WHERE DARKNESS LIVES

“Making yourself at home?” she drawled, settling on a padded wicker chair.

Efficiently plating a mound of golden scrambled eggs that he covered with his chunky tomato sauce, he crossed to set it in the center of the table. Sophia breathed deeply, catching the spicy aroma of chilies and cumin and chopped oregano.

“You should be thanking me,” he murmured, taking a seat across the small table, his grin distinctly wicked. “I’ve had women begging on their knees for a taste of my huevos rancheros.”

That wasn’t the only thing they begged for, she silently acknowledged, piling her plate high with scrambled eggs before taking a sip of her freshly squeezed orange juice.

Heaven.

She glanced up to catch him watching her with an unreadable expression.

“Shouldn’t you be rigging up my alarm system or something?”

“We need to talk first.” He nodded toward her plate. “Eat.”

She rolled her eyes at his commanding tone. “Are you going to give me a treat if I roll over and play dead?”

His lips twitched. “What do you want from me?”

“Ask me, don’t order me.”

“Do I get credit for not throwing you over my shoulder and hauling you back to bed?” Heat blazed in his eyes as they skimmed down her nearly naked body. “That’s what my inner caveman is urging me to do. And my wolf agrees.”

So did her wolf.

It didn’t mind a bit of caveman.

Not when the end result was some raw, spectacular sex.

She shoveled the eggs into her mouth, barely taking time to savor the bold flavor as she cleaned her plate. Anything to distract her from the aching void between her legs that was becoming nearly unbearable.

Once finished, she pushed away her plate. It really had been delicious and she crankily wondered if there was anything that wasn’t perfect about this Were.

“What do you want to discuss?”

Having polished off his own plate, Luc settled back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

“A party.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to host a party.”

She slowly narrowed her gaze. “What kind of party?”

He gave a sudden laugh. “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

“Now you can read my mind?” she muttered, pretending the maddening image of Luc floating in her hot tub with a covey of water sprites pleasuring his naked body hadn’t just flared through her mind.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching to cover hers. “I told you I’m not into public displays. Especially not when it comes to sex,” he assured her in a voice filled with husky promise. “I like it mano y mano with lots of privacy and lots of time.” The dark eyes flashed with sinful amusement. “And occasionally handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs?” She pretended his light touch wasn’t sending molten need through her veins. “Do you need restraints to acquire your dates? Or to keep them from escaping?”

He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Someday very soon I’ll show you exactly what I do with them.”

With a low groan she snatched her hand away. In a minute she was going to be knocking aside the table and crawling over him like a sex-starved harpy.

“So why do you want me to host a party?”

He shrugged, the amusement lingering in his eyes. “It’s the most convenient way to gather all your neighbors at one time so I can question them.”

“You think they’ll confess to being a homicidal maniac over apple martinis?”

“It’s easier to read people when they’re in a group,” he explained. “If I do door-to-door interviews they’ll be on guard.”

“No shit,” she muttered, her gaze skimming over the heavy muscles of his chest.

Even dressed he would be the sort of unannounced visitor who would make her neighbors hide under their bed and call the cops.

His smile widened. “This way they’ll feel more comfortable.”

“And more likely to give something away?”

“That’s the hope.”

She had to admit it made sense, she acknowledged, rising to her feet.

As he said, her neighbors were more likely to let down their guard during the course of a party. Especially if she could score a bottle of nectar from Troy. A few drops in her guests’ drinks and their inhibitions would be lowered. Perhaps not to the point of revealing their most intimate secrets, but they would be more inclined to “share.”

“Fine.” She cleared her throat as he straightened, his muscles rippling in the afternoon sunlight that slanted through the glass wall. “I’ll send out the invitations.”

“You aren’t really going to serve apple martinis, are you?” he demanded, moving to stand way too close.

“How am I supposed to explain your presence?” she abruptly demanded.

“I’m your latest lover, of course.”

She snorted at his ready suggestion. “You could be my brother. Or the pool boy.”

His hand lifted to skim along her hairline, following the curve of her ear.