Where Darkness Lives Page 4

  The fact he’d lowered his pride to use it now undermined any hope of resisting his soft plea.

  “You know the history of our people,” she hedged, feeling dangerously vulnerable.

  “That covers a lot of ground.”

  “For far too long we have hovered on the edge of extinction.”

  “Yes, but that is all about to change now that Salvatore has destroyed the demon lord,” he pointed out, referring to the King of Weres’ recent battle with the demon who’d been draining them of their powers for centuries. “Already our strength is returning. Even those ancient powers that have been nearly forgotten.” His lips twisted into a rueful grin. “Dangerous powers.”

  “I suppose you’re referring to Salvatore discovering that Harley is his true mate?”

  He nodded. “As I said . . . dangerous.”

  Sophia had to agree with him.

  True matings between Weres had become nothing more than a distant legend until Salvatore’s shocking bond with Harley. Now there were rumors of more and more purebloods becoming mated.

  What would it feel like to know she was irrevocably tied to a mate?

  That never again would she desire another in her bed?

  She told herself that it was a horrifying thought.

  And she almost believed it.

  “Salvatore seems disgustingly pleased with himself, and I have to admit Harley is content.”

  His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “But you’re still haunted by our past?”

  Haunted?

  It sounded dramatic, but Sophia couldn’t deny it captured the memories that refused to leave her in peace.

  “I was one of less than a dozen females capable of becoming pregnant,” she abruptly admitted.

  He stilled. “A breeder.”

  “Nice,” she muttered, oddly offended by the term used for those rare fertile females.

  “Sorry.” He grimaced. “I never considered the burden you must have carried.”

  It had been more than a burden. Without their usual powers, the Were females had not only become increasingly infertile, but they’d lost the ability to control their shifts during their pregnancies.

  It had nearly been the end of purebloods.

  “When a race is trying to survive, we must all do our part,” she said, doing her best to keep the lingering pain hidden.

  Typically, Luc wasn’t fooled.

  “And we all must bear the scars,” he said softly, something in his voice suggesting that he had a few unwelcome memories of his own.

  “Yes.”

  He studied her in silence, his fingers continuing to wreak havoc with her senses as they stroked along her cheek and then tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “How many children did you lose?”

  She flinched at the low question. “Hundreds.”

  “Oh . . . cara.”

  Her eyes lowered, unable to bear the sympathy gleaming in the dark eyes.

  “I swore I was done when Salvatore convinced me to try one more time.” Her gut knotted. She wanted to forget those days of being nothing more than a breeding machine, expected to try and carry a litter year after endless year. “He wanted to alter the DNA of my babies so they couldn’t shift and would be more likely to carry a child to full-term.”

  “And spare them the pain you endured.”

  Her lips twisted. “That was the plan.”

  “And it worked.” There was an unmistakable pride in his voice. “The entire Were nation celebrated your four miraculous daughters.”

  “Who were promptly stolen from the nursery,” she reminded him, unwilling to reveal her confusion of emotions when she’d manage to produce her daughters, only to have them disappear. The anger, the dread, the overriding fear that made her emotionally distance herself from the children whom she’d never been allowed to hold in her arms. “I spent the past thirty years searching for my daughters.”

  “And now?”

  “Now it’s ‘me time.’ ” She met his steady gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “No responsibilities, no one depending on me, no one trying to control me. Got it?”

  * * *

  Luc got it.

  He really did.

  This female had spent her entire life with the fate of her people resting on her shoulders.

  Was it any wonder she was so skeevy to maintain her independence?

  Unfortunately she was in danger.

  And even if he wasn’t plagued by an ever-increasing need to protect her, he would be bound by his duty to keep her safe.

  Regardless if it meant forcing her to accept his help.

  And making an enemy of her in the bargain.

  He hissed at the strangely painful thought, his hand shifting to trace the line of her slender throat.

  “I got it, cara,” he gently assured her, “but it doesn’t change the fact that someone’s trying to hurt you.”

  She made a sound of annoyance. “Which is why I hired a bodyguard.”

  He smiled, his wolf smug as she allowed his fingers to savor the satin skin of her neck.

  It was an intimate touch that spoke of trust. And to his wolf . . . possession.

  “So at least you agree that I’m hired?”

  “I suppose,” she muttered. “God only knows what Troy would come up with next.”

  “Good.” He ignored her blatant lack of enthusiasm. Once he was certain she was safe, he would concentrate on teaching her the pleasure of having him as her personal bodyguard. “Then tomorrow you pack a bag.”

  He felt her heart leap beneath his fingers. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m taking you to Miami.”

  She swore, batting away his hand as her eyes glowed with a dangerous power.

  “No way in hell.”

  He swallowed his growl at her direct challenge. It was time for reasoning with the female, not . . . what had she said? Going caveman on her?

  “Once I know you’re out of the line of fire, I can concentrate on locating your homicidal neighbor.”

  “No.”

  “Sophia.”

  “No,” she repeated, an edge of finality in her voice. “I just moved into this house and started my business. I’m not going to run and hide like a gutless mist sprite.”

  “It would only be for a few days.”

  “You can’t know that.” She held his gaze, silently warning him she wouldn’t be screwed with. “It could take you weeks or even months.”

  His teeth clenched. “Then stay with one of your daughters until I’ve cleared up this mess.”

  “And put them in even more danger?” She shook her head. “No way.”

  His fingers encircled her neck, not in a threat, just an expression of frustration.

  “You are . . .”

  “The boss.”

  Their gazes clashed and Luc swiftly shifted through his limited options.

  He could physically force her to go to Miami. He had the brute strength and the training necessary to manhandle all but the king.

  But even as the thought raced through his mind, he was dismissing it.

  He knew without a doubt that turning her into his virtual prisoner, even if it was for her own good, would break something fragile inside her.

  “Obstinada,” he breathed, leaning down to yank off his boots.

  Then, ignoring her sudden scowl, he rose from the bed to strip off his T-shirt. He had tugged off his belt and was unzipping his pants when she found her voice.

  “If you’re auditioning for a position at my club, I have to warn you we only take experienced dancers,” she rasped.

  He shrugged, pulling down his pants and kicking them aside to stand in nothing but his black satin boxers.

  “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed . . .”

  “Then he gets kicked in his nuts?”

  He stretched out on the mattress beside her, hiding a smile as he caught her covert gaze ogling his thickly muscled legs before lifting to linger on the broad expanse
of his chest.

  She might want him gone, but that didn’t keep her from lusting after his body.

  And frankly he was good with that.

  For now.

  “I can’t protect you if I’m not close to you.”

  “That doesn’t include sharing my bed.”

  “As a matter of fact it does.” Lying on his back, he tucked his hands behind his head. “At least until I get a security system set up.”

  She bent over him, her expression hard even if she couldn’t disguise the scent of her smoldering arousal.

  “If you have to stay, then you can sleep in another room.”

  “Too far.”

  “Then use the chair.” She pointed toward the charcoal-gray chair set next to the window. “There’s an extra blanket in the closet.”

  “What’s wrong, Sophia?” he teased. “Afraid you can’t keep yourself from jumping me in my sleep?”

  Unexpectedly the emerald eyes darkened, as if he’d injured her.

  “Despite the rumors you claim to have heard about me, I don’t spread my legs for every man who crosses my path,” she said stiffly.

  Dios.

  Regretting his thoughtless words, he lifted himself onto his elbows, regarding her with a somber gaze.

  “That was never a rumor I heard, and I wouldn’t believe it if I did.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Sophia, I’m here to protect you.” Her lips parted and he hastily pressed a finger to halt her angry words. “Hold on. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by denying that I want you.” He allowed his hunger to simmer in the air, the heat stirring the satin strands of her hair. “Desperately. Or that I’m going to say ‘no’ when you finally accept that I’m irresistible.” With an effort he leashed his aching desire, needing her to realize that she would always be safe in his care. Physically and emotionally. “But until that moment, I don’t expect anything from you but your cooperation in keeping you alive.”

  Her expression remained suspicious. “You intend to spend the night with me and not have sex?”

  Both wolf and man groaned at the mere thought of the long hours ahead, but his smile never wavered.

  “I can keep our relationship platonic if you can.”

  It was a direct challenge.

  One no wolf could back down from.

  Her jaw clenched. “The boxers stay on.”

  His smile widened. “You’re the boss.”

  Turning her back to him, she reached to switch off the Tiffany lamp.

  “Christ, I must be out of my mind.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It was late afternoon when Sophia woke.

  Considering that dawn had already crested when she’d at last fallen asleep, it was no surprise she’d slept late.

  It was, however, a surprise to realize that she was not only wrapped in Luc’s strong arms, but that she’d molded herself so tightly to his body that she might as well have been a damned barnacle on the bottom of a ship.

  Her head was tucked beneath his chin, her ear pressed over the steady beat of his heart, and she had one leg thrown over his hip.

  Pathetic.

  Sensing he was awake and well aware of her embarrassment, she tilted back her head, intending to slay him with a heated glare.

  Instead she forgot how to breathe.

  Holy . . . shit, but he was beautiful.

  Achingly, shatteringly beautiful.

  Helplessly her gaze wandered over the chiseled male features that were only emphasized by his heavy morning beard and his tousled hair. The high cheekbones, the wide brow, the near-black eyes that could make a woman melt at a hundred paces.

  It wasn’t until his lips parted to reveal the teeth that were shockingly white against his bronzed skin that she was reminded that she wanted to punch him in his perfect nose, not . . .

  Other things.

  Wicked, delicious other things.

  “If you intended to use this side of the bed you should have said so last night,” she informed him, shifting her hands from his back to press them against his chest.

  He smiled at her with a lazy satisfaction. “You were the one who wanted me to be more sensitive.”

  “I said I didn’t want you acting like a caveman,” she corrected. “Besides there’s nothing sensitive in groping me while I’m asleep.”

  His hands drifted over her hips, touching her with a familiarity that should have been offensive, not exciting.

  “You were whimpering and tossing around until I at last took you in my arms,” he claimed. “Once I had you tucked against me you slept like a baby.”

  Her lips parted to deny his ridiculous claim, only to snap shut as a vague memory flashed through her mind—a nightmare in which she was being chased through a dark forest by an unseen enemy.

  Muttering her opinion of arrogant Weres who should be neutered, she shoved her way out of his arms and headed toward her bathroom.

  “I need a shower.”

  “What about breakfast?”

  “Do I look like Julia Child?” she demanded, pausing to send him a warning scowl. “Don’t even think about opening this door.”

  He grinned, looking edible as he tucked his hands behind his head, the satin sheet falling down to reveal his wide chest and washboard abs.

  “I could scrub your back.”

  Fiercely refusing to allow the tempting image to form in her mind, Sophia slammed the door shut and turned the lock.

  Not that she thought Luc would intrude into her privacy. He might be overbearing when it came to protecting her, but he would never force himself on an unwilling woman.

  Why would he?

  He no doubt had an entire harem waiting for him back in Miami.

  Refusing to consider why that thought made her wolf snarl, Sophia yanked off her camisole and shorts before entering her shower and turning the cold water on full blast.

  A half an hour later she was dressed in a tiny yellow bikini with a matching sarong that fell to her knees tied around her slender waist. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her expression was defiant.

  She hadn’t chosen her favorite swimsuit to make Luc forget those females she was now convinced he must have left behind. That would be downright childish, she told herself as she made her way toward the delicious aroma of frying onions, garlic, peppers, and fresh tomatoes.

  It was just that she always spent a few hours by the pool before heading to her club.

  Of course, if it did make his jaw drop, then she wouldn’t complain.

  Her cocky smile lasted until she stepped into the kitchen to catch sight of Luc standing beside the stove still dressed in nothing more than his silk boxers.

  Instinctively her hand lifted to make sure no drool was dribbling down her chin.

  Holy crap.

  Most women would sell their souls to walk in and find this bronzed god fixing them breakfast.

  Including her, she abruptly realized.

  For a crazed moment she considered the pleasure of walking across the floor and wrapping her arms around his narrow waist to press herself against his back.

  Then abruptly she recalled he wasn’t here because he’d been mesmerized by her charm. Or even because he thought she was hot.

  He was here because her life was in danger. And while she didn’t doubt for a minute he would be more than happy to fulfill a few of her deepest fantasies, she would be a fool to think she would be anything but a convenient female body he was willing to use until it was time to move on.

  She didn’t know why the thought should make her suddenly so grumpy, but she did know her fingers itched to toss a few of her Baccarat crystal glasses.

  Instead she forced a casual smile to her lips as she crossed to the breakfast nook where the table was already set, complete with fresh roses from the garden.

  “Making yourself at home?” she drawled, settling on a padded wicker chair.

  Efficiently plating a mound of golden scrambled eggs that he covered with his ch
unky tomato sauce, he crossed to set it in the center of the table. Sophia breathed deeply, catching the spicy aroma of chilies and cumin and chopped oregano.

  “You should be thanking me,” he murmured, taking a seat across the small table, his grin distinctly wicked. “I’ve had women begging on their knees for a taste of my huevos rancheros.”

  That wasn’t the only thing they begged for, she silently acknowledged, piling her plate high with scrambled eggs before taking a sip of her freshly squeezed orange juice.

  Heaven.

  She glanced up to catch him watching her with an unreadable expression.

  “Shouldn’t you be rigging up my alarm system or something?”

  “We need to talk first.” He nodded toward her plate. “Eat.”

  She rolled her eyes at his commanding tone. “Are you going to give me a treat if I roll over and play dead?”

  His lips twitched. “What do you want from me?”

  “Ask me, don’t order me.”

  “Do I get credit for not throwing you over my shoulder and hauling you back to bed?” Heat blazed in his eyes as they skimmed down her nearly naked body. “That’s what my inner caveman is urging me to do. And my wolf agrees.”

  So did her wolf.

  It didn’t mind a bit of caveman.

  Not when the end result was some raw, spectacular sex.

  She shoveled the eggs into her mouth, barely taking time to savor the bold flavor as she cleaned her plate. Anything to distract her from the aching void between her legs that was becoming nearly unbearable.

  Once finished, she pushed away her plate. It really had been delicious and she crankily wondered if there was anything that wasn’t perfect about this Were.

  “What do you want to discuss?”

  Having polished off his own plate, Luc settled back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

  “A party.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want you to host a party.”

  She slowly narrowed her gaze. “What kind of party?”

  He gave a sudden laugh. “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

  “Now you can read my mind?” she muttered, pretending the maddening image of Luc floating in her hot tub with a covey of water sprites pleasuring his naked body hadn’t just flared through her mind.

  He leaned forward, his hand reaching to cover hers. “I told you I’m not into public displays. Especially not when it comes to sex,” he assured her in a voice filled with husky promise. “I like it mano y mano with lots of privacy and lots of time.” The dark eyes flashed with sinful amusement. “And occasionally handcuffs.”