The Real Werewives of Vampire County

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

  “I’ll admit that it’s been a concern,” he said. “I hated the thought of holding you prisoner down here for months, perhaps even years. I’m not a monster, after all.”

  She choked back a laugh at his seeming sincerity. “You could have fooled me.”

  He ignored her response, moving toward the small stool in the corner of the barren cell to pick up a heavy leather glove.

  “Then a solution literally dropped in my lap.”

  Sophia’s wolf was on full alert although the serum still pumping through her bloodstream refused to allow her to shift.

  “What solution?”

  Using his gloved hand, the cur reached for the small handle on the wall, pulling back the silver panel to reveal that the cell was divided in two.

  Sophia hissed in sudden horror as she caught sight of the dark Were lying unconscious on the floor, a silver collar around his neck that was attached to the heavy chain bolted to the wall.

  Luc.

  Stupidly she’d assumed that he was waiting for her at her home. Perhaps even now wondering why she was so late.

  For a moment panic threatened to consume her.

  He might be a deceitful bastard who had broken her heart, but the thought that he might be dead was enough to send a crippling agony through her.

  Then through her pain, she detected the unmistakable beat of his heart.

  Oh ... thank the gods.

  He was alive.

  She turned her head to stab the cur with a fierce glare. “What have you done to him?”

  “I gave him the same drug I used on you, although in a considerably larger dose.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’ll eventually wake up.”

  Sophia sensed the sudden increase in Luc’s heartbeat.

  He was awake, she abruptly realized, but feigning unconsciousness. A task made possible by Morton’s inferior senses.

  She smoothed her expression, inwardly gathering her strength. Although she was still weak, she knew she would have to strike swiftly. The amount of silver in the room would drain what little power she had remaining in a matter of hours.

  “What’s the point of holding him prisoner?” she demanded. “I’m fairly certain he can’t carry your litter.”

  “My first thought was to kill him,” he admitted, his voice revealing his deep regret in being denied the pleasure. “Not only because I knew that he’d be a threat to my plans, but because he’s a genuine pain in the ass.” He heaved a sigh. “Then I realized he could be my assurance for your good behavior.”

  Shit.

  With an effort, she forced herself to pretend confusion as she shakily rose to her feet. She needed to distract him just long enough to get that damned device out of his hand.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’m not blind.” His lips thinned in revulsion. “I saw how you watched him during your party.”

  “He’s gorgeous.” She shrugged. “How could I not watch him?”

  “You care for him,” he insisted, the crimson flickering in his eyes. “Which means you’ll do whatever I ask to make sure he eventually gets out of this basement alive.”

  “You’re right.” She gave a wave of her hand to distract from her covert step forward.

  He sniffed. “Of course I am.”

  “You’re right that I did care for him.” Another wave, another step. “Past tense.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then call Troy.”

  He frowned. “The imp?”

  “Yep.” She turned to glare at the unmoving Were, not having to feign her simmering anger. “Right before you went all Man vs. Wild on me in the parking lot, he revealed that Luc had lied to me.”

  Watching him with an eagle eye, she easily caught the faint twitch of his ears.

  Guilty conscience?

  Or annoyance at having been busted?

  “What was the lie?” Morton wanted to know.

  She pointed a finger toward Luc, again taking a step forward. Just a few more feet and she would be close enough to knock his ass to the ground.

  She didn’t have a plan after that, but she was willing to play it by ear.

  “He’s not a bodyguard like he told me,” she revealed. “He’s a right-hand man to Salvatore and he was sent to Chicago to spy on me.”

  Morton scowled, obviously reluctant to believe her. Her outrage at Luc’s betrayal did, after all, ruin his diabolical plans. But even a stupid cur could sense the sincerity of her angry words.

  “Why would the king wish to spy on you?”

  “He obviously believes I’m too stupid to make my own decisions,” she snapped. “An opinion shared by that Were lying on the floor.” She moved toward the cur, keeping her steps slow and unsteady, as if she was having trouble with her balance. “So if you hope to use him as a bargaining chip then you’re shit out of luck, because as far as I’m concerned you can dig his grave and toss him in.”

  “No.” Morton pressed his gloved hand to his forehead. “You’re trying to confuse me.”

  “What’s confusing?” With another step she was able to reach out and grab his white polo shirt, giving him a small shake. “Where’s your gun? I’ll shoot him myself.”

  “Stop... .” He regarded her in puzzlement, unaware of his danger. “Don’t do this... .”

  Knowing she’d only have one shot at escape, Sophia pulled back her arm and smashed her fist into his face with enough force to make him fly across the cell and smack into the far wall.

  If she’d been at full strength, the bastard would have been dead.

  As it was, he was only knocked loopy.

  With her heart lodged in her throat, Sophia darted toward Luc, who was on his feet, regarding her with a burning black gaze.

  She didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know he was furious she was trying to rescue him rather than escaping.

  Ignoring the massive fangs he bared as she knelt beside him, she clamped her hands around the silver collar. The silver seared into her skin, burning away the flesh, but there was no time to search for a key.

  Already she could feel Morton stirring.

  Luc growled, using his large head to try and push her away, but she held on. She could feel the silver stretching and weakening beneath her powerful tugs. Just a few more seconds and she’d be able to snap it in half.

  The prickle on her neck was the only warning before a bolt of electricity shot through her body. She screamed, her back bowing beneath the impact, but grimly ignoring the brutal pain she continued to pull at the collar.

  Distantly she was aware of Luc’s furious growls and yet more lightning dancing down her spine. Christ. She was about to black out.

  Again.

  Out of time, Sophia gave one more massive tug, not certain if she actually felt the collar snap beneath her grip, but there was no mistaking the sensation of Luc’s massive body brushing past her as he launched himself forward or the shrill screams of Morton.

  Death screams.

  CHAPTER 9

  Once again Sophia was struggling out of a blanket of darkness.

  This time it took only moments to realize she was lying on her own bed wearing a clean camisole and silk shorts. And that she wasn’t alone.

  Luc filled the room with his presence.

  The rich, male scent. The restless power of his wolf.

  And above all, the prickling awareness that set her blood on fire.

  For a crazed moment she felt an overwhelming surge of relief at the knowledge that they had both survived the basement from hell and that they were seemingly safe from Morton the crazy-ass cur.

  Then she abruptly remembered that Luc was a total creep who’d played her for a fool.

  And that she wanted to kick him in the nuts, not shiver in pleasure as he settled on the mattress beside her reclined body and gently tucked a curl behind her ear.

  “Sophia?” he murmured softly. “I know you’re awake.”

  She kept her eyes squeezed shut. M
aturity was highly overrated.

  “Go away.”

  “No.”

  She heaved an aggravated sigh. “I hate you.”

  He trailed his fingers down the stubborn line of her jaw. “Sophia, open your eyes.”

  “Will you go away if I do?”

  “No.”

  “What if I get a gun and shoot you?”

  He chuckled, his fingers shifting to outline the curve of her lower lip.

  “You won’t shoot me.”

  Her eyes snapped open. How else could she glare into his handsome face?

  Unfortunately, she also managed to catch a glimpse of his broad shoulders and the chiseled muscles of his chest that were perfectly outlined by his tight black T-shirt.

  Dear gods, but he was gorgeous.

  Edible.

  Treacherous, unwelcome heat curled through the pit of her stomach.

  “Why won’t I?” she asked between clenched teeth.

  A smile teased at his lips, but the dark eyes remained watchful. Wary.

  “Because you love me.”

  She stiffened at the accusation. “Arrogant ass.”

  “Maybe, but I’m your arrogant ass.”

  With a curse, Sophia scooted until she was leaning against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, pleased to discover that her wounds were completely healed.

  She could feel Luc’s gaze skim down her half-naked body with a tangible hunger, but she resisted the urge to crawl beneath the covers.

  She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still disturb her.

  “Do you really think that I’m going to forgive and forget that you came to me under false pretenses?” she rasped. “That you climbed into my bed with lies? And that even after we ...”

  “We what?” he prompted as her words broke off.

  “Supposedly mated.”

  His jaw clenched, his power thickening the air. “There’s no ‘supposed’ about it, Sophia. We are most definitely mated.”

  She ignored his interruption, despite the voice in the back of her mind that warned he was right.

  Mating wasn’t marriage. It couldn’t be ended by a couple of lawyers and a restraining order.

  At the moment she wasn’t in any mood to admit they were still bonded.

  “Even then you continued to deceive me.”

  Something flared through the dark eyes. “I know.”

  She blinked. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” She lowered her voice, mimicking his less-than-impressive explanation. “‘I know.’”

  “I was scared,” he clarified.

  Her brows snapped together. “If you’re trying to be funny ...”

  “I’m not.”

  “Mr. Neanderthal was scared?” She allowed her gaze to trail down the hard, toned perfection of his body. “Of what?”

  “I didn’t know at the time.” He studied her with blatant regret. “I only knew that whenever I told myself I had to confess the truth, I found some reason to put off the inevitable.”

  Her heart gave a renegade flutter. “And now?”

  “Now I know that I was terrified that when you learned the truth you would never be able to forgive me. If I lost you ...” He abruptly reached to grasp her hand in a near painful grip, a haunting fear briefly flaring through his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to survive.”

  A portion of her fury faded. There was no doubting the sincerity of his words.

  She could feel the fierce emotions that pulsed through his body. They echoed in her own heart.

  “What exactly is the truth?” she asked, her voice thick.

  “I think you know most of it.” His thumb caressed her inner wrist, the light caress sending jolts of pleasure shooting through her. “I was contacted by Salvatore two weeks ago. He said that his mother-in-law was in danger, but that she was too stubborn to accept his help.” He grimaced. “To be honest, I wasn’t happy about his request. I’m a soldier, not a babysitter.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m not an aging, feebleminded female who needs her hand held by a big, bad male,” she snapped.

  “Aging?” He seemed baffled by her outrage. “You’re an exquisite female who is just reaching her prime.”

  A secret part of her preened at his words—she was, after all, about to become a grandmother, she had every right to be sensitive. But she was still angered by the thought she’d been treated as if she was incapable of making her own decisions.

  “And feebleminded?” she pressed.

  Frustration tightened his expression. “Of course you aren’t feebleminded. Hell, you’re clever enough to ensure my life is going to be a constant battle to keep up with you. But I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe, cara,” he rasped. “It’s what I was born to do.”

  Okay.

  That was exactly the right thing to say, she wryly acknowledged.

  Not that she was ready to concede defeat. There were still a few bones to pick.

  “If Salvatore realized I was searching for a bodyguard, why did he send you?” One day she would discover exactly how her son-in-law had known she was in danger and that she was looking for a hired thug. “It was obvious I was taking steps to protect myself.”

  “Because I’m the best.”

  She snorted. “Even if you do say so yourself?”

  His dark gaze never wavered. “It’s not a boast, Sophia, it’s the simple truth.”

  She believed him.

  There was a vast difference between arrogance and confidence.

  But she didn’t accept that it was just his talent in providing security that had prompted Salvatore to choose him.

  “And because you would report to him?”

  “Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. “Your daughters were anxious to know you were safe.” Abruptly his grip on her hand tightened, his wolf glowing in his eyes. “Of course, in the end I failed you.”

  Sophia sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the guilt that was festering deep inside Luc.

  Christ, she’d never thought he would be blaming himself for her being kidnapped by Morton. The cur was raving mad. Who could possibly have predicted what he would do?

  She leaned forward to frame his face in her hands, glaring into his wounded eyes.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. Mierda.” He shuddered, his hands lifting to lightly grasp her wrists. As if he needed to reassure himself that she was alive and unharmed. “I was so worried you would be lured into a trap and I walked straight into one. And then, when Morton was torturing you with that damned collar ...”

  Without thought she leaned forward to halt his pained words with a fierce kiss. She couldn’t bear for him to be burdened with regret when he’d done everything possible to keep her safe. But as soon as their mouths connected, the gesture of comfort combusted into something far more intense.

  Dangerous.

  Hurriedly she jerked back, licking her tingling lips.

  “I’m assuming he’s dead?”

  His brooding gaze remained locked on her mouth. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  There was a short silence as they both savored the thought of Morton dead.

  Sophia hoped the bastard was rotting in hell.

  At last, Luc slowly smiled. “Of course, there was one good thing about being locked in that basement.”

  A good thing?

  She scowled. “Did you take a blow to the head? That place was a nightmare.”

  “You risked your life to rescue me,” he pointed out softly. “You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t still love me.”

  “I was too weakened to shift,” she lamely tried to argue. “I knew I would need you to kill Morton and get us out of there.”

  “Liar.”

  “Luc ...”

  Tugging on her wrists, which he still held in a loose grip, he kissed her with an aching tenderness.

  “I’m sorry, cara,” he whispered against her mouth. “I re
gret ever deceiving you, and if I could go back in time I would change everything. But all we can do is go forward.”

  She pulled back to study his somber expression. Deep inside she knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. At least not intentionally.

  He’d come to Chicago as a soldier obeying orders. And like her he’d been knocked off guard by the power of their mating.

  Could she truly blame him for being reluctant to confess the truth?

  Not that she didn’t intend to keep his blunder as ammunition to pull out whenever she screwed up. It was almost like having a Get Out of Jail Free card, she decided.

  “You swear never to lie to me again?”

  She could feel the tension drain from him at her question, a small smile curving his lips.

  “I swear I will never ever give you a reason to regret trusting in me,” he hedged, knowing better than to make a promise he could never keep.

  A Were who could be trained.

  A good sign.

  “And you won’t interfere when I kick Salvatore’s furry ass?”

  “He is my king, but you ...” The dark gaze seared over her face, his steadfast love burning like a beacon. “You are my mate.”

  “Smart Were,” she whispered, a delicious warmth spilling through her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe you should remind me why that’s a good thing.”

  “With pleasure.” He pressed her back against the pillows, his lips tracing a path of erotic fire down the curve of her neck. “For both of us.”‘

  MURDER ON MYSTERIA LANE

  ANGIE FOX

  CHAPTER 1

  Last time I got stuck in a graveyard after dark, I missed the final episode of Lost. This time, an immense werewolf leveled a shotgun at my nose.

  I could smell the sharp tang of gun oil in the dry desert air.

  “Heather McPhee”—he cocked his weapon—“I order you to halt!”

  “You and what army?” I came up short, less than an inch from the double barrel. You really could poke an eye out with that thing. My gray cargo pants clanked with handcuffs, a stun gun, mace, two fixed-blade daggers, and of course my lucky boot knife.

  A desert wind blew in from the west, pelting the aged tombstones with rocks and debris. Two more werewolves emerged from the darkness. They took positions on either side of the scraggily, bad-breathed Goliath.