The Real Werewives of Vampire County - By Alexandra Ivy Page 0,34
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. Maturity 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