The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 4

He moved past her to open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of perfectly chilled beer. Twisting off the cap, he downed half of it in one swallow.

"I found that the secretary from the insurance claims company is staying late to burn the midnight oil with the janitor."

"Midnight oil?"

He smiled. "And that the loan officer is sleeping on the couch in his office. No doubt his wife kicked him out."

Her gaze lingered a tantalizing moment on his lips before she was visibly squaring her shoulders.

"Fascinating."

"That was just the first floor."

"Did you find any clues that might lead us to my stalker?"

"Nothing." He polished off the beer and tossed the bottle into the recycle bin. "Which means they're very, very good. Or very, very lucky."

"So you basically have jack squat?"

He ignored her taunt, moving until he could grasp the counter on either side of her hips, effectively trapping her.

He was going to get answers.

One way or another.

"Actually, I have a question."

She stiffened, her power swirling through the air. Oddly, however, she made no move to shove him away.

"Let me get this straight," she mocked instead. "You break into my house at an unG.o.dly hour. You help yourself to my private stash of imported beer. Now, having absolutely zero information for me, you expect me to play Twenty Questions." She tilted her chin. "And, for the true cherry topper, I'm supposed to pay you a weekly wage for the privilege?"

His gaze swept down to the delectable glimpse of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the red lace.

"Yeah, but I'll throw in the night of mind-blowing s.e.x for free."

He heard her heart miss a beat, the scent of her ready response more enticing than any perfume.

Still she held herself rigid, clearly as wary as he was by the potent force of their attraction.

"What's your question?" she asked huskily.

"Tell me what you're hiding from me."

Her eyes widened before she was hastily smoothing her expression.

"Hiding?" She lifted her brow, trying to brazen her way past his question. "What the h.e.l.l makes you think that I'm hiding something?"

"A pure-blooded Were doesn't hire a bodyguard just because she's being hara.s.sed."

The realization had struck him as he watched her flounce away from him in the stairwell. He'd started to halt her retreat then and there to demand an answer, but the rigid line of her spine had warned she wasn't in the mood to cooperate.

And in truth, he'd still been so cranked at being led around like a dunce by the mystery gunman that he knew he was bound to make matters worse if he tried to pry the truth from her.

Now he wasn't going to leave until he knew exactly what the h.e.l.l was going on.

"My son-in-law made me promise I wouldn't kill any of my neighbors the day I moved in." She tried to hold her ground. "He didn't say I couldn't hire someone else to kill for me."

"Dammit, Sophia, I can't help you if you're not honest with me," he snapped. "Tell me."

They glared at one another, the air filled with a sizzling heat as they both fought a silent battle for dominance.

At last Sophia muttered a curse, sensing his grim determination.

"The hara.s.sment has been annoying, but I would have ignored it if I hadn't started feeling like I was being hunted," she grudgingly confessed.

"Hunted." He latched on to the revealing word. "Not followed?"

A shadow darkened her beautiful eyes. "It's been more than some pervert lurking in the bushes and peering in my window."

"Explain."

"I can't." Her sharp tone didn't entirely disguise her unease. "I just know that there's been someone shadowing my movements for the past week. And there have been"-she turned her head to glance out the window, as if hoping to hide her expression-"incidents."

"What incidents?"

"One day I was crossing the street and I was nearly run over by a car. The next day I was jogging through the park and I was attacked by a rabid pit bull. Then, two days ago, I was nearly brained by a stone urn that fell from the top of a building I was walking past."

Luc's fingers tightened on the granite counter, his wolf enraged by the mere thought of someone terrorizing this female.

His female.

When he finally got his hands on the stalker, he was going to make the coward very, very sorry.

"Why didn't you tell me this from the beginning?" he demanded, his voice thick.

She turned back to stab him with a glare. "In case you missed the memo, I've been trying to get rid of you, not give you a reason to stay."

No, he'd gotten the memo.

His brooding gaze slid down to the sensuous curve of her mouth before returning to the emerald fire burning in her eyes.

"And you thought if I discovered someone's been trying to kill you instead of just hara.s.sing you that I would be more likely to stay?"

"Of course," she said, regarding him as if he were being particularly dense. "You're an alpha."

"True."

"Which means you turn into a caveman when you think there's a damsel in distress that might need your protection." Her gaze warned him not to even try to deny the truth of her words. "I don't blame you. It's all that testosterone rotting your brain."

As if being drawn by a magnet, his gaze returned to her lips, all too easily imagining the havoc they could wreak as they moved down his body.

"It does more than rot my brain. Do you want me to demonstrate?"

CHAPTER 3.

h.e.l.l, yeah.

She wanted him to demonstrate so badly she could barely breathe.

Which was exactly why she needed him gone.

Becoming involved with an alpha male was insanity under the best of circ.u.mstances.

Add in an unknown maniac trying to kill her, and her wolf's bizarre need to mark him so that every other female would know he was off-limits, and it became a recipe for disaster.

"See?" she accused as he stroked his lips over her cheek. "Caveman."

He s.h.i.+fted to nip the lobe of her ear. "There are benefits."

Oh ... Christ.

She could already feel the benefits. They were melting through her body, making her knees weak and her hips press with restless need against the hard thrust of his growing erection.

In a minute she was going to rip off his clothes and push him onto the ceramic tiles.

Or maybe onto the breakfast table.

She wasn't particular so long as it was hot and sweaty and lasted until she was too sated to move.

Vivid images of straddling that bronzed, perfect body had her abruptly shoving him away so she could head for the door.

"It's late, go away," she muttered, ignoring her wolf, which snarled in frustration.

She didn't truly expect him to obey her order. Luc was a Were who would do what he wanted, when he wanted. But she hadn't expected him to actually sweep her off her feet, cradling her against his magnificent chest as he headed toward the nearby stairs.

"What the h.e.l.l?" she rasped.

"You're right. It's late." He smiled down at her furious expression. "You should be in bed."

A jolt of white-hot excitement speared through her.

Dammit.

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you think I won't hurt you?"

"I'm your bodyguard." With astonis.h.i.+ng ease he carried up the curved steps and down the hall to enter her bedroom. He never paused as he crossed the silver carpet that accented the black and white decor. At last reaching the ebony slipper bed, he laid her on the white and black striped comforter and straightened to study her with a hooded gaze. "It's my duty to tuck you in."

She pushed herself into a seated position, leaning against the pile of silver pillows.

"Your duty?"

The dark eyes ran a hungry survey down the length of her body, his own body tense as he struggled to leash the desire pulsing in the air.

"There might be a bit of pleasure mixed in."

She s.h.i.+vered. Not only from the rough edge in his voice that warned he was holding on by a thread, but by the possessive glow in those dark eyes.

"I'm not getting rid of you, am I?" she breathed.

"Do you want to?"

"I don't like Neanderthals."

"I can be as sensitive as the next guy." His gaze s.h.i.+fted to the expanse of pale skin exposed by her tiny camisole. "With the proper motivation."

She could physically feel the heat of his gaze, caressing over her with a searing pleasure.

Dammit, why couldn't he be just another stunningly hot guy whom she could use and abuse and toss aside when she was done?

"You're going to try to boss me around," she accused in frustration, "telling me what I can and can't do-"

"I'm going to keep you alive," he interrupted.

"I won't be caged." She shook her head. "Not again."

She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her lips, abruptly turning to study the original Rembrandt etchings that hung on her wall.

"Sophia." She felt the mattress dip beneath Luc's considerable weight as he perched on the edge of the bed. When she refused to acknowledge his presence, he reached to cup her cheek in his hand and tugged her to meet his searching gaze. "Talk to me."

"You've done your duty, now leave me alone," she snapped.

His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Sophia."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me why you think I would try to cage you."

She gave a restless lift of her shoulder. "It's just an expression."

"It's more than that," he stubbornly insisted. "Tell me."

"Luc."