Luc was a typical male Were.
Warm-blooded, fully functioning, and possessing a fine appreciation for the opposite sex.
Tonight, however, he had to clench his teeth against the soft female hands that took every opportunity to touch his exposed skin and the plethora of boobs waggled beneath his nose.
There was only one woman he wanted touching his body or offering him the temptation of her firm, delectable breasts.
The knowledge should have sent him howling into the night in terror.
But if the past few days had taught him nothing else, it was that it was far too late to avoid his obsessive need for Sophia.
Even when he was miles away from Chicago she consumed his thoughts, the overriding need to return to her side a nagging ache that couldn’t be denied. And when she was near ...
Dios.
Pretending indifference to disguise his acute awareness of the female Were, not to mention his savage need to haul her nearly naked body away from the gawking male guests, Luc covertly monitored her every movement.
Which was why he knew the second the nymph approached her.
Tensing, he battled back his instinct to rush to Sophia’s side. He didn’t have to overhear their words to know that Sophia was in charge of the heated exchange, or to suspect that she was managing to bully information from the nymph.
A fact confirmed when Victoria crossed the terrace to grasp her lover’s arm and with nervous glances toward Sophia urged him across the lawn toward the side gate.
Clearly, Sophia was more than capable of holding her own. At least when the enemy was face-to-face.
But when she turned to enter the house through the French doors, without so much as a glance in his direction, he could no longer deny his primitive male urges.
Nothing like the sight of his prey attempting to escape to send a predator into a frenzy.
Nearly bowling down the gaggle of females leaning against his lounge chair, Luc was on his feet and following in Sophia’s wake. He didn’t give a damn about the cries of protest. The only thing that mattered was getting to the female who had him so twisted in knots he couldn’t think straight.
He caught up with her as she crossed the shadowed kitchen, moving with a burst of speed to block her path.
“What did you discover?” he demanded.
She came to a grudging halt, her hands on her hips. “How do you know I discovered anything?”
“You were looking very chummy with the nymph. I doubt you were exchanging recipes.”
Emerald fire sparked in her eyes. “Is that an insult of my cooking abilities?”
His lips twitched as he recalled coming home last evening to find Sophia waiting for him at the table, her expectant expression revealing her pride in the hideous creation steaming on his plate.
It was a testament to his devotion to her that he’d managed to choke down more than two spoonfuls.
“Cara, I’ve eaten raw slug demons that tasted better than your meat loaf.”
Her power slammed into him, nearly sending him reeling backwards.
“It was salmon loaf, and since I never wanted to cook for you in the first place I hope it gives you food poisoning.”
“I think it very nearly did.” He did a hasty sidestep as she attempted to circle past him. “Where are you going?”
Her jaw tightened. “To bed.”
He hissed, his body reacting with violent excitement to her simple statement.
It wasn’t helping matters that he’d spent the past four hours imagining how easy it would be to slice through the strings holding together her tiny excuse for a swimsuit.
Suddenly his Speedo was painfully tight.
“At this hour?”
“I’m tired.”
Tired? Mierda. He had never felt more juiced in his life. As if his entire body was buzzing with electric anticipation.
He stepped closer, his wolf relishing the warm scent of woman and power.
Until Sophia he’d never noticed whether a female could match his strength. So long as she was attractive and intelligent enough to hold his interest outside of bed he considered it a good relationship.
Now, he found his wolf preening at the knowledge this female was capable of holding her own.
Even against him.
His fingers lifted to grasp a strand of pale gold hair, savoring the feel of the silky softness.
“You still have guests.”
“They aren’t waiting around for my company,” she said, the bite in her voice unmistakable. “Just try to keep the noise down. We don’t want to be busted by the neighborhood watch.”
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Why, Sophia. Are you jealous?”
Holding herself rigid, she met his teasing gaze. “I’m a Were.”
“And?”
“And we don’t get jealous.”
His humorless laugh echoed through the kitchen. “If that were true then I wouldn’t have waited outside your club for that damned imp to show up just so I could make it clear he wasn’t to so much as smile at you during your meeting.”
She blinked in surprise at his blunt confession. As she should. He’d felt like a dork waiting for the imp to make his scheduled appointment with Sophia and then accosting him as if he were some lethal assassin instead of a harmless liquor distributor.
Of course that didn’t stop him.
He’d been compelled to make sure the fey understood that Sophia belonged to him.
“I wondered why Andrew looked like he’d just swallowed his tongue,” she muttered.
“He was lucky he still had a tongue after I watched him whispering sweet nothings in your ear,” he said dryly.
She sniffed, folding her arms over her chest. “At least he wasn’t groping me like an octopus.”
Ah. She was jealous.
Thank God.
“Are you referring to Kirsten?” he asked in an overly innocent tone.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never cared for cold-blooded leeches, but to each his own I guess.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Not giving her time to react, Luc scooped Sophia off her feet and headed out of the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
She frowned, but astonishingly she made no effort to struggle out of his grasp. Or even to rip out his throat.
Progress.
“We need to talk.”
“Then talk,” she muttered.
He crossed the foyer and easily jogged up the curved staircase, using the excuse to press her tight against his chest.
“In private.”
“What about your groupies?”
“They’ll eventually find easier game.” He held her petulant gaze, not bothering to hide his smoldering desire. “This one’s already been bagged and tagged.”
She licked her lips as he stepped into her bedroom and kicked shut the door behind them.
“Luc.”
Still holding her gaze, which was now wary, he gently set her on her feet in the middle of the room, his hands resting on her nicely rounded hips.
“We won’t be interrupted here.”
She arched a brow. “And that’s the only reason you chose my bedroom?”
His grip tightened on her hips, his already hardened cock throbbing with an eager plea for attention, but with an effort he forced himself to concentrate on business before pleasure.
Later ...
Oh, the things he intended to do.
“Tell me what you learned from the nymph.”
Her lips thinned at his commanding tone, but she wasn’t a fool. She had to sense he was hanging on by a thread.
As if his raging erection didn’t give it away.
“She was the one harassing me.”
“You’re sure?”
“She’s not the brightest bulb,” she said dryly. “With a little prompting she confessed to writing the notes and leaving dead animals and slashing my tires. Oh, and throwing the brick through my window.” She made a sound of disgust. “Bitch.”
He nodded. He’d pegged the nymph for the childish pranks, but it was nice to have it confirmed.
“And the attempts on your life?”
“She was clueless.”
“You believe her?”
“Yes.” She nodded without hesitation. “She might be a flake, but she’s not bloodthirsty enough to try to kill me.”
“So there are two separate enemies.” Luc felt a piece of the aggravating puzzle slide into place. It wasn’t that the harassment was escalating. It was that they were traveling separate paths. “One mystery solved.”
She tilted back her head to regard him with a lift of her brows.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“You were the one who insisted that I host this ridiculous shindig,” she tartly reminded him. “Did you learn anything besides Cindy’s bust size?”
“Cindy?”
“The mortal who was worshipping at your feet.”
“Ah.” He allowed his fingers to trail over her lower back, male enough to enjoy her pique. “Was she the brunette or the redhead? They all start to look alike.”
“You ...”
He pressed a finger to her lips, halting her furious words. “I’ve started the process.”
