WHERE DARKNESS LIVES

The long sunken living room was decorated in shades of pale gray and silver with a glass wall overlooking the pool and distant tennis courts. The kitchen was large and airy with a breakfast nook and an attached dining room. A curved double staircase led from the foyer to the master suite upstairs, which had a bed large enough to accommodate a football team and a built-in whirlpool that would make any Were purr in pleasure.

And her bathroom ... it was every woman’s fantasy, with a shower that ran the entire length of one wall, while the tub was deep enough to drown in.

No way in hell was she giving up her comforts to hide in the basement of a leech.

Or at least, that was the story she’d given her daughters when they pleaded for her to join them.

And she was sticking to it.

“It’s cold,” she informed her unwelcome guest. “And it’s crawling with bloodsuckers.”

“Your daughters are all settled in.”

“Good. They need your protection.” She was genuinely relieved to know that Darcy and Harley and Regan were safely hidden. If only Cassandra was with them she could at last breathe easy. “I, however, do not.”

“These are dangerous times, Sophia. Even for a pure-blooded Were.”

She rolled her eyes.

Yeah, King of the Obvious.

There wasn’t a demon alive who wasn’t aware that the Dark Lord was threatening to return from his banishment and unleash all hell. Or that there were all sorts of nasties crawling out of the shadows.

Which was precisely why her daughters were currently being hidden in Styx’s lair.

And why she wasn’t about to put them in any further danger.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for centuries.”

Salvatore studied her stubborn expression.

“You don’t have to anymore,” he said at last, his voice soft. “You have a family.”

Once those words would have given her a rash. Now it made her heart warm with a strange emotion.

Hell, maybe she was getting old.

“A family is like medicine.” She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. “Best in small doses.”

The golden eyes flared as his wolf prowled close to the surface.

“I’m also your king. I could make joining us an order.”

Her smile widened, edged with a warning that made the large predator pale.

“And I could tell Harley about those nymph triplets that you—”

“Fine,” he abruptly interrupted, headed toward the door. “Be careful.”

“What danger could I be in here?”

“Trust me, evil can lurk anywhere.” Salvatore paused on the wide veranda to glance toward the distant homes surrounded by their perfectly manicured grounds. “Even suburbia.”

Sophia managed to hide her tiny shiver.

“Concentrate on finding Cassandra,” she said. “If I need you, I’ll call.”

“Take care of yourself... .” Salvatore tossed her a mocking grin. “Granny.”

Sophia narrowed her gaze.

Okay, she might be tickled pink that Harley was pregnant, but there was no way in hell she was putting up with “granny.”

“Call me that again and the litter Harley is carrying will be the last babies you’re capable of producing.”

With a chuckle, Salvatore headed toward his BMW, which was parked next to her low-slung Lamborghini.

Sophia watched his departure with a faint frown.

She hadn’t expected Salvatore to concede defeat so easily.

Which could only mean one thing.

This particular battle wasn’t over.





Sophia’s Menagerie was a two-story brick building that discreetly blended in with the more conservative businesses that lined the quiet Chicago street.

Once inside, however, there was nothing discreet about the crimson carpet and shimmering gold wallpaper. Or the Venetian chandeliers that spilled light over the padded booths that were arranged to face the low stage.

There was an atmosphere of indulgent luxury that lifted her club above all others.

Well, that and the insanely gorgeous male strippers who could send an entire audience of women into a frenzy of screaming excitement.

Entering through the back door, Sophia made her way past the dressing rooms to the main floor, a satisfied smile curling her lips as her employees scurried about, preparing for the upcoming flood of customers.

This place might be just another strip club to some people, but for her it was her tangible display of independence.

She halted a moment to appreciate the sight of Dmitri and Dominic practicing their dance routine. The twin Weres had recently immigrated from Russian and were so exquisitely handsome it was a wonder they hadn’t melted Siberia.

Tall and slender with short, spiky blond hair and ice-blue eyes, they moved with the liquid grace of all pure-bloods. Combine that with the tiny fur G-strings that were the only thing covering their pale, perfect bodies ... yummy.

Then her smile twisted as she caught sight of the man standing near the edge of the stage, his hand reaching toward Dmitri. Or was it Dominic?

Troy, prince of imps, was a large, muscular man with the build of a professional wrestler and the fashion taste of a drag queen. At the moment he was attired in silver spandex pants and a see-through jade shirt that gave a nice glimpse of his broad chest.

His long, brilliant red hair flowed down his back like a river of fire and his emerald eyes danced with a wicked sense of humor that was contagious.