The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 17

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 s.h.i.+fting 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-s.h.i.+rt.

Dear G.o.ds, 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 a.s.s."

"Maybe, but I'm your arrogant a.s.s."

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. h.e.l.l, 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?

She leaned forward to frame his face in her hands, glaring into his wounded eyes.

"Don't say that."

"It's true. Mierda." He shuddered, his hands lifting to lightly grasp her wrists. As if he needed to rea.s.sure himself that she was alive and unharmed. "I was so worried you would be lured into a trap and I walked straight into one. And then, when Morton was torturing you with that d.a.m.ned collar ..."

Without thought she leaned forward to halt his pained words with a fierce kiss. She couldn't bear for him to be burdened with regret when he'd done everything possible to keep her safe. But as soon as their mouths connected, the gesture of comfort combusted into something far more intense.

Dangerous.

Hurriedly she jerked back, licking her tingling lips.

"I'm a.s.suming he's dead?"

His brooding gaze remained locked on her mouth. "Yes."

"Good."

There was a short silence as they both savored the thought of Morton dead.

Sophia hoped the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was rotting in h.e.l.l.

At last, Luc slowly smiled. "Of course, there was one good thing about being locked in that bas.e.m.e.nt."

A good thing?

She scowled. "Did you take a blow to the head? That place was a nightmare."

"You risked your life to rescue me," he pointed out softly. "You wouldn't have done that if you didn't still love me."

"I was too weakened to s.h.i.+ft," she lamely tried to argue. "I knew I would need you to kill Morton and get us out of there."

"Liar."

"Luc ..."

Tugging on her wrists, which he still held in a loose grip, he kissed her with an aching tenderness.

"I'm sorry, cara," he whispered against her mouth. "I regret ever deceiving you, and if I could go back in time I would change everything. But all we can do is go forward."

She pulled back to study his somber expression. Deep inside she knew that he hadn't meant to hurt her. At least not intentionally.

He'd come to Chicago as a soldier obeying orders. And like her he'd been knocked off guard by the power of their mating.

Could she truly blame him for being reluctant to confess the truth?

Not that she didn't intend to keep his blunder as ammunition to pull out whenever she screwed up. It was almost like having a Get Out of Jail Free card, she decided.

"You swear never to lie to me again?"

She could feel the tension drain from him at her question, a small smile curving his lips.

"I swear I will never ever give you a reason to regret trusting in me," he hedged, knowing better than to make a promise he could never keep.

A Were who could be trained.

A good sign.

"And you won't interfere when I kick Salvatore's furry a.s.s?"

"He is my king, but you ..." The dark gaze seared over her face, his steadfast love burning like a beacon. "You are my mate."

"Smart Were," she whispered, a delicious warmth spilling through her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Maybe you should remind me why that's a good thing."

"With pleasure." He pressed her back against the pillows, his lips tracing a path of erotic fire down the curve of her neck. "For both of us."'

MURDER ON MYSTERIA LANE.

ANGIE FOX.

CHAPTER 1.