“Yes.”
He studied her in silence, his fingers continuing to wreak havoc with her senses as they stroked along her cheek and then tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear.
“How many children did you lose?”
She flinched at the low question. “Hundreds.”
“Oh ... cara.”
Her eyes lowered, unable to bear the sympathy gleaming in the dark eyes.
“I swore I was done when Salvatore convinced me to try one more time.” Her gut knotted. She wanted to forget those days of being nothing more than a breeding machine, expected to try and carry a litter year after endless year. “He wanted to alter the DNA of my babies so they couldn’t shift and would be more likely to carry a child to full-term.”
“And spare them the pain you endured.”
Her lips twisted. “That was the plan.”
“And it worked.” There was an unmistakable pride in his voice. “The entire Were nation celebrated your four miraculous daughters.”
“Who were promptly stolen from the nursery,” she reminded him, unwilling to reveal her confusion of emotions when she’d manage to produce her daughters, only to have them disappear. The anger, the dread, the overriding fear that made her emotionally distance herself from the children whom she’d never been allowed to hold in her arms. “I spent the past thirty years searching for my daughters.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s ‘me time.’ ” She met his steady gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “No responsibilities, no one depending on me, no one trying to control me. Got it?”
Luc got it.
He really did.
This female had spent her entire life with the fate of her people resting on her shoulders.
Was it any wonder she was so skeevy to maintain her independence?
Unfortunately she was in danger.
And even if he wasn’t plagued by an ever-increasing need to protect her, he would be bound by his duty to keep her safe.
Regardless if it meant forcing her to accept his help.
And making an enemy of her in the bargain.
He hissed at the strangely painful thought, his hand shifting to trace the line of her slender throat.
“I got it, cara,” he gently assured her, “but it doesn’t change the fact that someone’s trying to hurt you.”
She made a sound of annoyance. “Which is why I hired a bodyguard.”
He smiled, his wolf smug as she allowed his fingers to savor the satin skin of her neck.
It was an intimate touch that spoke of trust. And to his wolf ... possession.
“So at least you agree that I’m hired?”
“I suppose,” she muttered. “God only knows what Troy would come up with next.”
“Good.” He ignored her blatant lack of enthusiasm. Once he was certain she was safe, he would concentrate on teaching her the pleasure of having him as her personal bodyguard. “Then tomorrow you pack a bag.”
He felt her heart leap beneath his fingers. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m taking you to Miami.”
She swore, batting away his hand as her eyes glowed with a dangerous power.
“No way in hell.”
He swallowed his growl at her direct challenge. It was time for reasoning with the female, not ... what had she said? Going caveman on her?
“Once I know you’re out of the line of fire, I can concentrate on locating your homicidal neighbor.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“No,” she repeated, an edge of finality in her voice. “I just moved into this house and started my business. I’m not going to run and hide like a gutless mist sprite.”
“It would only be for a few days.”
“You can’t know that.” She held his gaze, silently warning him she wouldn’t be screwed with. “It could take you weeks or even months.”
His teeth clenched. “Then stay with one of your daughters until I’ve cleared up this mess.”
“And put them in even more danger?” She shook her head. “No way.”
His fingers encircled her neck, not in a threat, just an expression of frustration.
“You are ...”
“The boss.”
Their gazes clashed and Luc swiftly shifted through his limited options.
He could physically force her to go to Miami. He had the brute strength and the training necessary to manhandle all but the king.
But even as the thought raced through his mind, he was dismissing it.
He knew without a doubt that turning her into his virtual prisoner, even if it was for her own good, would break something fragile inside her.
“Obstinada,” he breathed, leaning down to yank off his boots.
Then, ignoring her sudden scowl, he rose from the bed to strip off his T-shirt. He had tugged off his belt and was unzipping his pants when she found her voice.
“If you’re auditioning for a position at my club, I have to warn you we only take experienced dancers,” she rasped.
He shrugged, pulling down his pants and kicking them aside to stand in nothing but his black satin boxers.
“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed ...”
“Then he gets kicked in his nuts?”
He stretched out on the mattress beside her, hiding a smile as he caught her covert gaze ogling his thickly muscled legs before lifting to linger on the broad expanse of his chest.
She might want him gone, but that didn’t keep her from lusting after his body.
And frankly he was good with that.
For now.
“I can’t protect you if I’m not close to you.”
“That doesn’t include sharing my bed.”
“As a matter of fact it does.” Lying on his back, he tucked his hands behind his head. “At least until I get a security system set up.”
She bent over him, her expression hard even if she couldn’t disguise the scent of her smoldering arousal.
“If you have to stay, then you can sleep in another room.”
“Too far.”
“Then use the chair.” She pointed toward the charcoal-gray chair set next to the window. “There’s an extra blanket in the closet.”
“What’s wrong, Sophia?” he teased. “Afraid you can’t keep yourself from jumping me in my sleep?”
Unexpectedly the emerald eyes darkened, as if he’d injured her.
“Despite the rumors you claim to have heard about me, I don’t spread my legs for every man who crosses my path,” she said stiffly.
Dios.