WHERE DARKNESS LIVES

“Which means you turn into a caveman when you think there’s a damsel in distress that might need your protection.” Her gaze warned him not to even try to deny the truth of her words. “I don’t blame you. It’s all that testosterone rotting your brain.”


As if being drawn by a magnet, his gaze returned to her lips, all too easily imagining the havoc they could wreak as they moved down his body.

“It does more than rot my brain. Do you want me to demonstrate?”





CHAPTER 3





Hell, yeah.

She wanted him to demonstrate so badly she could barely breathe.

Which was exactly why she needed him gone.

Becoming involved with an alpha male was insanity under the best of circumstances.

Add in an unknown maniac trying to kill her, and her wolf’s bizarre need to mark him so that every other female would know he was off-limits, and it became a recipe for disaster.

“See?” she accused as he stroked his lips over her cheek. “Caveman.”

He shifted to nip the lobe of her ear. “There are benefits.”

Oh ... Christ.

She could already feel the benefits. They were melting through her body, making her knees weak and her hips press with restless need against the hard thrust of his growing erection.

In a minute she was going to rip off his clothes and push him onto the ceramic tiles.

Or maybe onto the breakfast table.

She wasn’t particular so long as it was hot and sweaty and lasted until she was too sated to move.

Vivid images of straddling that bronzed, perfect body had her abruptly shoving him away so she could head for the door.

“It’s late, go away,” she muttered, ignoring her wolf, which snarled in frustration.

She didn’t truly expect him to obey her order. Luc was a Were who would do what he wanted, when he wanted. But she hadn’t expected him to actually sweep her off her feet, cradling her against his magnificent chest as he headed toward the nearby stairs.

“What the hell?” she rasped.

“You’re right. It’s late.” He smiled down at her furious expression. “You should be in bed.”

A jolt of white-hot excitement speared through her.

Dammit.

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I won’t hurt you?”

“I’m your bodyguard.” With astonishing ease he carried up the curved steps and down the hall to enter her bedroom. He never paused as he crossed the silver carpet that accented the black and white décor. At last reaching the ebony slipper bed, he laid her on the white and black striped comforter and straightened to study her with a hooded gaze. “It’s my duty to tuck you in.”

She pushed herself into a seated position, leaning against the pile of silver pillows.

“Your duty?”

The dark eyes ran a hungry survey down the length of her body, his own body tense as he struggled to leash the desire pulsing in the air.

“There might be a bit of pleasure mixed in.”

She shivered. Not only from the rough edge in his voice that warned he was holding on by a thread, but by the possessive glow in those dark eyes.

“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?” she breathed.

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t like Neanderthals.”

“I can be as sensitive as the next guy.” His gaze shifted to the expanse of pale skin exposed by her tiny camisole. “With the proper motivation.”

She could physically feel the heat of his gaze, caressing over her with a searing pleasure.

Dammit, why couldn’t he be just another stunningly hot guy whom she could use and abuse and toss aside when she was done?

“You’re going to try to boss me around,” she accused in frustration, “telling me what I can and can’t do—”

“I’m going to keep you alive,” he interrupted.

“I won’t be caged.” She shook her head. “Not again.”

She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her lips, abruptly turning to study the original Rembrandt etchings that hung on her wall.

“Sophia.” She felt the mattress dip beneath Luc’s considerable weight as he perched on the edge of the bed. When she refused to acknowledge his presence, he reached to cup her cheek in his hand and tugged her to meet his searching gaze. “Talk to me.”

“You’ve done your duty, now leave me alone,” she snapped.

His thumb brushed her lower lip. “Sophia.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me why you think I would try to cage you.”

She gave a restless lift of her shoulder. “It’s just an expression.”

“It’s more than that,” he stubbornly insisted. “Tell me.”

“Luc.”

“Please.”

She stilled in surprise. She’d bet her favorite Hermès handbag that this man had never said the P word more than once or twice in his very long existence.

The fact he’d lowered his pride to use it now undermined any hope of resisting his soft plea.

“You know the history of our people,” she hedged, feeling dangerously vulnerable.

“That covers a lot of ground.”