The Real Werewives of Vampire County

by Alexandra Ivy, Angie Fox, Tami Dane, Jess Haines

Genres: Anthologies; Contemporary Romance; Paranormal Romance; Shifters

Synopsis

Drama. Scandal. Secrets. And a whole lot of supernatural goings-on.

Where Darkness Lives by Alexandra Ivy

No one's more surprised than Sophia when she's struck by an unfamiliar maternal urge to move near her daughters. But instead of being greeted by a welcome committee, she's targeted by kidnappers. . .and saddled with a gorgeous bodyguard on a mission to protect--and seduce. . .

Murder On Mysteria Lane by Angie Fox

When a werewolf trophy wife is found dead in Vampire County, Heather McPhee goes undercover to investigate. Heather's never been a mascara-and-manicures sort of girl, but she's willing to learn. Especially with sexy vampire detective Lucien Mead posing as her husband. . .

What's Yours Is Mine by Jess Haines

Still Waters is like many other exclusive gated communities--except that it's home to one of the largest werewolf packs in the state. But Tiffany Winters isn't frightened of her big, bad new neighbors. In fact, she intends to take her place among the pack. . .

Werewolves In Chic Clothing by Tami Dane

Ever since Christine Price moved in with her fiancé, Jonathan, and his twelve year-old son, she's worked hard to fit in with a cadre of local women whose lives seem picture-perfect. Except no one in Jon's upscale neighborhood is quite who they appear to be. Least of all Jon. . .

Release date: November 14, 2013

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 369

Sample

Sophia was a female who took pride in being idolized by her fellow pure-blooded Weres. Why shouldn’t they worship her?

Not only had she managed to produce a litter of four healthy daughters during a time when the Weres were hovering on the brink of extinction, but one daughter, Darcy, had managed to mate with Styx, the King of all Vampires, while another daughter, Regan, had wed Styx’s most trusted vampire guard, Jagr, and a third, Harley, had landed Salvatore as a mate, the current King of Weres.

She was literally choking on royal sons-in-law.

And if that wasn’t enough, her fourth daughter, Cassandra, had been revealed as a prophet, the rarest of all creatures. Although she was currently missing, dammit to hell.

Sophia took equal pride in her reputation as being the “bitch of all bitches.”

It was a reputation she’d worked hard to earn and the primary reason why she’d hesitated before she’d returned to Chicago to purchase the sprawling brick house in the chi-chi neighborhood near the shores of Lake Michigan.

She didn’t want anyone thinking she’d become all mushily maternal in her old age. Okay, she might be secretly delighted that her daughter Harley was expecting her first litter of children. And there might be the teeny-tiniest desire to settle into a lair near her family.

It wasn’t like she was going to sit around knitting booties.

Hell, she’d just opened a high-end strip club with the finest male Were dancers to be found in the Northern Hemisphere. Sophia’s Menagerie would soon be known as the one and only destination for women of discerning taste.

Human or demon.

And of course, she’d already managed to cause a stir among her snotty neighbors.

Without undue vanity she knew she was drop-dead gorgeous.

Her hair was a curtain of pale gold satin that tumbled to the center of her back. Her face was heart-shaped with fragile features that were dominated by a pair of pure green eyes. And her slender body, which was currently attired in skintight leather pants and barely there halter top, could (and often did) stop traffic.

But it was the smoldering sexuality that heated the air around her, along with the predatory hunger in her smile that made the men trip over their tongues when she was near.

And made women detest her on sight.

The flutter over her arrival had definitely added a spice to her move to the stuck-up, overly pretentious gated community.

And earned her an enemy.

Sophia shook off the unwelcome thought as she stomped across the tiled floor of her foyer to yank open one of the double oak doors that was framed by high arched windows.

“Go away,” she growled.

Ignoring her warning, the tall, raven-haired Were attired in a black Gucci suit with a white shirt and blue silk tie brushed past her.

Salvatore, King of all Weres, looked like royalty with his arrogantly handsome features and golden eyes that glowed with the power of his wolf. His hair was slicked into a short tail at his nape, and his lips curved into a sardonic smile.

“Is that any way to greet your favorite son-in-law?” he demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

Sophia planted her hands on her hips, not about to be intimidated. Salvatore might be her king, but she’d already gone above and beyond when it came to duty to her people.

She was done taking orders.

“Have you found Cassandra?” she demanded, referring to her missing daughter.

Salvatore grimaced. “Not yet.”

“Then you’re not my favorite son-in-law and we have nothing to discuss.” She motioned her hand toward the still open door. “Ta-ta.”

“Cristo, Sophia.” Salvatore frowned, his Italian accent more pronounced than usual. “Why will you not be reasonable?”

It was a tediously familiar argument.

“By reasonable I assume you mean, ‘Why won’t I be a good girl and allow myself to be incarcerated in Styx’s dungeon? ’ ”

The king snorted. “Hardly a dungeon. I might not like the leeches, but not even you can deny Styx’s lair is the finest piece of real estate in Chicago. It makes most museums look shabby.”

It was true.

Styx and Darcy’s lair, which was only a few miles to the north, was a sprawling mausoleum filled with acres of marble and gilt and priceless works of art.

Her own home was half the size, but as far as she was concerned it was far superior.

The long sunken living room was decorated in shades of pale gray and silver with a glass wall overlooking the pool and distant tennis courts. The kitchen was large and airy with a breakfast nook and an attached dining room. A curved double staircase led from the foyer to the master suite upstairs, which had a bed large enough to accommodate a football team and a built-in whirlpool that would make any Were purr in pleasure.

And her bathroom . . . it was every woman’s fantasy, with a shower that ran the entire length of one wall, while the tub was deep enough to drown in.

No way in hell was she giving up her comforts to hide in the basement of a leech.

Or at least, that was the story she’d given her daughters when they pleaded for her to join them.

And she was sticking to it.

“It’s cold,” she informed her unwelcome guest. “And it’s crawling with bloodsuckers.”

“Your daughters are all settled in.”

“Good. They need your protection.” She was genuinely relieved to know that Darcy and Harley and Regan were safely hidden. If only Cassandra was with them she could at last breathe easy. “I, however, do not.”

“These are dangerous times, Sophia. Even for a pure-blooded Were.”

She rolled her eyes.

Yeah, King of the Obvious.

There wasn’t a demon alive who wasn’t aware that the Dark Lord was threatening to return from his banishment and unleash all hell. Or that there were all sorts of nasties crawling out of the shadows.

Which was precisely why her daughters were currently being hidden in Styx’s lair.

And why she wasn’t about to put them in any further danger.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for centuries.”

Salvatore studied her stubborn expression.

“You don’t have to anymore,” he said at last, his voice soft. “You have a family.”

Once those words would have given her a rash. Now it made her heart warm with a strange emotion.

Hell, maybe she was getting old.

“A family is like medicine.” She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. “Best in small doses.”

The golden eyes flared as his wolf prowled close to the surface.

“I’m also your king. I could make joining us an order.”

Her smile widened, edged with a warning that made the large predator pale.

“And I could tell Harley about those nymph triplets that you—”

“Fine,” he abruptly interrupted, headed toward the door. “Be careful.”

“What danger could I be in here?”

“Trust me, evil can lurk anywhere.” Salvatore paused on the wide veranda to glance toward the distant homes surrounded by their perfectly manicured grounds. “Even suburbia.”

Sophia managed to hide her tiny shiver.

“Concentrate on finding Cassandra,” she said. “If I need you, I’ll call.”

“Take care of yourself. . . .” Salvatore tossed her a mocking grin. “Granny.”

Sophia narrowed her gaze.

Okay, she might be tickled pink that Harley was pregnant, but there was no way in hell she was putting up with “granny.”

“Call me that again and the litter Harley is carrying will be the last babies you’re capable of producing.”

With a chuckle, Salvatore headed toward his BMW, which was parked next to her low-slung Lamborghini.

Sophia watched his departure with a faint frown.

She hadn’t expected Salvatore to concede defeat so easily.

Which could only mean one thing.

This particular battle wasn’t over.

Sophia’s Menagerie was a two-story brick building that discreetly blended in with the more conservative businesses that lined the quiet Chicago street.

Once inside, however, there was nothing discreet about the crimson carpet and shimmering gold wallpaper. Or the Venetian chandeliers that spilled light over the padded booths that were arranged to face the low stage.

There was an atmosphere of indulgent luxury that lifted her club above all others.

Well, that and the insanely gorgeous male strippers who could send an entire audience of women into a frenzy of screaming excitement.

Entering through the back door, Sophia made her way past the dressing rooms to the main floor, a satisfied smile curling her lips as her employees scurried about, preparing for the upcoming flood of customers.

This place might be just another strip club to some people, but for her it was her tangible display of independence.

She halted a moment to appreciate the sight of Dmitri and Dominic practicing their dance routine. The twin Weres had recently immigrated from Russia and were so exquisitely handsome it was a wonder they hadn’t melted Siberia.

Tall and slender with short, spiky blond hair and ice-blue eyes, they moved with the liquid grace of all pure-bloods. Combine that with the tiny fur G-strings that were the only thing covering their pale, perfect bodies ... yummy.

Then her smile twisted as she caught sight of the man standing near the edge of the stage, his hand reaching toward Dmitri. Or was it Dominic?

Troy, prince of imps, was a large, muscular man with the build of a professional wrestler and the fashion taste of a drag queen. At the moment he was attired in silver spandex pants and a see-through jade shirt that gave a nice glimpse of his broad chest.

His long, brilliant red hair flowed down his back like a river of fire and his emerald eyes danced with a wicked sense of humor that was contagious.

He was like an exotic butterfly that oozed a blatant sensuality.

“Mmm . . .” he drawled as Sophia halted next to him, his gaze never wavering from the nearby dancers. “Delectable as always, my love.”

Reaching out she slapped his hand. “No touching the merchandise, Troy.”

The imp pouted, but, dropping his arm, he turned to face her. “But you know how I love them tall, blond, and furry.”

“You love them any way you can get them.”

“True.” Troy ran his hands down his shirt, licking his lips. “A wise imp swims with the tide.”

She snorted. Troy did a lot of swimming with the tide. Which, of course, meant that he had connections throughout the demon world.

And that was precisely why Sophia had contacted him a few days before.

“Did you bring what I asked?”

With a chuckle that should have given her ample warning, he gave a lift of his hand, motioning toward a nearby doorway.

“Don’t I always deliver?”

Her lips parted, but her words were forgotten as a man stepped from the shadows.

No, not a man . . . a pure-blooded Were, she quickly corrected, catching the feral scent of his wolf. And so sinfully gorgeous that he made her heart slam against her ribs.

She covertly clenched her hands as he strolled forward. What the hell was wrong with her?

Her entire life had been filled with handsome, powerful men. All of them anxious for the opportunity to impress her. Whether it was to earn the right to breed with her. Or just to enjoy a few wicked nights of pleasure.

But she couldn’t recall ever feeling as if she’d just stepped off the edge of a cliff and was plummeting through thin air.

Was that why she couldn’t breathe?

More than a little disturbed by her unwelcome reaction, she warily studied the stranger.

He was handsome, but it wasn’t the polished elegance of her dancers.

The blue-black hair was cut short, as if he couldn’t be bothered to mess with it, but the severe style only emphasized the stark male beauty of his face. His skin was the rich bronze that came from Latin heat and his eyes more black than brown.

He was taller than her, perhaps six foot, but he was thick with muscles that rippled beneath the skintight black T-shirt that was matched with a pair of black combat pants.

Ruthless.

The word whispered through her mind at the same moment his potent heat wrapped around her, inflaming her blood with a pulsing awareness she hadn’t felt in decades.

“Good . . . God,” she muttered.

Troy cleared his throat, doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amusement.

Jackass.

“Sophia, this is Luc. Luc, Sophia.” The imp waved a languid hand toward the massive Were. “Isn’t he just to die for?”

Sophia’s gaze clashed with the burning black gaze, her skin suddenly feeling too tight for her body.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This Were was trouble with a capital T and the very last thing she needed.

Tilting her chin, she allowed her gaze to slowly skim over the body that begged to be licked from head to toe, deliberately allowing her lips to curl into a sneer.

Neanderthals like this were always hyperarrogant. An insult to his pride and he’d be out the door right quick and in a hurry.

“I asked for a bodyguard, not a stripper wannabe,” she mocked.

The dark eyes narrowed, but instead of the chest-thumping and the fast exit she’d been hoping for, he stepped even closer, the rich scent of male musk teasing at her senses.

“Good, because I’m not into public displays.” His voice slid over her like hot chocolate, smoothly decadent. “Of course, if you want a private performance you could ask me nicely.”

Oh, she wasn’t going there.

Not even in her mind.

“What I want is protection, not another pretty boy,” she said between clenched teeth, shoving her hands against his chest as she prepared to leave.

Let Troy deal with the muscle-bound fool. She was through.

Only she wasn’t.

Even as her palms slammed against his chest, his fingers captured her wrists in an unbreakable grip. At the same time he was spinning her around, jerking her until her back was pressed hard against his chest and pinning her arms across her chest.

“I know what you want,” he growled, his face buried against her neck left bare by her red halter top.

She shivered, telling herself it was outrage at being manhandled and not white-hot excitement at the brush of his warm breath over skin or the feel of his body pressed so intimately against her.

“I’ll let you two play.” Troy chuckled, wiggling his fingers as he moved past them. “Ciao.”

“Troy,” she snapped in disbelief. Surely the imp didn’t intend to leave her alone with this ... psychopath?

Evidently he did.

“Don’t worry, I’ll send you my bill,” he assured her, sashaying out the door.

“Idiot,” she muttered, her wolf prowling restlessly just below the surface. It wasn’t angry, it was ... on edge. As if it sensed something momentous was about to happen. Which was as disturbing as the ease with which he’d captured her.

“Can we talk now?” he asked softly.

“Not until you let go of me.”

“If you insist,” he taunted, his lips brushing against the pounding pulse at the base of her throat before he slowly released his grip.

Holding her head high, Sophia refused to glance in his direction, instead heading across the crimson carpet.

“We’ll finish this in the privacy of my office.”

She sensed him fall into step behind her. “You’re the boss.”

“Actually, that has yet to be decided.”

Despite his bulging muscles and impressive fighting skills, Luc wasn’t stupid. Hell, until this moment he’d always prided himself on being the most intelligent Were in the room.

Now he had to wonder if he’d left his brain back in Miami.

Not that it was entirely his fault, he swiftly assured himself, his gaze trained on the finest ass he’d ever set eyes on as it swayed across the room. A man would have to be a saint to think clearly when face-to-face with Sophia.

Even warned of her lethal beauty, he’d been stunned by his first glance at the delicate features that looked as if she was barely out of her adolescent years and her slender body that was shown to advantage in her leather pants and tiny halter top.

He’d expected a hard, jaded female who would turn him off with her bloated conceit. Not an exquisite woman who attempted to hide her vulnerability behind a brittle shell. Or one whose emerald eyes held a haunted fear.

The man in him wanted to haul her into the nearest bed and teach her the true meaning of howling at the moon. The wolf in him wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her to the safety of his lair.

It was his wolf ’s reaction that was most troubling.

Lust he could handle.

But possession?

It was addling his wits and jeopardizing his mission.

Grimly he shoved aside the disquieting thought.

He was here with a purpose. It was time to get on with it.

Following her into the private office, he reached to pull out the folded sheets of paper he’d tucked into his back pocket. His first order of business was making sure he was hired as Sophia’s bodyguard.

Of course, he wouldn’t say no to an invitation for a more ... intimate arrangement, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

It would certainly make it easier to keep an eye on her.

His eye and so much more ...

His cock hardened and with a muttered curse he turned his attention to his surroundings. Anything to keep himself from pouncing on Sophia and spreading her across the wide walnut desk.

The room was spacious with wooden shelves along one wall that held a stunning collection of priceless Fabergé eggs. Across the room a marble fireplace was framed by two cream leather wing chairs that matched the low sofa beneath the window. The floor was covered by a Persian carpet. And the drapes were a soft peach velvet.

He wasn’t surprised by the muted elegance of the room.

Although Sophia was currently dressed like a biker chick, she possessed an air of sophistication that was as much a part of her as the smoldering sexuality.

A lethal combination.

Directly on her tail, Luc smiled wryly as she hastily moved to put the desk between them, turning to send him a glare of frustration.

He wasn’t the only one battling an unwelcome attraction.

Idiotically pleased by her reaction, he tossed the papers on the desk.

“Here.”

With a frown she leaned forward, studying the papers without actually touching them. Did she fear they might bite?

“What’s this?”

“My references.”

She skimmed the top page, her head abruptly lifting. “Miami?”

“Fun in the sun,” he murmured. “You should give it a try.”

“I’ve been to Miami.”

“Not recently,” he said with absolute confidence, his gaze gliding over her milky white skin. Would it taste like cream? “I would have known if you were in my city.”

“Your city?”

“Mine.”

She studied him with a blatant suspicion. “If you’re such a big shot in Miami, why would you want to travel to Chicago to become a hired thug?”

He shrugged. “It suits me to be out of Florida for a few weeks.”

The emerald eyes hardened. “Female trouble?”

“Does it matter?” he demanded. “The imp put out the word that he was willing to pay top dollar for a seasoned bodyguard. I’m the best there is. End of story.”

“No, it’s not the end.” She tossed his glowing references in the trash. No doubt where they belonged. He’d forged them on his way to Chicago. “I’m a long way from hiring you.”

He moved to perch on the corner of the desk, folding his arms over his chest.

“What’s the problem?”

“You aren’t what I need.”

A small smile curved his lips. She sounded ... petulant. “Do you even know what you need, Sophia?”

Her jaw tightened. “I know what I don’t need. A conceited ass who pisses me off.”

He battled back his wolf. Now wasn’t the time to prove he was a dominant male who was worthy of her respect.

He needed Sophia to believe that she was in charge.

“The imp wouldn’t have chosen me if I wasn’t the best at what I do, would he?”

Her lips thinned. “There’s more to being a bodyguard than just muscle and fighting skills. I need someone who can blend into the background.”

“I can blend.”

“Is that a joke?” She threw her hands in the air. “You look like you should be invading a small country.”

He glanced down at his black T-shirt and pants. He’d deliberately left his Glock and two Uzis in the car. Of course, he had his handy-dandy S & W tucked in a holster at the small of his back.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that you’re not right for the job.” With a lift of her chin, she rounded the desk and headed for the door. “Sorry.”

With a speed that was shocking even for a pure-blooded Were, Luc reached out to snag her arm, twirling her around so she was standing between his spread legs.

They were nose to nose, electricity crackling in the air between them.

A heady combination of aggression and pure sex.

“You know what I think?” His voice was husky.

She could have broken his grip. He might be physically stronger, but she wasn’t helpless. Everyone knew there was nothing more dangerous than a pissed-off female Were.

Instead she met him glare for glare.

“I don’t care.”

“I think you’re scared.”

She stiffened, her eyes glowing with emerald fire.

“Let. Go.”

“You’re scared because you want me.”

She wanted to deny the truth of his words. He could read it on her exquisite face. But she wasn’t stupid. Even if he couldn’t feel her telltale shivers at his touch, or see the way her eyes dilated when they slid down his body, he could scent her arousal.

“I’ve wanted—and had—countless men over the years,” she informed him. “Big deal.”

He growled, his wolf not pleased at the thought of her with another lover.

“You’ve never had a man like me—” he started to assure her, abruptly freezing as he caught the flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. A scope reflecting in the sunlight. “Mierda.”

Acting on pure reflex, Luc shoved Sophia to the ground and landed on top of her, covering her with his larger body.

She cursed, but before she could try to throw him off, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room, followed by an explosion of splintering glass.

Luc remained motionless, waiting for another shot. When nothing happened, he at last pulled back to run a searching gaze over Sophia’s pale face.

“Are you hurt?” he growled.

She gave a shake of her head. “No.”

“Good.” With one fluid motion he was on his feet and sprinting to leap through the broken window. “Stay here.”

Stay here.

The damned Were was delusional if he thought he could order her around like a pet dog, Sophia told herself, swiftly rising to her feet and following him through the shattered window.

Okay, he’d saved her life. And while it annoyed the hell out of her that she’d needed his protection, she was willing to offer her gratitude.

But that didn’t mean he was going to go around snapping out commands and expecting her to obey.

Some bastard had just tried to kill her and she was going to find who the hell it was.

Then she was going to rip out their heart and feed it to the vultures.

Or at least that was the plan.

Managing to get through the window without slicing open a major artery, Sophia paused as she realized that Luc had already crossed the street and entered the three-storied brick office building.

Holy shit, he was fast.

And wicked strong.

And so gloriously, spectacularly male that he made her ache in all the right places.

Which, of course, was why she was so twitchy when he was near. And why she was so reluctant to hire him as her bodyguard.

Even if she would rather bite off her tongue than admit it.

Realizing that the gunshot had already attracted unwelcome attention, Sophia forced herself to walk at a steady pace across the street and into the building where the shooter must have taken aim at her. Humans were always so easily spooked. A few gunshots, even when they weren’t the target, and they were ready to panic.

It made her long to shift and really give them something to fear.

Muttering beneath her breath at the realization that her attacker could be halfway to St. Louis by now, she pulled open the glass door and entered the empty lobby.

Cautiously she sniffed the air, catching Luc’s enticing scent that blended with the humans that filled the building. But there was no hint of another demon in the area.

Could it have been a mortal who had taken a shot at her?

Puzzled, Sophia ignored the bank of elevators and pulled open the door to the stairwell. She hesitated only long enough to make certain nothing was lurking in the shadows before moving up the metal steps tucked against the wall.

She had only a second of warning before Luc was vaulting from the top floor to land directly before her.

Show-off, she silently muttered, even as her blood stirred at the grace of his movements and the power of his male body.

Then, reluctantly lifting her gaze from the impressive width of his shoulders, she met his burning black glare.

“What part of ‘stay here’ don’t you understand?” he snapped, his voice pitched to ensure it wouldn’t echo.

She slapped her hands onto her hips. “I’m the boss here and I don’t take orders from you.” Her expression hardened. “Or anyone.”

“Surprise me,” he muttered.

“What?”

“It’s my job to protect you,” he growled, stepping so close that his heat seared over her skin. “And if that means giving you orders then you’ll obey them. Got it?”

“Why you . . .”

Brushing past him, she headed up the stairs. She bypassed the second floor, knowing from the angle of the bullet currently lodged in her desk that it must have been fired from the third floor. Personally she preferred her kills to be up close and personal, but she was a trained marksman.

Continuing upward, she sensed Luc directly behind her.

Hell, she more than sensed him. The pinpricks of his anger were biting into her skin, warning that his wolf was prowling close to the surface.

A powerful wolf, she inanely acknowledged.

One that was more than a match for her own.

Trying to shake off her distraction at his proximity, Sophia halted on the top floor landing. Before she could reach for the doorknob, however, there was a faint squeak on a stair below them.

The sound had barely reached her ears when Luc had her shoved up against the wall, caging her with his larger body. At the same time there was the deafening crack of a gunshot followed by a nerve-shredding screech as a bullet pierced the thin sheet of metal exactly where they’d been standing less than a second before.

“Por Dios.” Pushing back, Luc ran a searching gaze over her tense form. Once assured she was injury-free, he moved to glance over the railing. “Stay here.” He turned his head back to glare at her with eyes that were more wolf than human. “This time you’ll do as I say or I’ll handcuff you to the door. Got it?”

Without bothering to wait for her response, the idiot was leaping down the stairs, pursuing their trigger-happy attacker with a reckless disregard for sanity, self-preservation, and the basic laws of gravity.

Not that she should bother being worried.

Luc was obviously a trained thug who probably spent a large portion of his day chasing after crazies. If he wanted to take a bullet or two to prove he was a big, strong Were, then let him.

Except he had saved her life, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Twice.

She at least owed him a thank-you before he got himself offed, didn’t she?

That was the only reason she was pacing the cramped landing instead of returning to her club and getting on with her day.

“Pain in the ass,” she muttered beneath her breath, her head snapping around as Luc jogged easily up the stairs.

“Were you saying something?” he asked, a faint smile toying at the edges of his mouth.

She ran a swift gaze over his magnificent body, refusing to allow herself to linger on the rippling muscles and the broad shoulders that were displayed to perfection by the tight T-shirt.

He was unharmed.

That was all that mattered.

“Did you find the shooter?”

“Nothing.” His jaw clenched with frustration. “Whoever it was managed to enter and leave the building without leaving a trace.”

“A witch?”

“Impossible to say without further information.” He shrugged. “I’ll do a more thorough search when the building closes for the night.”

She cleared her throat. “I haven’t thanked you.”

Expecting him to gloat, Sophia was caught off guard when he abruptly stepped forward, grasping her upper arms as he regarded her with a fierce glare.

“I don’t want you to thank me, Sophia. I want you to let me do my job.”

She shivered as the heat of his hands seared against her bare skin, her wolf growling in low approval.

Traitor.

“I haven’t given you the job.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard any number of rumors about you, but none of them mentioned that you were stupid.”

She stiffened. Until this moment s. . .