The Real Werewives of Vampire County

Page 15

She gave a vague wave of her hand, hoping he truly wasn’t a mind reader.
“Oh, you know.”
“Know what?”
“This and that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your ‘this and that’ wouldn’t include a visit to Victoria, would it?”
Dammit. How had he known she was plotting something?
“Isn’t that what golf widows do?” she demanded. “Keep each other company with a bottle of Chardonnay?”
“No.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Excuse me?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
Odd. She would have thought their mating would have given him some insight into her aversion to being given orders.
He might as well have waved a red flag before a bull.
“How the hell can it be too dangerous?” she said between clenched teeth. “The cur’s going to be golfing with you, not lurking under the sofa.”
His expression was hard, as unyielding as granite. “The nymph might be working with him.”
“I already told you that she knew nothing about the attempts to kill me.”
“She could be lying,” he countered. “And even if she isn’t responsible, she will do whatever necessary to protect her lover if she realizes we suspect him.”
She stepped forward, poking her finger into the center of his chest.
“Let me get this straight,” she growled. “You intend to spend the entire afternoon with a cur who might or might not be a bloodthirsty murderer, but I’m not allowed to have a glass of wine with a damned nymph?”
He didn’t even flinch at her fierce accusation. “I’m not the one being hunted, Sophia.”
Her teeth snapped together at the truth of his words.
She was stubborn, not stupid. And while it aggravated the hell out of her, she had to concede he had a point.
The reason she’d hired a bodyguard hadn’t gone away just because she’d fallen in love with the man, had it? The only sensible thing to do was to let him do his job.
Even if the thought of twiddling her thumbs while Luc was searching for her enemy made her want to howl in frustration.
“Dammit.” She glared at Luc, in this moment holding him entirely responsible. Hey, what were mates for? “I hate feeling helpless.”
“You will never be helpless, cara, but just for now you need to take extra care,” he murmured, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “Let me protect you.”
Like he was giving her a choice?
She heaved a sigh. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” he demanded, almost as if he didn’t trust her.
Imagine that.
“I won’t visit the nymph,” she clarified.
“You’ll stay home?”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
She met his smoldering gaze with a stubborn frown. She’d agreed to give up her plan to search Morton’s house for signs of his guilt, but she’d be damned if she would remain trapped in her house like a damsel in distress.
“I need to go to the club.”
“It can survive one day without you.”
“Not today,” she insisted. “I have payroll checks to sign and a new dancer scheduled for an audition.”
He stilled, the scent of his wolf filling the air. The beast didn’t like the thought of her being close to another male.
Understandable. She’d slice off his nuts if she thought he was sniffing after another female.
“A new dancer?” he growled.
“Yes.” Her slow smile assured him that he was the only man she wanted. “He’s a Were from China who supposedly does things with his nun-chucks that make women melt.”
Without warning she was wrapped in possessive arms and hauled against Luc’s broad chest.
“When I get back tonight I’ll show you my nun-chucks,” he promised, planting an openmouthed kiss at the base of her neck. “I bet they’re bigger.”
A sure bet, she silently acknowledged, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Just make sure you make it back,” she commanded, studying him with open concern.
He might be the biggest, baddest Were on the block, but there was a psychopath out there who had a gun with silver bullets and wasn’t afraid to use them.
“I promise.” His lips nibbled a path up the curve of her neck, halting just below her ear. “And, Sophia.”
She shivered, her body instinctively arching against him. “Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
Pulling back she regarded him with a wary frown.
The words were as good as a cold shower.
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
“I just need you to know... .” He bit off his words, his expression impossible to read.
“What?”
There was a pause, as if he was considering his words. Then he gave a short shake of his head.
“Later.”
Okay. Her vague unease became downright worry.
“Luc?”
“Sorry.” He leaned down to steal a searing kiss that sent bolts of excitement through her before turning to head for the door. “Can’t be late for our tee time.”
She watched his departure with a jaundiced frown, knowing it would be a waste of time to try and force him to reveal what was troubling him.
He would confess when he was good and ready.
Throwing her hands in the air she headed to her shower.
“Men.”
The exclusive country club south of town was precisely what Luc had been expecting. A large clubhouse designed in a tudor-style with attached pool, tennis courts, and stables all impeccably maintained.
The surrounding golf course was equally well-manicured. The fairways were narrow with deep sand bunkers and a line of overhanging trees that might have posed a challenge for a human. Luc, however, possessed the strength to simply hit his ball over any obstacles to the distant green, more often than not ending up mere inches from the flag that fluttered in the summer breeze.
By the time they’d reached the back nine, his physical superiority had accomplished precisely what he desired.
Morton had gone from a casual companion to a furious cur who was fuming with a frustration that reddened his round cheeks and made his eyes flash with sparks of crimson as he tried to hold back his wolf.
Unlike pure-blooded Weres, the curs were at the mercy of their beast, and while Luc didn’t want the man to shift, he did want him so preoccupied with controlling his temper that his defenses were lowered.
Who knew what he might reveal?
Putting away his club after holing out on a par five, Luc joined his companion in the golf cart, nearly being tumbled out as the cur stomped on the gas pedal.
“Nice shot,” Morton gritted.
Luc sprawled back in the seat, smiling with a lazy arrogance custom-designed to infuriate his companion.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Morton scowled. “It was a hole in one.”
“A little competitive there, champ?”
Looking remarkably like a marshmallow with his square, squishy body covered in a white shirt and matching pants, Morton gripped the wheel of the golf cart and struggled not to do something stupid.
“My name is Morton, not champ,” he snapped, “and when I do something, I like to do it well.”
“Don’t we all?”
The pale eyes glowed with a crimson fire. “Some more than others.”
Luc chuckled, reaching over to slap the man on the back, hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“You know, Morty-boy, if I didn’t know better I might think you didn’t like me.”
The cur clenched his teeth, no doubt counting to ten.
“How long are you planning to stay in Chicago?” he at last demanded.
“Hoping to get rid of me?”
“I would think the suburbs would be a bore.”
Luc offered a taunting grin, covertly studying the tension emanating from the cur.
So far all he’d managed to pick up was Morton’s natural aversion to an obnoxious companion. Time to up the ante.
“True, but there are benefits,” he drawled. “Sophia is smoking hot between the sheets.”
The male hissed. “Typical.”
“Did you say something?”
Without warning the cur veered the cart off the path and headed into a thick patch of trees. Turning in his seat, he studied Luc with a revulsion he no longer tried to hide.
Luc hid a smile. Action at last.
“Sophia is revered among our people, but of course a man like you would only consider your own pleasures.”
Luc paused at the fierce words.
There was an edge of crazy that he’d been looking for, but he didn’t sound like a man intent on killing a female.
Of course, there were always those bastards who were willing to murder the object of their fantasy if they couldn’t have them.
He slouched against the leather seat, pretending he didn’t notice the cur was a breath away from shifting.
“She may be revered, but she needs a good banging like every other woman.”
More crimson fire in the eyes. “Animal.”