The Real Werewives of Vampire County - By Alexandra Ivy Page 0,3

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