“What else?”
“My tires slashed. A dead rat left in my swimming pool.” Her gaze shifted past him to the bullet hole in the floor. A few more inches and she would have been skewered. “At least until today.”
His frown deepened, his expression distracted. “Strange.”
“Strange that someone tried to shoot me, or strange that they hadn’t tried before?” she asked dryly.
“It usually doesn’t escalate so swiftly.”
She forced herself to hold his questioning gaze at his unnerving perception.
It wasn’t bad enough his mere touch could make her wolf pant with need, he also had to be intelligent?
“You mean the attacks?”
“Exactly.” His hands shifted so his thumbs were brushing the sensitive line of her throat, pausing over the unsteady beat of her pulse. “It’s a hell of a leap from scribbling a nasty note to pulling a trigger. Most people never progress to that point. And those that do take longer than a few days to go from catty to psychotic.”
“Hmmm.” Her expression was noncommittal. “I see your point.”
His eyes narrowed. “When did you receive your first threat?”
“A few days after I moved into my new house. Two weeks ago,” she promptly answered. “I assumed it was a jealous neighbor.”
“Nothing before then?”
“Lots.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I am the Queen of Bitches, remember? But most of my enemies have the balls to face me, not creep around like an angst-ridden adolescent.”
He gave a slow nod. “Tell me about your neighbors.”
“I’ve only met a handful.” She hadn’t been particularly concerned by the lack of a welcoming committee. “Most of them are mortal. Big yawn.”
“But not all?”
“No. There’s a vamp who has a lair directly behind my tennis courts.”
His thumbs skimmed up and down her throat with an intimacy that should have made her wolf snarl in warning. A Were’s neck was considered off-limits to all but their most trusted pack mates.
Instead she battled the urge to tilt back her head and offer her tender flesh to his teeth.
Christ, what was wrong with her?
“A vamp wouldn’t waste their time with notes and tire slashing,” he said, his gaze following the path of his fingers, a glow deep in his eyes. “You piss one off and they go directly for the throat. Literally.”
“Kirsten’s barely out of her foundling years,” she informed him. “She’s still at the mercy of her human emotions.”
He seemed to dismiss the vamp, although Sophia didn’t doubt he’d tucked the info in the back of his mind.
Nothing was allowed to escape this Were’s notice.
Not the most comforting thought.
“Anyone else?”
“There’s a nymph down the block.” Sophia grimaced. “She’s always polite in public, but I sense that she has no intention of becoming my BFF.”
“She might be responsible for the drive-by harassments, but nymphs aren’t usually bloodthirsty.”
“You haven’t seen how possessive she is of her current lover.” Sophia shuddered. There had been a fanatical glint in the nymph’s eyes when she’d introduced her boyfriend to Sophia, her hands clinging to him with an embarrassing desperation. “It’s creepy.”
Luc lifted a dark brow. “Lover?”
“A cur.” Curs were humans who’d been bitten instead of being born a pure-blooded Were. They were capable of shifting, but they couldn’t control the shifts as a Were could, and they weren’t immortal, although their lifespan was greatly increased. “Well, more or less.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s been turned, I can smell it, but he’s a pathetic excuse for a cur.” The image of his short, pudgy body and pasty face turned Sophia’s stomach. “He’s an embarrassment to curs everywhere. I’ve never encountered such a timid creature.”
He stepped forward, pressing her body against the wall. “Not your type at all.”
“You know nothing of my type.”
Lowering his head, he allowed his lips to brush over the racing pulse at the base of her throat.
“I know I’m it.”
Hell, they both knew he was it.
She was going up in flames from a mere touch.
What would happen if he actually kissed her?
Not about to stay around and find out, she shoved her hands against his chest.
“Ugh,” she muttered, marching around him and down the stairs.
It was bad enough that she’d spent the day dodging bullets. She wasn’t going to make it worse by becoming another victim to Luc’s fatal charm.
She had no doubt there were enough of them littering the streets of Miami.
* * *
Luc finished his sweep of the office building and was pulling his black Mercedes SL550 Roadster past the uniformed guard who was opening the gates of Sophia’s neighborhood when his cell phone beeped.
A glance at the flashing ID and he grimaced, knowing he couldn’t ignore the call.
Turning up the car stereo, he put the phone to his ear. There were too many demons with superior hearing to take chances.
“What’s up?” he demanded, sighing at his caller’s response. “Sí. I’m headed back to her house now.” His jaw tightened. “No, she doesn’t suspect anything. Not yet. But she’s too smart for me to fool for long.” There was another burst of sharp words. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll keep in touch.”
Tossing his phone into the passenger seat, Luc parked his car at the end of the tree-lined street. Then, briefly considering the benefits of shifting, he gave a shake of his head and jogged toward Sophia’s house.
He’d already called his wolf to search the office building. His human form couldn’t begin to match his wolf senses, but while he was stronger than most Weres, he didn’t want to waste unnecessary energy.
Not when he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t need to protect Sophia.
Reaching the nearly half acre of parkland surrounding Sophia’s house, he did a swift search of the grounds, including the pool house, before entering her home through the patio doors.
He’d checked through her living room, a guest bedroom, and the fully equipped gym before heading to the kitchen.
Not surprisingly, he found Sophia leaning against the marble counter, her arms folded across her chest. She would have sensed him the moment he entered her yard.
Halting in the center of the ceramic-tiled floor, Luc allowed his gaze to run over her slender body barely covered by a lacy red camisole and matching silk shorts.
He bit back a growl, his gaze lifting to the beautiful face framed by the pale golden hair.
The lust he didn’t mind. What male wouldn’t be hot and bothered by the sight of a gorgeous, half-naked female?
But the sense of recognition from his wolf, as if she . . . belonged to him, was unnerving.
Especially when the emerald eyes were glowing with a warning that was far from welcoming.
“Do your duties include breaking and entering?”
He deliberately glanced toward the door leading from the breakfast nook onto the patio. A dew fairy could break the flimsy-ass lock.
“No, but they include an inspection of your alarm system.”
She snorted. “I’m a pure-blooded Were. That’s all the alarm system I need.”
Scowling at her nonchalant tone, he turned back with a glare of frustration.
Dios.
Did she know how her seeming lack of concern was challenging his wolf to do whatever necessary to protect her?
“Obviously not if some lunatic has managed to wander around your place without getting caught,” he growled.
“The lunatic always trespassed when I was at the club.” She allowed her gaze to drift down to his heavy boots and back to his narrowed eyes. “At least until tonight.”
“You need an alarm system.”
She heaved a purely feminine sigh of exasper
ation at his stubborn expression.
“Did you find anything at the office building?”
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 ungodly 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 breasts beneath the red lace.
“Yeah, but I’ll throw in the night of mind-blowing sex 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 hell makes you think that I’m hiding something?”
“A pure-blooded Were doesn’t hire a bodyguard just because she’s being harassed.”
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 hell 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 harassment 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 harassing 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
Hell, 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 circumstances.
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 shifted 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 hell?” 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 astonishing 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 décor. At last reaching the ebony slipper bed, he laid her on the white and black striped comforter and st
raightened 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 shivered. 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 shifted 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.”
“Please.”
She stilled in surprise. She’d bet her favorite Hermès handbag that this man had never said the P word more than once or twice in his very long existence.