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.”