“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?
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 reassure 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 damned 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 assuming 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 bastard was rotting in hell.
At last, Luc slowly smiled. “Of course, there was one good thing about being locked in that basement.”
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 shift,” 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 ass?”
“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
Last time I got stuck in a graveyard after dark, I missed the final episode of Lost. This time, an immense werewolf leveled a shotgun at my nose.
I could smell the sharp tang of gun oil in the dry desert air.
“Heather McPhee”—he cocked his weapon—“I order you to halt!”
“You and what army?” I came up short, less than an inch from the double barrel. You really could poke an eye out with that thing. My gray cargo pants clanked with handcuffs, a stun gun, mace, two fixed-blade daggers, and of course my lucky boot knife.