Free Master of Smoke by Angela Knight Page A

powerfully built, with silver threading his black hair. Dressed in a tailored pin-striped gray suit with a red power tie, he looked like a bank CEO. Which was exactly what he was.
    He was also a very big, very nasty werewolf.
    None of which explained what the hell he was doing in here. Her parents had never let any male in her bedroom before.
    Miranda rolled off her bed and faced the two warily. “What’s this about, Mom?”
    Joelle licked her lips and pasted a too-bright smile on her face. “Randy, you remember Mr. Worthington—uh, Harold. He’s been a friend of the family for years.”
    “Yes, but he generally doesn’t make a habit of coming into my bedroom.” She met her mother’s gaze. “Especially not during my Burning Moon.”
    Worthington grinned at her. “Then I’d think you’d be glad to see me. Leave us alone, Joelle.” He gave the order without even looking at her mother.
    Joelle hesitated, her expression torn. “This is what your father wants, Miranda.”
    Oh, fuck. “What about what I want, Mother?”
    “That’s not even relevant, Miranda. Get out, Joelle.”
    “This isn’t your house, Harry ,” Randy spat. “You don’t tell my mother what to do in her own home.”
    “Miranda, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please!” Joelle turned and fled. The door banged closed behind her.
    So much for mother love.
    Randy stared at the older man coldly. Her heart was hammering, and she wanted to throw up, but she kept the fear and dread from her face. She’d perfected an expressionless mask before she could read. “If you think I’m going to sleep with you, you’re out of your mind.”
    “Do you really think you have any say in this?” He tossed his jacket on her bed and went to work on the gold cuff links fastening his French cuffs. “Warlock wants you pregnant, and I’m going to make sure he gets what he wants.”
    Yeah, that’s what she’d figured. “I’m not going to let you rape me, Harry.”
    He looked up from tucking his cuff links into his pants pocket. “You’re in your Burning Moon, my dear. It won’t be rape for long.”
    Some part of her growled in agreement—her wolf had been denied a lover for far too many years. She snarled denial at both the beast and Worthington. “Burning Moon or no Burning Moon, I choose who I sleep with. You’re twenty years older than I am, for God’s sake. You could be my father!”
    “But I’m not.” He coolly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a powerful chest covered in a thick mat of black hair. “If I were, I assure you, you’d be a lot better behaved.”
    She curled her hands into claws and glared at him. “I’ll fight you.”
    “And I’ll win.” He folded the shirt and put it aside, then began to unbuckle his belt.
    “Maybe.” Reckless rage curled her lips into a snarl. “And maybe I’ll make you hurt me too bad to give Warlock his grandson.”
    He gave her a supercilious smile that gradually faded as he realized she meant it. Then he snorted and tossed his belt aside. “You’re just a woman. You don’t have the guts.”
    “Try me.” Being Dire Wolf, she could heal virtually anything he did to her. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but she would survive.
    “You’d let an innocent baby die?”
    “That’s almost funny, coming from you. Anyway, it’s not a baby until you get me pregnant. And you’re not going to get me pregnant.” She started to reach for her magic ...
    “If you change, your mother pays.”
    Miranda froze, horror slicing through her fury. “What?”
    Worthington stared at her through eyes like icy slits. “If you fight me, I will beat your mother bloody.”
    She was going to be sick. Swallowing hard, Miranda forced a laugh. “You wouldn’t dare. My stepfather ...”
    “... Will entirely approve, if you have defied Warlock’s wishes.”
    Ice rolled over her from heels to hairline. He was right. Gerald Drake had been holding Joelle hostage for Miranda’s behavior since she’d hit