Of course, a female Were was equally perilous.
Tugging out of his grasp, Sophia turned to stab him with a furious glare.
“Are you demented?” she hissed.
“Odd.” His lips twisted. “That question has been running through my mind with growing frequency.” He nodded toward the fleeing imp. “Who was that?”
“My liquor distributor, who was giving me a very sweet deal until you came stomping over here like Conan the Barbarian,” she rasped. “What were you doing?”
Ah, now that was a loaded question.
For the past centuries Weres hadn’t been jealous creatures. The overriding need to produce children had destroyed the instinct to find that one special companion.
Was it any wonder he was as baffled as Sophia by his urgent desire to make certain that every male in Chicago understood this woman was his property?
“Have you considered the fact that you opened this club at the same time you moved into your new house?” he hastily improvised.
“So?”
He waved a hand toward the stage where yet another overly pretty Were was stripping off his clothes.
“So your mysterious stalker might be someone you met here.”
Her lips tightened, but it was obvious that she was considering his words.
“And how does pounding your chest and publicly branding me as your latest bimbo help?”
His brows lifted. “Bimbo?”
“Don’t push me.”
He shrugged. “Now everyone knows they have to go through me to get to you.”
“Great.” She didn’t appear particularly pleased by his logic. “What if they decide to lie low until you leave? Then I’m back to where I started.”
“But I’m not leaving,” he assured her, moving forward to trace the line of her stubborn jaw. “Not until I’m absolutely certain you’re safe.”
Perhaps sensing that nothing short of death was going to pry him from her side, she heaved a sigh, her gaze shifting to the horde of females who were studying him with a rapt attention that was intended to be reserved for the entertainment.
“So much for blending in,” she gave in with a sour frown.
He smiled, his finger lowering to follow the plunging neckline of her silk jacket.
“You were right to begin with,” he murmured, his voice thickening as she gave a small shiver of pleasure. “I don’t blend.”
CHAPTER 5
The human caterers had arrived precisely at eight to transform the back patio into the predictable cliché of an oriental paradise.
Paper lanterns were glowing near the pool. Black and red tablecloths covered the long buffet tables that were lined with platters of sushi. And cheesy silk fans had been placed on every chair to be given as party favors.
Not Sophia’s usual style.
She preferred champagne and caviar.
But considering one of her guests was quite likely trying to kill her, this was as good as it was going to get.
She did, however, manage to get her hands on the nectar she needed, and liberally dousing the drinks of the nymph and her cur lover, as well the vampire, she’d done her best to ensure that the party wasn’t a complete flop.
Not that it was necessary, she sourly acknowledged, watching the flock of women fluttering around Luc like bees to honey.
But then, why wouldn’t they flutter?
He looked like a bronzed god stretched on a lounge chair beside the pool wearing nothing more than a black Speedo that left nothing to the imagination.
The half dozen female mortals were so enthralled by the sight they were actually kneeling next to the chaise, as if they were worshipping him, while the dark-haired vampire with brown eyes and pale, pale skin had planted her ass on the edge of the chair, leaning forward as if afraid that Luc had missed the pair of boobs she had barely covered in a scarlet bikini.
Whose stupid idea was it to make this a pool party? she wondered in disgust.
Oh yeah, hers.
And why?
Because of the damned Were who had spent the past four days practically ignoring her.
Standing near the French doors that led to her kitchen, Sophia heaved out a frustrated sigh.
She supposed she should be pleased.
Hadn’t she made it clear she had no intention in sharing her bed? Or her body?
But after the alarm system had been professionally installed, and Luc had moved into the guest room down the hall, she hadn’t been nearly so relieved as she should have been. And she’d been even less relieved when he began disappearing for hours on end, popping in and out without warning.
Was he hunting for her mysterious stalker? Or had the fact that there hadn’t been any more attacks given him the excuse to find another woman to ease his lust?
She told herself she didn’t give a damn even as she’d abruptly decided to hold the party by the pool. Why not show off her new hot pink Dolce and Gabbana bikini? But even as she sent out the invitations she’d suspected that her reasons were a lot less about vanity and a lot more about Luc.
Stupid werewolf.
Sipping her apple martini while she imagined the pleasure of shifting so she could more easily rip out the throats of the twits paying homage to the man driving her nuts, Sophia abruptly caught a whiff of an approaching nymph.
Turning her head, she watched the auburn-haired woman with smoke-gray eyes halt at her side.
Victoria was lushly curved like most nymphs and at the moment was displaying those curves to full advantage in a black strapless one-piece swimsuit that was cut down to her navel.
The female smiled as her gaze shifted toward Luc. “You never mentioned that you had a lover.”
Sophia barely swallowed her snarl.
Get it together, Sophia, she silently chided herself.
The opportunity to question this female was precisely why she’d agreed to hold this stupid party.
“My private relations are just that... .” She pinned a cold smile to her lips. “Private.”
“If you wanted privacy then you should never have moved into this neighborhood,” the nymph drawled. “We are incurably curious and far more interested in one another’s lives than our own.”
“Isn’t that a little pathetic?”
“Perhaps.” A sly expression crossed the nymph’s pretty face. “Of course, I do understand your reluctance to share. He’s yummy.”
“Obviously you’re not the only one who thinks so,” Sophia snapped as Kirsten ran a provocative finger down Luc’s bare chest.
Victoria wrinkled her nose. “That vampire should be staked and left for the sun.”