Chapter 7
It was late morning when Sophia and Luc crept into Kirsten’s home, both shifting into wolf form to make a swift sweep of her lavish lair.
Once it was obvious there was nothing suspicious beyond an obscenely massive collection of Manolo Blahnik shoes that Sophia fully intended to get her greedy hands on, Luc gave her rump a playful nip and they headed back to her house.
Following him up the stairs to her ... their ... bedroom, she had an opportunity to admire her wolf.
And he was well worth admiring.
A large beast with massive fangs and dark fur, he was the size of a pony with a broad chest and thickly muscled legs. His eyes glowed with the midnight fire of his wolf, but there was an unmistakable intelligence that was as dangerous as all the strength of his heavy body.
Oh yes, he was fine, fine, fine.
An opinion that was only emphasized as a shimmering light haloed his body as he shifted back to his human form.
He shuddered as his body hovered between wolf and man, the ancient magic pulsing through the air. Then the transformation was over and with a remarkable ability to recover, Luc was rising to his feet, his naked body all chiseled perfection wrapped in smooth bronze silk.
Yummmmmm.
Sophia concentrated on her own shift, relishing the painful stretch of muscle and popping of bone. There was a primitive satisfaction in calling on her powers.
Not quite as swift as Luc in regaining her balance, Sophia slowly rose to her feet and pulled on the short, silk robe tossed on the bed. Across the room, Luc was already dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and polo shirt that might have made him look civilized if not for the shadow of whiskers already darkening his jaw and the feral glint in his eyes.
“Anything?” he asked, referring to their recent jaunt through the vampire’s lair.
“No.”
He moved to the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door, smoothing back his hair.
“Which would seem to leave the cur as the last of our suspects.”
“Morton?” She snorted. “I can’t imagine him as a homicidal maniac.”
He turned to discover her eyeing his ass. A smug smile curved his lips.
“Looks are far too often deceiving.”
Sophia grimaced, picturing the dull fire hydrant of a cur. “They would have to be excessively deceiving.”
He shrugged. “I’ll soon find out.”
“Assuming he is guilty, I don’t know how walking around a golf course whacking at a white ball is going to convince the cur to confess.”
Luc crossed to stand directly in front of her. “He doesn’t need to confess.”
“No?”
He reached to grasp a lock of her hair, smoothing it between his fingers.
“Given enough time alone with him, I’ll know if he’s guilty.”
“Hmmm.” She studied the supreme confidence etched on his face. “You’re not a mind reader, are you?”
“I have any number of talents, cara.” His voice lowered to the husky drawl that made her shiver. “Not all of them involve a bed.”
“Arrogant dog.”
He paused, absently twirling her hair around one finger. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
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.”
“You seem abnormally interested in my relationship with Sophia,” Luc mocked. “Don’t you have your own female to worry about?”
Morton belatedly attempted to hide his obsession with his beautiful neighbor.
“I merely believe Sophia deserves a more worthy male.”
Luc lifted a brow. “A male like you?”
“I would certainly appreciate her fine qualities.” The crimson gaze flicked over Luc with a dismissive annoyance. “Unlike you.”
“If you think she’s so fine, then why haven’t you made your move on her?” Luc deliberately widened his eyes, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Or have you already tried and been shot down?”
“Certainly not.”
“No doubt for the best.” Luc gave the cur another slap on the back, barely resisting the urge to unleash his claws and rip out his throat. The mere thought that the creep had been secretly lusting after Sophia made his wolf ache for blood. “Just between us, I don’t think she would ever be interested. I believe her exact words were that you were ‘a sorry excuse for a cur.’ ”
Morton flinched at the insult, but there was a grim set to his jaw. As if he’d made his decision and nothing was going to sway him.
“That’s only because she doesn’t know me.”
“You think you’ll grow on her?” Luc chuckled. “Like fungus?”
“I think she’s an intelligent female who can appreciate the needs of duty.”
Luc stilled, thrown off guard by the unexpected words. “Duty?”
“Precisely.”
All right, enough was enough.
He had no doubt that Morton was the stalker and he intended to get to the truth, one way or another.
He actually preferred the “another” option, since it included a lot of pain and carnage.
“Is it your duty to try and kill her?”
Morton looked like a deer in the headlights for a split second, then meeting Luc’s ruthless gaze he seemed to accept that he was busted. With a shrug he allowed his act to drop, a cunning expression settling on his pudgy face.
“Ah, I feared you had guessed the truth.”
Luc subtly scooted forward, not wanting to be in the position where he could be pinned against the roll-bar of the cart.
Not that he believed for a moment the cur could physically overpower him. Still, better safe than sorry.
“The only thing I’ve guessed is that you’re responsible for stalking Sophia.”
“Not stalking ...” Morton corrected, “testing.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Although I’ve held the greatest respect for Sophia since the birth of her daughters, I needed to be certain that she retained her strength and agility over the years.”
A chill inched down Luc’s spine. There was something far more disturbing about this calm, almost condescending Morton.
“Why?”
“To bear my children, of course.”
Fury pulsed through Luc, his wolf savagely trying to break free of his restraint. It would kill before it allowed another man to steal his mate.
And the man in him was in full agreement.
Ironic he was the one in a rage considering he’d been trying to provoke the cur.
“Are you insane?”
With a smooth motion, Morton reached into the cooler set on the seat between them and pulled out a small gun loaded with a cartridge.
Luc frowned. A tranq gun? The cur truly was insane if he thought a pure-blooded Were could be put down by a mere tranquilizer.
“Don’t ever question my sanity,” Morton warned, obviously a little sensitive on the subject of his mental state.
Luc carefully judged the distance between them as he sought to keep the cur distracted.
“If you want her as a breeder then why did you try to kill her?”
Morton regarded him as if he were particularly dense. “I didn’t try to kill her. I’ll admit that I devised a few obstacles to monitor her physical condition, but I would never permanently harm her.”
“Bastard,” Luc snarled, furious at the thought of Sophia being systematically terrorized by this psycho. “I know you were the one who shot at her. A silver bullet through the heart would have been very permanent.”
“I wasn’t shooting at her, you fool.” Morton smirked, clearly thinking that his peashooter gave him the upper hand. A mistake that Luc was eager to demonstrate. “I was aiming at you.”
Luc frowned, startled by the confession. “Me?”
“I had borrowed Victoria’s disguise amulet to follow Sophia to her club when you arrived in Chicago.” His expression hardened with disgust. “I knew from the way you were watching her that you were going to interfere with my plans.”
“What plans?”
“To capture Sophia and impregnate her with my litter.”
Any coherent thought was lost as a red mist descended over him, his beast beyond the point of no return.
“No way in hell,” he growled, his words nearly unintelligible.
Looking almost bored as Luc began to shift, Morton pointed the gun at the center of his chest.
“I just knew you were going to be trouble.”
Distantly Luc heard the pop of the gun and felt the dart plunge into his flesh, but, lost in his transformation, it was too late when he realized his muscles were slowly being paralyzed as the unknown substance began to flow through his blood.
Regarding the smug cur in horror, he realized he should have paid far more attention to his own warnings.
Looks truly were deceiving....