The Real Werewives of Vampire County
Page 19

“No.” Morton pressed his gloved hand to his forehead. “You’re trying to confuse me.”
“What’s confusing?” With another step she was able to reach out and grab his white polo shirt, giving him a small shake. “Where’s your gun? I’ll shoot him myself.”
“Stop... .” He regarded her in puzzlement, unaware of his danger. “Don’t do this... .”
Knowing she’d only have one shot at escape, Sophia pulled back her arm and smashed her fist into his face with enough force to make him fly across the cell and smack into the far wall.
If she’d been at full strength, the bastard would have been dead.
As it was, he was only knocked loopy.
With her heart lodged in her throat, Sophia darted toward Luc, who was on his feet, regarding her with a burning black gaze.
She didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know he was furious she was trying to rescue him rather than escaping.
Ignoring the massive fangs he bared as she knelt beside him, she clamped her hands around the silver collar. The silver seared into her skin, burning away the flesh, but there was no time to search for a key.
Already she could feel Morton stirring.
Luc growled, using his large head to try and push her away, but she held on. She could feel the silver stretching and weakening beneath her powerful tugs. Just a few more seconds and she’d be able to snap it in half.
The prickle on her neck was the only warning before a bolt of electricity shot through her body. She screamed, her back bowing beneath the impact, but grimly ignoring the brutal pain she continued to pull at the collar.
Distantly she was aware of Luc’s furious growls and yet more lightning dancing down her spine. Christ. She was about to black out.
Again.
Out of time, Sophia gave one more massive tug, not certain if she actually felt the collar snap beneath her grip, but there was no mistaking the sensation of Luc’s massive body brushing past her as he launched himself forward or the shrill screams of Morton.
Death screams.
CHAPTER 9
Once again Sophia was struggling out of a blanket of darkness.
This time it took only moments to realize she was lying on her own bed wearing a clean camisole and silk shorts. And that she wasn’t alone.
Luc filled the room with his presence.
The rich, male scent. The restless power of his wolf.
And above all, the prickling awareness that set her blood on fire.
For a crazed moment she felt an overwhelming surge of relief at the knowledge that they had both survived the basement from hell and that they were seemingly safe from Morton the crazy-ass cur.
Then she abruptly remembered that Luc was a total creep who’d played her for a fool.
And that she wanted to kick him in the nuts, not shiver in pleasure as he settled on the mattress beside her reclined body and gently tucked a curl behind her ear.
“Sophia?” he murmured softly. “I know you’re awake.”
She kept her eyes squeezed shut. Maturity was highly overrated.
“Go away.”
“No.”
She heaved an aggravated sigh. “I hate you.”
He trailed his fingers down the stubborn line of her jaw. “Sophia, open your eyes.”
“Will you go away if I do?”
“No.”
“What if I get a gun and shoot you?”
He chuckled, his fingers shifting to outline the curve of her lower lip.
“You won’t shoot me.”
Her eyes snapped open. How else could she glare into his handsome face?
Unfortunately, she also managed to catch a glimpse of his broad shoulders and the chiseled muscles of his chest that were perfectly outlined by his tight black T-shirt.
Dear gods, but he was gorgeous.
Edible.
Treacherous, unwelcome heat curled through the pit of her stomach.
“Why won’t I?” she asked between clenched teeth.
A smile teased at his lips, but the dark eyes remained watchful. Wary.
“Because you love me.”
She stiffened at the accusation. “Arrogant ass.”
“Maybe, but I’m your arrogant ass.”
With a curse, Sophia scooted until she was leaning against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, pleased to discover that her wounds were completely healed.
She could feel Luc’s gaze skim down her half-naked body with a tangible hunger, but she resisted the urge to crawl beneath the covers.
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still disturb her.
“Do you really think that I’m going to forgive and forget that you came to me under false pretenses?” she rasped. “That you climbed into my bed with lies? And that even after we ...”
“We what?” he prompted as her words broke off.
“Supposedly mated.”
His jaw clenched, his power thickening the air. “There’s no ‘supposed’ about it, Sophia. We are most definitely mated.”
She ignored his interruption, despite the voice in the back of her mind that warned he was right.
Mating wasn’t marriage. It couldn’t be ended by a couple of lawyers and a restraining order.
At the moment she wasn’t in any mood to admit they were still bonded.
“Even then you continued to deceive me.”
Something flared through the dark eyes. “I know.”
She blinked. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” She lowered her voice, mimicking his less-than-impressive explanation. “‘I know.’”
“I was scared,” he clarified.
Her brows snapped together. “If you’re trying to be funny ...”
“I’m not.”
“Mr. Neanderthal was scared?” She allowed her gaze to trail down the hard, toned perfection of his body. “Of what?”
“I didn’t know at the time.” He studied her with blatant regret. “I only knew that whenever I told myself I had to confess the truth, I found some reason to put off the inevitable.”
Her heart gave a renegade flutter. “And now?”
“Now I know that I was terrified that when you learned the truth you would never be able to forgive me. If I lost you ...” He abruptly reached to grasp her hand in a near painful grip, a haunting fear briefly flaring through his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to survive.”
A portion of her fury faded. There was no doubting the sincerity of his words.
She could feel the fierce emotions that pulsed through his body. They echoed in her own heart.
“What exactly is the truth?” she asked, her voice thick.
“I think you know most of it.” His thumb caressed her inner wrist, the light caress sending jolts of pleasure shooting through her. “I was contacted by Salvatore two weeks ago. He said that his mother-in-law was in danger, but that she was too stubborn to accept his help.” He grimaced. “To be honest, I wasn’t happy about his request. I’m a soldier, not a babysitter.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m not an aging, feebleminded female who needs her hand held by a big, bad male,” she snapped.
“Aging?” He seemed baffled by her outrage. “You’re an exquisite female who is just reaching her prime.”
A secret part of her preened at his words—she was, after all, about to become a grandmother, she had every right to be sensitive. But she was still angered by the thought she’d been treated as if she was incapable of making her own decisions.
“And feebleminded?” she pressed.
Frustration tightened his expression. “Of course you aren’t feebleminded. Hell, you’re clever enough to ensure my life is going to be a constant battle to keep up with you. But I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe, cara,” he rasped. “It’s what I was born to do.”
Okay.
That was exactly the right thing to say, she wryly acknowledged.
Not that she was ready to concede defeat. There were still a few bones to pick.
“If Salvatore realized I was searching for a bodyguard, why did he send you?” One day she would discover exactly how her son-in-law had known she was in danger and that she was looking for a hired thug. “It was obvious I was taking steps to protect myself.”
“Because I’m the best.”
She snorted. “Even if you do say so yourself?”
His dark gaze never wavered. “It’s not a boast, Sophia, it’s the simple truth.”
She believed him.
There was a vast difference between arrogance and confidence.
But she didn’t accept that it was just his talent in providing security that had prompted Salvatore to choose him.
“And because you would report to him?”
“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. “Your daughters were anxious to know you were safe.” Abruptly his grip on her hand tightened, his wolf glowing in his eyes. “Of course, in the end I failed you.”
Sophia sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the guilt that was festering deep inside Luc.
Christ, she’d never thought he would be blaming himself for her being kidnapped by Morton. The cur was raving mad. Who could possibly have predicted what he would do?