The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 7

"You aren't really going to serve apple martinis, are you?" he demanded, moving to stand way too close.

"How am I supposed to explain your presence?" she abruptly demanded.

"I'm your latest lover, of course."

She snorted at his ready suggestion. "You could be my brother. Or the pool boy."

His hand lifted to skim along her hairline, following the curve of her ear.

"I'm not nearly pretty enough to be the pool boy, and we don't want to shock the natives if I happen to do this in front of them."

A part of her knew a kiss was coming. She also knew she could halt it by taking a simple step backward. Instead she tilted back her head to meet his descending mouth, her lips parting in invitation to the deep, hungry kiss.

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips as their tongues tangled in a silent dance of mutual need.

An enthralling pleasure blasted through her, making her arch against his hardening c.o.c.k as her hands ran a restless path over his powerful back.

He was so deliciously warm.

And male.

Starkly, unapologetically male.

The kiss deepened as she rubbed her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his bare chest, her blood on fire with the need to feel him plunging deep inside her body.

As if sensing her desperate desire, his hands skimmed up the curve of her waist, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to tease her sensitive nipples with his thumbs.

She growled her approval, arching toward his insistent caresses as her hands slid beneath the satin boxers to cup the hard muscles of his perfect a.s.s.

Laughing softly he nipped at her lower lip before whispering against her mouth.

"This isn't at all brotherly."

Busy thanking the G.o.ds that she wasn't related to this intensely s.e.xy Were, Sophia was taken off guard as a brick was tossed through the window over the sink.

They both stiffened in shock, but Luc swiftly recovered and was immediately out of her arms and sprinting toward the French doors leading onto the back patio.

Sophia felt a brief flare of fear at the realization he was unarmed as he charged after the trespa.s.ser only to grimace as the backlash of his power sizzled through the air. Even without s.h.i.+fting there were few demons who could match his strength.

And if he went wolf ...

Well, she pitied anyone stupid enough to stand in his path.

Of course, a silver bullet could bring down the mightiest Were, an anxious voice whispered in the back of her mind.

A voice she hastily squashed.

Luc could take care of himself. She refused to even consider the thought of him being hurt.

Clenching her hands, she turned her attention toward the shards of gla.s.s littered across her floor.

Dammit to h.e.l.l.

What was it with people busting her windows lately?

They were not only a pain in the a.s.s to replace, but they left a mess that she was in no mood to clean.

Picking her way over the glittering shards, Sophia reached to pluck the brick from the sink, not at all surprised to find a note scribbled on the back.

"Leave or die."

Predictable. Tacky. And downright cliche.

Tossing the brick onto the countertop, she moved to retrieve a broom, sweeping up the broken gla.s.s and dumping it in the trash.

She'd just finished when Luc returned, his eyes glowing with the fury of his wolf.

"Anything?" she demanded, although she already knew the answer.

"No," he growled, his frustration thickening the air until it was difficult to breathe. "Whoever threw the brick had already taken off, and there are too many scents to pick out a specific person." His jaw knotted as he struggled to leash his emotions. "I do know it wasn't a human."

"How?"

He moved to pick up the brick, testing its weight as his gaze skimmed the words of warning.

"Unlike a demon, they would have to be standing in your yard to pitch this through the window. There's no way they could have escaped before I could catch them."

She nodded in agreement. "Then that narrows down the options."

"Not far enough."

Sensing his self-disgust, Sophia frowned. "What is it?"

"There's something off," he growled.

"Off?"

"If someone genuinely wants you dead they don't warn you," he muttered, throwing the brick into the trash.

He was right. She was trained well enough to know that the best a.s.sa.s.sin was the one who moved through the shadows and struck before their prey ever sensed the danger.

"The gunshot was genuine enough," she pointed out, sharing his confusion.

"So was the bullet."

"Yeah, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d ruined my desk."

"I went back to dig it out." His expression was grim. "It was silver."

She s.h.i.+vered. "I suppose crazy doesn't always make sense."

He looked like he wanted to bite something.

Hard.

"What are your plans for the day?" he abruptly demanded.

She shrugged. "A few hours by the pool and then off to the club."

"I'm calling a security firm to install your alarm system." He prowled toward the door. "Don't leave without me."

Ignoring the crowd of drunken females who screeched in wild abandon at the male Were gyrating on the stage, Luc leaned against the carved oak bar and sipped his Cognac.

No one would blame him for being in a foul mood.

Not only was he no closer to discovering who was trying to harm Sophia, but he was so tormented by his raging l.u.s.t he could barely think.

Mierda.

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Get in, fix the problem, and get out.

That's what he did.

He fixed problems.

But from the instant he'd caught sight of Sophia, the job had gone from simple to simply insane.

Proving his point, his gaze skimmed over the mingling crowd, landing with unerring accuracy on the golden-haired female who was responsible for his current discomfort.

She looked exquisitely elegant in a silky ivory pantsuit.

The jacket was perfectly tailored to her slender frame, the plunging vee neckline revealing the lush curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The pants clung to her long legs before flaring above a pair of three-inch heels.

Her pale hair was pulled into a smooth knot at the back of her head, the style perfectly designed to rouse his wolf into a near frenzy as he pictured his lips and teeth nuzzling down the length of her neck.

Wondering what she would do if he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for her office, Luc's pleasant imaginings were interrupted as he watched a red-haired imp move to stand beside Sophia.

The tall fey looked a bit like Troy, but his hair was cut short and his far more bulky frame was covered by a black Armani suit instead of spandex. A smile touched his handsome face as he bent down to whisper something in Sophia's ear.

A growl trickled from Luc's throat as his fingers clutched the gla.s.s he was holding until it shattered.

Ignoring the Cognac that spilled over his hand, Luc prowled forward, his gaze locked on the fey who appeared unaware he was toying with death.

The crowd parted before him, the females giving tiny gasps of nervous excitement as they avidly watched him cross the room. He was indifferent to the stir of interest caused by his tight T-s.h.i.+rt and black slacks and the fluid grace of his movements.

He had only one thought in his mind.

Halting directly behind Sophia, he reached around her just as the fey was intending to take her hand. He grabbed the fool's wrist, barely repressing his urge to crush the bones beneath his fingers.

"Touch her and I'll make certain you never use that hand again," he warned, his voice thick with his wolf.

"s.h.i.+t." Pale green eyes widened as the imp regarded him with a startled alarm. "Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Luc."

"You work here?"

Releasing his grip on the imp, Luc wrapped his arm possessively around Sophia's waist, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"My only job is pleasing Sophia."

Holding herself rigid, Sophia covered his hand with hers, covertly allowing her claws to dig into his flesh.

A tiny warning that she wasn't pleased by his public claim.

"We'll finish our discussion tomorrow, Andrew," she smoothly promised the wary imp. "My office?"

"Four o'clock," the fey murmured, cautiously waiting for Luc's tiny nod of agreement before backing away and disappearing into the crowd.

Smart imp.

He obviously had enough sense not to p.i.s.s off a Were. Especially not one in heat.

Of course, a female Were was equally perilous.

Tugging out of his grasp, Sophia turned to stab him with a furious glare.

"Are you demented?" she hissed.

"Odd." His lips twisted. "That question has been running through my mind with growing frequency." He nodded toward the fleeing imp. "Who was that?"

"My liquor distributor, who was giving me a very sweet deal until you came stomping over here like Conan the Barbarian," she rasped. "What were you doing?"

Ah, now that was a loaded question.

For the past centuries Weres hadn't been jealous creatures. The overriding need to produce children had destroyed the instinct to find that one special companion.

Was it any wonder he was as baffled as Sophia by his urgent desire to make certain that every male in Chicago understood this woman was his property?

"Have you considered the fact that you opened this club at the same time you moved into your new house?" he hastily improvised.

"So?"

He waved a hand toward the stage where yet another overly pretty Were was stripping off his clothes.

"So your mysterious stalker might be someone you met here."