WHERE DARKNESS LIVES

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.