Beyond the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “It just might be,” Salvatore muttered, glaring at two hulking trolls who were eyeing Harley as if she were a tasty appetizer.

  With a lift of his slender hand, a beautiful female imp with pale red hair and ivory curves on full display in a tiny spandex dress rushed to do his bidding. And if her smile was anything to go by, she was hoping his bidding included taking off that scrap of spandex.

  Harley gritted her teeth, but Salvatore seemed oblivious to the woman’s blatant invitation.

  “A booth,” he commanded. “As far from the arena as possible.”

  “Of course.” With a venomous glance toward Harley, the imp wound her way past the tables on the top tier, leading them to a shadowed alcove that held a small booth. Harley slid onto a steel bench seat and Salvatore settled opposite her, his gaze sweeping the crowd rather than focusing on the imp who had practically thrust her breasts beneath his nose. “A drink, lover?”

  Harley cleared her throat. “A Bloody Mary,” she ordered, her tone warning that her drink wasn’t going to be the only bloody thing if the bitch didn’t back off.

  As if sensing the sudden tension in the air, Salvatore studied her flushed face with a smug smile.

  “Hennessy,” he absently ordered.

  With a flounce, the imp turned and stormed through the crowed, presumably headed to the bar for their drinks. Avidly aware of Salvatore’s unwavering gaze, Harley settled back in her seat.

  “Isn’t Hennessy a little snobbish for a joint like this?”

  He reached to stroke his finger over the back of her hand that was lying on the table.

  “What can I say? I’m a Were of discerning taste.”

  Her clever comeback died on her lips as spotlights abruptly flared across the ceiling and the milling crowd erupted into noisy cheers.

  Glancing upward, Harley watched as four small golden cages were lowered from the hidden traps in the ceiling. They halted several feet over the large cage on the floor, dangling in the spotlights.

  “Holy crap,” she breathed, allowing her gaze to shift from one cage to another. “Are those imps?”

  Salvatore grimaced. “They’re part of the show.”

  That wasn’t reassuring considering the four imps, two male and two female, were completely naked except for the heavy steel collars around their necks.

  “Just what is this show?”

  “The demon version of The Dating Game.”

  Harley shook her head. She was addicted to the Game Show Network, and she hadn’t seen any show with naked imps hanging in cages.

  “Somehow I don’t think the human version is even in the same universe. I assume there are a few rules?”

  “Rudimentary ones. You pay an exorbitant amount of money for the privilege of joining a dozen other demons in the pit.” He pointed toward the huge cage on the floor that could accommodate an indoor soccer league. “The last demon standing is rewarded with a key.”

  “Key?”

  His hand lifted toward the cages, each with a large lock that held the doors shut.

  “Once the winner makes his or her choice, the next batch is herded into the pit for their chance at a key.”

  Outrage flowed through Harley like molten lava. For all of Caine’s faults, he’d always made certain that the males in his pack understood the penalty of rape.

  Death.

  Slow, tortuous, painful death.

  “Those are sex slaves?”

  “No.” Salvatore squeezed her fingers, anxious to keep her from doing something stupid. “I’ll admit that I wouldn’t shed a tear if someone managed to plant a stake in Viper’s unbeating heart, but he would never allow slaves in his club.”

  “How do you know?”

  He leaned close and spoke low enough that not even the most talented demon could overhear him.

  “Viper was held as a slave for centuries. He would slaughter anyone involved in the trade.”

  His reassurances were backed up by the sight of the imps, who happily leaned against the bars of their cages to provoke the crowd below into a near frenzy.

  “And you?” she asked.

  He chuckled as he lifted her hand to his lips, his tongue tracing the line of her knuckles.

  “I don’t need such crude methods. My charm is enough to enslave others.”

  She might debate his charm, but his touch was enough to make a woman beg for more.

  “And you call Caine delusional,” she said, her words sounding lame as heat curled through the pit of her stomach.

  Thankfully the imp chose that moment to return with their drinks, her barely covered boobs distracting Salvatore enough for Harley to jerk her hand free.

  Not that it did a damned bit of good.

  The excitement bubbled through her blood like the finest champagne, her skin crawling with a prickling awareness. She shifted uneasily in her seat, suddenly damp and aching.

  What the hell?

  Waving away the persistent imp, Salvatore shot Harley a knowing smile, easily sensing her stirring hunger.

  “You should at least enjoy the warm-up act.”

  Before she could ask, she caught sight of the naked men covered in nothing more than elaborate tattoos styled into Chinese symbols. They appeared to be human males—except no human was so perfectly ripped no matter how often they worked out, and their skin didn’t glow with an oddly metallic shimmer—as they weaved a sensuous path through the tables.

  “Frigging hell.” Harley drained her Bloody Mary as one of the demons halted in front of their table, performing an erotic dance that had to be illegal in some states. Unable to tear her gaze from the alien beauty of the aquiline features and black, slanted eyes, she struggled to breathe. “What are they?”

  “Nozama demons,” Salvatore said. “In their culture, the women are the warriors while the males are judged on their sexual prowess.”

  “Now that is a fine culture,” she approved in husky tones, clutching the edge of the table to keep her hands from straying where they didn’t belong.

  Salvatore growled low in his throat, sending the demon scurrying to the next table.

  “Female warriors are respected in Were society, and our sexual prowess is renown throughout the demon world,” he informed her, reaching to take her hand in a possessive grip.

  “Almost as renowned as your arrogance.”

  “Our arrogance,” he corrected, leaning far enough across the table that his warm breath brushed her cheek. “You’re a pureblood, Harley. It is past time you returned to your pack.”

  A sharp ache tugged at her heart. An unpleasant reminder of the loneliness that had plagued her all her life.

  As a Were, she instinctively craved the connection to a pack. Not only for protection, but for the companionship that was as important to purebloods as food and sex.

  There had always been a very large part of herself missing.

  Still, she wasn’t prepared to make commitments to anyone. Not Salvatore. Not her sisters.

  “I’ll decide if or when I return to a pack,” she warned.

  Lifting her arm, Salvatore nuzzled the pulse hammering in her inner wrist.

  “I could make the decision an easy one if you would let me.”

  “Not everyone is ruled by their hormones.”

  The golden eyes flashed with heat. “Ah, if only that were true.”

  Harley’s lips parted as a blast of lust slammed into her.

  It wasn’t the persistent tug that was always present when Salvatore was near. Or the intense hunger that his kisses so easily roused.

  This was a jarring, overwhelming need that felt unpleasantly like drowning.

  “Giuliani?” she rasped.

  “Relax, cara.” He gently massaged her hand.

  “What is it?”

  “The dancers release a pheromone. It helps encourage more participants to ante up for a turn in the pit.”

  “Crap.” She shifted on the hard bench, her skin coated in perspiration. “I’m about ready to ante up myself.�
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  Without warning, Salvatore surged to his feet, pulling her off the bench and against his hard body.

  “No need to fight, cara,” he husked. “Unless that turns you on.”

  In this moment, everything was turning Harley on.

  The feel of Salvatore’s hard body, his frigging delicious musky scent, the pulse of his outrageous power…

  Without warning, a hand descended on her shoulder, yanking her around to discover a large Pecoste demon leering at her with yellow eyes, his tusks dripping with venom.

  Salvatore instantly bared his teeth, his eyes blazing with the eerie glow of a werewolf a breath away from shifting.

  “Remove your hand before I…”

  Harley didn’t wait for the two males to enjoy banging on their chests and blowing a lot of hot air.

  With one smooth motion, she kicked the Pecoste demon in the knee, waiting for him to instinctively bend over before she connected her fist with his chin. The demon flew backwards, landing on a table two tiers down. There was a snarl of anger from the demons below and a savage brawl broke out, but Harley didn’t wait to appreciate her handiwork.

  Instead she wiped her hands on her jeans and met Salvatore’s amused gaze.

  “When I need rescuing, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The scuffle had been fun, but the aching lust was still curling through her body. God Almighty. If she didn’t have relief soon, she might just explode.

  “I’ve seen enough,” she muttered, heading for the exit as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

  Not surprisingly Salvatore was swiftly at her side. “Where are you going?”

  “My room.”

  They waded through the crowd in silence, at last reaching the door and climbing the stairs. With every step, the clinging pheromones lessened, easing the choking desire, but Harley’s pace never slowed. The artificial lust might be dismissed by a change of location, but the restless hunger that continued to plague her would not be so easily banished.

  She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew that Salvatore wouldn’t wait much longer to go after Briggs. The next few hours might be their last together.

  Bypassing the lobby, Harley headed straight for her room on the upper floor, pulling her key card from her pocket and throwing open the door. Then, before she could remind herself of all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, she grabbed Salvatore’s arm and tugged him into the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Salvatore lifted his brows in wary surprise. “Harley?”

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” she demanded, pushing him against the wall and running her hands over the hard planes of his chest.

  Without warning, Salvatore grasped her wrists, halting her impatient caresses.

  “Wait, cara.”

  Her gut twisted with frustration. “Are you kidding me?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I won’t be accused of taking advantage of you while you’re under the influence.”

  “Fine.” She leaned forward, licking a line from his sternum to the hollow of his neck. “Then I’ll take advantage of you.”

  He shuddered, his heat flaring through the room with the force of a nuclear blast.

  “Works for me,” he rasped, loosening her wrists so he could pull out the scrunchie holding her hair, ramming his fingers through the thick strands. Harley wasted no time as she grasped the silk of his shirt and ripped it off him. Salvatore laughed with smug pleasure. “Dio. Remind me to triple my clothing allowance.”

  Harley tilted back her head to meet the golden gaze half-shielded beneath his thick lashes.

  “Don’t be making plans that include me, Giuliani. This is…”

  “Extraordinary,” he interrupted, his hands grasping her hips and jerking her against his rigid cock.

  “A temporary madness.”

  “I’ll agree to the madness part.” He grabbed the bottom of her tank top, pulled it over her head, and tossed it to the floor. Her bra was next, leaving her breasts bare for his intimate exploration. “Mind-blowing, heart-stopping madness.”

  She groaned as his thumbs found her hardened nipples, his head lowering to capture her lips in a kiss that demanded utter surrender.

  He tasted of aged cognac, his tongue tangling with hers as his fingers tugged at the tips of her breasts, sending jolts of raw pleasure to the pit of her stomach. Harley widened her lips beneath his savage demand, her hands fumbling with the leather belt.

  A wildfire was racing through her, and she was eager to be consumed by the flames.

  Having dealt with the belt buckle, Harley tugged open the button of his slacks and slid down the zipper, her heart slamming against her chest as her fingers circled his heavy arousal.

  Salvatore muttered a low curse, his hips surging forward as a sheen of sweat coated his beautiful face.

  “Careful, cara,” he gritted. “I’m trying to remember to be gentle.”

  In answer, Harley balanced on her tiptoes, biting the side of his neck with enough force to draw blood.

  “I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.”

  With a muted roar, Salvatore was spinning to the side, slamming her into the wall as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “You should be,” he warned, his hands ripping off her jeans, and the tiny triangle of lace beneath.

  “Salvatore…”

  Her breath stuck in her throat as his lips trailed a searing path up the inside of her thighs, while his hands firmly tugged her legs farther apart.

  Her fingers dug into his hair, a shudder of sheer delight shaking through her.

  “Oh…Lord.”

  “It’s too late for prayers,” he muttered, giving her legs one last tug so he could find the damp heat he was searching for.

  Harley swallowed her scream, her body quivering with erotic approval. She liked having Salvatore on his knees, making love to her with his tongue and teeth.

  Her eyes slid closed, her hands stroking through his hair as a sweet tension coiled deep in her womb. She briefly remembered that there had been some insane reason that she wanted to avoid Salvatore’s magical touch, but in this moment, she didn’t give a crap.

  Over and over his tongue teased her clitoris, occasionally thrusting into her opening with a skill that had her charging full steam toward her climax.

  Measuring her quickening pants, Salvatore abruptly straightened, kicking off his shoes and slacks to stand before her in his full glory.

  And he was glorious.

  His lean, perfect features. His luminous golden eyes. His chiseled, bronzed body. His cock, fully erect and eager to please.

  Allowing her a few moments to appreciate the sight of his naked body, Salvatore grasped her by the waist and turned her away from him.

  “Put your hands on the wall and keep your arms stiff,” he rasped in her ear, tugging her leg up and over his thigh, leaving her feeling oddly vulnerable.

  Caught off guard, Harley glanced over her shoulder in confusion, her heart jerking at the stark beauty of his bronzed face.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Trust me,” he said, his hand gripping her inner thigh at the same moment his erection nudged at her slit from behind.

  “Yes.”

  Her head fell back against his shoulder, her neck boneless with blistering pleasure as he surged inside her. He was large and angled to thrust deep, each driving plunge hovering between intense bliss and pain.

  Leaning heavily against the wall to support her weak knees, Harley groaned as his fingers slid between her folds, stroking through her damp heat in pace with the fierce, relentless pump of his hips.

  Somewhere in the dark, a pack of curs was searching for them, Briggs was plotting his evil, and the King of Vampires was rushing in their direction. But the dangers held no meaning for Harley as her body tightened with a near unbearable excitement.

  With a growl that was more animal than human, Salvatore buried his face in the curve
of her neck, his mouth nuzzling her sensitive skin.

  “You’re mine,” he said, his low words seeming to brand themselves on her soul. “For now and all eternity.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, Harley.” He thrust deeper, possessing her with every stroke. “There’s no going back.”

  “Dammit, Salvatore…”

  Her words were cut short as Salvatore sank his teeth into the base of her neck. Shocked by the delectable attack, Harley’s body arched, and a scream was wrenched from her throat as the shattering climax clutched at her body…

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caine gripped the steering wheel of the Jeep, heading back to his St. Louis lair at a pace just short of light speed.

  He was a good enough general to know he should be with his pack, leading them in pursuit of Salvatore and Harley.

  The curs were spooked by Salvatore’s display of power over them. It was one thing to hear rumors of the king’s ability to force a werewolf to shift, and quite another to experience it firsthand.

  And Vikki was certain to bolt at the first sign of trouble. She might be willing to use her magical abilities to impress him, but not if it meant bringing any danger to herself.

  Without Caine driving them on, they’d quite likely dillydally long enough to make certain that Salvatore managed to escape.

  At the moment, however, Caine was too distracted to launch an all-out offensive against the King of Weres.

  He needed time to sort through the doubts that were beginning to plague him.

  Predictably, what he needed and what he got were two very different things.

  Skimming down the graveled back roads that wound through recently plowed fields, Caine slammed on the brakes as the familiar scent of rotting flesh assaulted him.

  “Shit.”

  Andre shoved his dark hair from his face, his nose wrinkled with disgust.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Company,” Caine muttered, wishing he had the balls to ignore the unmistakable summons. Of course, if he ignored the summons there was a good chance he wouldn’t have any balls to worry about.

  “Company?” Andre shuddered. “It smells like he needs to lay down so someone can finish burying him.”

  Caine shoved the stick shift into park. “Stay here.”