Draeger Legacy

Chapter One
Hanging lights broke through the darkness of the night. A band played soft music and shifters both male and female danced and talked, reacquainted themselves with old friends and new. It was a special party, one that eighteen-year-old Natasha Millard was determined to enjoy.

Finally, she was able to join in the special parties her father held. Finally, she was allowed to dress up and come out of her room to drink the sweet wine and sample the fine pastries. And yet, even thought she was of age, her father still made it very clear that she was not to engage in conversation with the males unless her nanny stood next to her.

Ah, her nanny. Just the thought of that bitter old woman following her around, keeping her cold icy eyes on Natasha’s every move had her wanting to sigh and return to her room. The old woman just refused to let her have any fun. Always harping about the place of a lady such as herself. Hell, this was the modern days, not the old days where you had the coming out balls and chaperons everywhere you went. Yet, that was how her father still treated her. At eighteen, she still had to have her nanny on her heels, guarding her.

“You drink too much of that, then you’ll be a silly as the rest of them.” As usual, Elli Piper, her nanny and faithful lap dog to her father, took the wine glass from her hand before she could take a sip of the refreshing drink. “A lady never—”

“Yes, I know,” Natasha snapped, turning on the woman. “A lady never drinks, talks to people she doesn’t know and shuts up in a corner until someone might notice her.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, narrowing her eyes on her. “I’ve heard it all before and so many times I’m sick of hearing it. Elli, I’m eighteen. I think I can have a drink at my father’s party.”

Elli smiled. A chilling sight with all the wrinkles on her face and the coldness in her gray eyes. The way she looked, Natasha wondered if the woman was ever pretty or always a fright for sore eyes.

At five-three, Elli had a slight hunch to her back. She always had her salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, pulling the sides of her wrinkled face back. Sometimes her hair was so tight her eyes would slit, and those were the days Natasha really worked at staying away from her. Just because, every time she saw her she would start to laugh.

Oval shape face, thin lips, it was a wonder at times how she became a nanny in the first place. Natasha swore that it was the only thing she could do since she appeared so drab in the black dresses she wore.

“Oh, so you think just because you’re eighteen that you can drink and flop around with whomever you please?” Her shrill voice had Natasha rolling her eyes. At one time, she would’ve cringed at the sound, but tonight it just irritated the hell out of her. “Not on my watch. You’re a lady and you’re going to stay one until your father sees fit for you to mate.”

“I doubt that day will ever come, thank you very much.” She took the glass back out of her hand, drinking a large amount of the liquid.

“Never doubt a thing, young lady,” once more her glass was taken from her hands, but this time it was by her father. “And Elli is right. You shouldn’t be drinking. You’re still too young.”

Philip Millard glared hard at Natasha. She instantly lowered her eyes to the ground, hands fisted into the long cream silk of her dress. As always, her father could make her feel like a small child with a glare—his show of disapproval.

Her father just turned fifty and still he moved like a shifter of youth. He stood at six foot even, built strong, tough, and carried himself as a man who silently demanded respect. His thick black hair only recently showed a hint of his age. Specks of gray touched the sides and a few wrinkles around the eyes. Besides that, her father still looked like he was in his thirties.

“If you didn’t want me to at least enjoy myself, why did you bring me home?” she asked, holding back her anger. For the past three years, she spent away from home in a boarding school, only coming home for weekends and holiday. And then she was guarded by her childhood nanny.

“Not now, Natasha,” he snapped, causing her to jump at the sharpness of his tone. “We’ll discuss this later.”

She looked up at him. Pain deep inside her chest hit, just as it always did when he brushed her aside. “It’s funny how each time you push me away it always feels like the first. You think by now I would be use to it.”

She brushed away from him quickly, leaving her father to stand with her nanny. With each step she took, she kept telling herself not to cry. To cry would be to show weakness, and weakness was never tolerated. But how could she not cry when she was once again brought home for a fancy party only for her father to show his friends what a perfect little home he had.

Bullshit!