Troy, prince of imps, was a large, muscular man with the build of a professional wrestler and the fashion taste of a drag queen. At the moment he was attired in silver spandex pants and a see-through jade shirt that gave a nice glimpse of his broad chest.
His long, brilliant red hair flowed down his back like a river of fire and his emerald eyes danced with a wicked sense of humor that was contagious.
He was like an exotic butterfly who 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 pureblooded 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 unwelcomed 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 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 skin-tight black T-shirt that was matched with a pair of black combat pants.
The word whispered through her mind at the same moment his potent heat wrapped around her, enflaming 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.
“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.