“I’m Sophia,” she announced, her head held high. “No man’s going to get me down. Even if he is a lying, mangy piece of shit.”
Troy gave a snap of his fingers, a smile curving his lips. “You go, girl.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Sophia headed for the door, her need to find Luc an overwhelming compulsion.
“Uh, Sophia,” Troy called out.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“If you decide to kill Luc you need to make sure you hide the body,” he warned. “I doubt that your son-in-law would be happy to learn you offed his most trusted soldier.”
A humorless smile curved her lips. “Actually I was thinking I could use a new fur rug in front of my fireplace.”
Troy’s eyes widened. “Yikes.”
Leaving the office, Sophia headed out of the club, her fierce glare keeping the milling employees at bay.
She wasn’t in the mood to deal with clogged drains and missing G-strings.
In fact, the only thing she was in the mood for was blood and mayhem.
Storming out a side door, she was halfway across the parking lot when she heard a faint click. She slowed her furious pace at the same minute she felt a prick in her upper chest. Looking down she realized there was a small dart sticking from her skin.
What the ... ?
That was as far as her confused mind managed to get before her muscles became paralyzed and she was tumbling toward the paved ground. Then her head was smacking face-first into the pavement and the entire world exploded into black.
Waking, Sophia cautiously held herself still as she took stock.
She hadn’t gone to the great kennels in the sky, thank the gods.
She had a throbbing head, and she could feel an odd metal collar strapped around her neck, but the rest of her seemed to be back in working order.
Cautiously she allowed her senses to spread further.
She was in a basement, she realized with a stab of surprise. Or at least underground.
And night had fallen while she had been conked out.
Oh, and the stench of cur was thick in the air.
The same scent she’d caught mere seconds before she’d been shot by the dart.
A growl trickled from her throat as she wrenched open her eyes to discover Morton leaning over her, his face the nasty color of paste in the fluorescent light.
“You.” She surged to a sitting position, barely noticing the narrow cot beneath her as Morton hastily backed away. “Bastard.”
With a visible effort the cur halted his retreat, gathering his shaken courage as he sent her a chiding glare.
“Now, Sophia, I must insist that the mother of my children not use such foul language,” he informed her. “It’s indecent.”
Still weak from whatever poison he’d pumped into her system, Sophia swayed on the edge of the cot, wondering which of them had lost their minds.
She was betting on the cur.
“Mother?” She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Are you mental?”
Pinpricks of crimson flashed through the pale eyes. “Don’t push me.”
Oh, pushing him was going to be the last of the little prick’s concern once she got her strength back, she assured herself, glancing around the six-by-six-foot cell that was paneled with sheets of silver.
“Where are we?”
“My private lair beneath Victoria’s house.” He regained command of his composure, one hand smoothing down his white polo shirt. His other hand held a small device that Sophia suspected was some sort of weapon. “Don’t worry, she knows better than to come down here. We won’t be interrupted.”
Her lip curled in scorn. “Does she suspect that you’re a psychopath?”
She had barely finished her taunt when Morton pressed a button on the device and the collar around her neck began to sizzle. The next thing she knew a massive jolt of electricity speared through her body, nearly toppling her off the cot onto the cement floor.
“Shit,” she breathed.
“I did warn you.”
She clenched her teeth, imagining the pleasure of gutting the pasty-faced cur over and over and over... .
“What do you want with me?”
“I told you,” he scolded. “I’ve chosen you to be the mother of my children.”
“No doubt in your demented mind you think I should be honored by the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a pass.” Her stomach heaved at the mere thought. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Even prepared for the bolt of electricity, Sophia couldn’t halt her yip of pain, her legs trembling and sweat coating her skin.
“You will learn,” Morton growled.
Her hand weakly lifted toward the metal wrapped around her neck.
“Christ, where the hell did you get this thing?”
“I invented it myself,” the cur preened, as if expecting Sophia to admire his handiwork. “Just as I invented the serum that knocked you out. I’m a scientist.”
“So was Dr. Frankenstein,” she muttered. “You know how that turned out.”
Zap.
She leaned down until her forehead touched her knees, fighting against the urge to vomit.
“You will learn to respect me,” Morton abruptly shouted, clearly unhinged by her refusal to play the game by his rules.
Not surprising.
Morton-the-cur was a born victim who had no doubt been bullied and mocked by others his entire life.
“Why?” she demanded. “Because you can create torture devices?”
“That’s merely my hobby.” His smile was edged with a smug pride. “My true genius is chemistry. Which is why Caine hired me.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Caine was currently missing along with her daughter Cassandra.
At one time he’d been under the sway of a demon lord who’d convinced him that he was destined to change curs into pure-blooded Weres.
A part of the prophecy had come true when the same demon lord had taken a path directly through Caine on his way back to hell, transforming him from a cur into a Were.
“You worked with Caine?”
The cur shrugged. “Yes, although we disagreed on how to accomplish our goal to turn curs into pure-blooded Weres.”
“And how did you hope to accomplish such a miracle?”
She expected him to refuse to answer. Weren’t mad scientists usually secretive about their strange experiments?
Instead he answered without hesitation.
“In the same way your king did.”
“I beg your pardon?”