning dead languages. Am I right, Miss Aristocrat?”

  Both she and Janine giggle. I can’t help but smile, because they’re right. The three of us have known each other since we were toddlers, and if anyone knows exactly what I’m made of, it’s these two works of art. We were all born here, in Darkwood Falls, and even though later life separated us, taking Janine to business school in New York, me to Art School in Paris, and only Princess stayed here, we kept in touch.

  Janine and I secretly pity Princess because of her overprotective mother, who basically destroyed her life. Mrs. Skye argued her family was rich enough to support five generations lavishly, and she never saw a reason for her daughter to attend anything beyond the mall, the beauty parlor and the gym. Princess was home schooled with private tutors—if they happened to be male, she’d sleep with them, even if they were double her age; she also secretly sleeps with tourists who come to Darkwood Falls, simply because they’re outsiders, and the Council forbids it for women coming from the town’s wealthy families. Nobody understands this rule, but we all have to live by it, or else. Dad used to say there is an ancient reason behind it, and we should never break the rule, but sadly he died before he could tell me.

  One day Princess’s rebellion against her parents got out of control, and she demanded independence. Her mother faked illness, so her daughter wouldn’t leave Darkwood Falls. That’s when her dad found the perfect solution—he secured her a job at City Hall, as secretary to my cheating ex, Sullivan Haan. The mayor. She still works there.

  “Now that I think about it,” Janine says. “You might not even know what to do with a guy like Drago Wolf. Maybe you should watch some porn tonight to get you into gear.”

  “Drago Wolf.” I snort, taking the glass of wine to my mouth. “Is that even his real name?”

  “No idea, but the name sure fits his looks, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Look, there are two fan accounts for him,” Princess interjects.

  I look down at her smartphone as she scrolls down the fans’ pictures of him. There’s Drago Wolf fighting in a cage, muscles flexed dangerously, his fist like a hammer as it heads directly into his opponent’s face. His opponent is much bigger, but the post says Drago won. Badass tattoos wrap around his bicep, and the side of his face reveals his strong jawline.

  “Fabulous bone structure,” Janine raves.

  Jesus, I could be sleeping with this guy tomorrow night. I shake my head, casting the idea away before it nestles into a corner of my mind and grows like fucking ivy.

  “No way I’m doing this, Janine.”

  “Cut the crap,” she grunts. “Don’t forget what Lord Henry said in Dorian Grey—at the end of the day, the only things we don’t regret in our lives are our mistakes. It was one of your favorite quotes, wasn’t it?”

  “Once, yes. But now I’m a grown woman, and I have to take more than just myself into account. My strongest investors are locals, and if they find out I’ve done something like this, they’ll pull their money from the research labs Dad left to me. Those labs are his legacy, and they’re curing deadly diseases, I can’t let them die. You can have Drago Wolf, Janine, so your guys’ money won’t be wasted.”

  “Nobody is going to find out,” Princess says quietly, squeezing my shoulder in reassurance. “Only the three of us would know. Besides, even if it does ever come out, Janine and I will cover you no matter what. You always cover for us, too.” She smirks, and I can’t help but do it, too. Our secrets unite us like glue.

  “Listen, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your guys’ gift, I mean it really is an original and outrageous idea, but—”

  “Original and outrageous, yeah.” Janine raises her glass to that, and downs her Pinot Noir.

  “But really, why can’t I just get a dildo, like all single ladies?”

  “Oh, please, everyone gets a dildo. But we’re gonna make your thirtieth special.” Janine’s gaze fills with sassiness. “Come on, you know you want this. Just imagine—”

  “I am imagining it, and that’s the problem.” I glance around and lean in again. Janine and Princess do the same. “I’m not just being ungrateful here, there are so many reasons why I can’t do it. First of all, he looks like a Greek god, while I’m—” I motion discreetly to myself.

  “Sorry, babe,” Janine says, “but you’re wearing a dress that reminds me of a French governess, so I can’t see much of your body. No idea what you’re trying to point out.”

  “It doesn’t even matter what she’s trying to point out. I saw her at the Y last week,” Princess puts in. “She has an amazing body.”

  “I’m curvy, curvy isn’t amazing,” I react. “Besides, my arms are flabby, and my ass wobbles,” I complain. But they’ll have none of it. Princess waves my arguments away.

  “You’ve got a full ass and perky tits, and that’s what matters. Come on, Arianna, why do you think Sullivan stayed with you for so many years? He’s the mayor, and stinking rich. He could have had any chick he wanted, but he preferred you.”

  My mouth sucks lemon. “He preferred me until he didn’t. He cheated on me with her, didn’t he?” I jerk my head in the direction of Christie, the barmaid. Her tits sway in her low cut shirt as she wipes the counter, smiling up seductively with her full lips at every guy who pays her a compliment. Not that I judge her. Every smile can mean a fat tip, and she needs the money. She wasn’t born rich, like the rest of us. Which also means she can date outsiders, making us jealous as fuck.

  “Now that I think about it,” Janine says, her white-blonde eyebrows scrunched in a frown. “You could learn a thing or two from Christie. Like, for example, what a girl should wear for a date.”

  “Are you saying I deserved to be cheated on for not wearing the right thing?”

  “I’m saying next time you should be extra careful with the wrapping,” Janine counters. “You’re a beautiful, mouthwatering woman, really, you are. But it’s like you’re doing your best to hide that, while women like Christie, well, they make the best out of what Mother Nature gave them.”

  I push the glasses up my nose, masking the way I measure Christie up and down. I imagine myself wearing a black shiny tank top with a push up bra underneath, like her, but when I imagine the rest of her....

  “She’s dressed like a hooker,” I grunt. “She shows as much chest as she shows legs, there’s no finesse in her, no—”

  “Oh, boy.” Princess can barely keep from rolling her eyes. I know her well enough to see that. “I agree that you should keep it in good taste, but still, that sack-like thing you’re wearing isn’t gonna get any guy’s cock up, no matter the label.” She slips her cell into her own designer handbag. “Come on, we’re going to the mall. This time, I decide what you wear.”

  “No way.” I shake my head. “No offense, but I can’t imagine myself wearing anything in your style any more than in Christie’s.” I mean, Princess has feathers sticking out of her red hair, and a leather corset. She doesn’t just stand out, she soars.

  Princes
s laughs, and signals to Christie that we want the check. “I may not have learned business in NYC like Janine, or Art in Paris, like you, but I learned fashion from the greatest catwalks with my mother. I know what you need, Miss Aristocrat, and trust me—it will combine elegance with sexiness. And it will give the callboy one hell of a boner. Put your trust in me, and the night he spends with you will be the highlight of his life.”

  I’d thought myself smarter, but I like the sound of that. I hide it as well I can behind a stony face, but I’m already reaching for my bag, ready to go.

  Arianna

  I DOWN THE SECOND COCKTAIL, and it’s on an empty stomach.

  “Easy with those, or you’ll be wobbly on your feet before you even grab his cock.” Janine laughs.

  We’re at one of her hotels up the mountainside, deep in the forest. It’s her smallest one, and still in renovation, so there are no guests. Just the three of us, hovering in the lounge, the perfect place to do something outrageous that no one will ever find out about. Or so we think.

  I glance at the huge wooden clock on the sidewall, my heart pounding, then look down at myself again as I sit on the lounge sofa. Princess sure has wicked taste. I’m wearing a black spandex outfit with zippers at the level of my tits and between my legs, making me look like Cat Woman at a swinger club.

  “Nothing turns a man on more than a bad girl in spandex,” she says with a wink.

  “Oh, God.” I take another gulp of my cocktail.

  “I must say, Princess, you’re the queen of bad girl fashion,” Janine says, clinking her glass to Princess’s.

  I want to say something, too, but I’m choking on my own anticipation. Good God, I haven’t felt like this since, hell, since my boy band crush back when I was twelve.

  “The guy can simply unzip the parts of you that interest him, and fuck you thoroughly,” Janine drawls, already tipsy.

  Princess inspects me from head to toes appreciatively. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this magnificent body for so fucking long. Does Sullivan even know what he’s missing?”