A wry smile curved his lips, but the golden eyes remained watchful, closely monitoring her reaction.
“You don’t have to do anything but be yourself, cara. It’s the nature of the mating bond to weaken the male.”
Harley abruptly recalled Salvatore’s unexpected bouts of weakness during their flight from Caine. And his obvious weariness after being attacked by Briggs.
At the time, she’d put it down to the endless battles and the silver that had been lodged in his shoulder…
Now her heart slowly squeezed at the realization that if Salvatore was actually telling the truth, she’d been responsible for the chinks in his considerable armor. For God’s sake, she could have gotten him killed without even knowing it.
“What kind of stupid tradition is that?” she muttered sourly. “Haven’t the Weres heard of the Darwin theory? Males should get stronger, not weaker, when they have a mate.”
A dangerous smile curved his lips as his hands grabbed the top edge of her towel and yanked her against him.
“It’s to keep him from taking his mate by force,” he growled, his eyes darkening with a slumberous invitation. “The female must be willing or the bond can’t be completed.”
She studied his lean, beautiful face, searching for some sign of resentment. Surely he had to be pissed at having his powers hijacked?
If he was, he hid it well. At the moment there was nothing but a blazing hunger that smacked into her with delicious force.
Suddenly she was acutely aware of his fingers that curled beneath the towel and branded the upper curve of her breasts. The hard, ruthless lines of his bronzed body. His intoxicating musk that seeped through her skin and flowed through her blood.
With an effort, Harley held onto a thin strand of sanity.
Dammit, Salvatore was being stalked by a crazed psychopathic Were and a pack of crazed curs with regicide on their minds. He should be concentrating on staying alive.
“And once she agrees to the mating, his strength returns?” she demanded.
He lowered his head to trail his lips over her temple, the satin curtain of his hair brushing her cheek.
“It returns even greater than before.” His mouth traced the line of her brow. “There’s also a legend that ancient mated pairs were once capable of sharing their powers, so they were all but invincible.”
The heat shimmered through her body, the potent force weakening her knees. Instinctively she grabbed for his shoulders, her nails digging into his rigid muscles. He growled in approval.
Dammit, he wasn’t going to distract her.
This was too important.
“So how does the female complete this mating bond?”
He teased at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know.”
She pulled back to glare at him. “How can you not know?”
“It’s not a ritual the female performs. She doesn’t dance around a bonfire or sacrifice small animals.” His lips curled in a smile filled with wicked promise. “Of course, if you wanted to dance around the bonfire naked…”
“Salvatore.”
He heaved a sigh, his hands shifting to frame her face, his gaze stabbing deep into her wide eyes.
“Either the female accepts the male, or she rejects him. It’s as mystical and unexplainable as falling in love.”
“And if she doesn’t accept him?”
“Then he’ll devote the rest of eternity to changing her mind.” With a powerful motion, Salvatore swept her off her feet and headed to the bed. Harley’s stomach clenched at the focused intent engraved on his face. “Like this.”
“Wait,” she breathed, her voice already thick with a pulsing need. “Your powers…”
The golden glow of his eyes spilled through the room. “Are ready and willing to please you.”
“I’m serious, Salvatore. You can’t go against Briggs while you’re weakened,” she protested, her breath tangling in her lungs as she landed spread-eagle on the mattress, Salvatore covering her with his heavily aroused body.
“Harley, the last thing I want to think about right now is Briggs.”
“This conversation isn’t over…”
He slid into her with one smooth thrust, and not only was the conversation over, but so was all rational thought.
Wrapping her legs around his hips, Harley closed her eyes in exquisite pleasure, settling for communicating in a more primitive language.
Harley hadn’t intended to fall asleep. One minute she’d been floating on a cloud of postcoital bliss and the next she’d been snuggling into Salvatore’s arms and drifting into unconsciousness.
She didn’t know how long she’d been out when she was awakened by Salvatore whispering in her ear.
“Harley.”
“Hmmmm?”
“Harley, I need you get out of bed and dressed as quickly as you can.”
It was the tension vibrating in his voice that had Harley’s eyes snapping open with sudden alarm.
“Are the vampires here?”
Salvatore eased from the bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. “No.”
Harley shook off her lingering glow and crawled out of bed to pull on her own clothes, shoving her fingers through her hair before fastening it back with a scrunchie. No one wanted to face trouble naked.
“What is it?”
Salvatore absently slipped on a black satin shirt, leaving it open as he sat on the edge of the bed and shoved his feet into a pair of black biker boots. A far cry from his tailored Gucci suit, but still sexy as hell.
Lifting his head, he revealed a grim expression. “Briggs.”
Harley’s blood ran cold. “He’s here?”
“Outside.”
“Shit.”
Standing, Salvatore crossed the room to grab her by the shoulders.
“Find Santiago and stay with him,” he commanded. “Styx should be here within the hour.”
Her mouth dropped open with disbelief. Did he really think she was going to be treated like some swooning female who had to be protected by her big strong male?
“No.”
“Cara, don’t argue with me,” he growled. “Not now.”
She stubbornly held her ground. “You’re not facing that lunatic by yourself.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re safe. Do this for me.” His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with concern. “Please.”
“Salvatore…”
Putting an end to the argument, Salvatore wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her over his shoulder. Then striding across the floor, he yanked open the door and set her down in the hallway.
“Go.”
“Dammit.” The door was shut in her face, followed by the distinct sound of the bolt being thrown.
She stood for a minute, weighing the pleasure of kicking down the door and teaching the damned Were a badly needed lesson in pushing her around against accepting that she was wasting time.
Salvatore was just idiotic enough to face Briggs on his own, regardless of the fact that he wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
So freaking, typically male.
Turning on her heel, Harley headed down the stairs and back across the wide lobby. It was late, but she could still hear the muted roars from the nightclub below. Obviously blood and sex were a big draw in the ol’ demon world.
She was nearing the stairs leading back down to the pit when a female form detached from a shadowed alcove, and the scent of plums swirled through the air.
Tonya, the royal imp.
Or more likely, the royal slut, Harley cattily decided, her gaze skimming over the red microdress that had been lacquered on the lush body, and the heavy layer of makeup on the pale, perfect face.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own, sweet thing,” the imp drawled. “There are all sorts of beasties roaming around who don’t mind if a woman goes furry once a month.”
Not bothering to react to the insult or correct the assumption, Harley stabbed the imp with an impatient glare.
<
br /> “I need Santiago.”
“The King of Weres isn’t enough for you?”
Harley stepped until they were nose to nose. “Don’t. Screw. With. Me. Where is he?”
The woman swallowed, her eyes suddenly wide. “His office.”
“You see, that wasn’t so hard.”
With a pat on the imp’s cheek, Harley headed for the back of the lobby, not missing a step as the angry woman called out behind her.
“Bitch.”
Reaching the office, Harley shoved open the door and stepped over the threshold, indifferent to the dangers of intruding on a vampire without invitation.
“I need your help.”
Seated behind his desk, Santiago gave a lift of his brows before slowly rising to his feet.
“Of course. I am at your service.”
“Salvatore is going outside to meet with Briggs.”
“Briggs?”
“A psychotic zombie pureblood who’s filled with black magic and sporting a nasty temper.” Her voice was clipped with impatience. “He’s convinced himself that he should be sitting on the Were throne.”
With fluid, almost dizzying speed, Santiago was moving toward a far wall, pressing his fingers to the frame of one of the paintings. With a small swoosh the wall slid inward, revealing a hidden tunnel.
“Wait here,” the vamp commanded, disappearing into the dark.
“Where are you going?” Harley threw her hands in the air as the demon ignored her, continuing on to his bat cave and leaving her to twiddle her damn thumbs. “God. Men are so freaking annoying.”
She glared at the opening, but she wasn’t stupid enough to follow. Entering the private lair of a vampire was a death sentence. Pure and simple.
Instead she anxiously paced the floor, cursing the dampening spell that made it impossible for her to sense whether Salvatore had already left the building.
How had Briggs managed to find them? And how had he broken through the enchantment to contact Salvatore without alerting Santiago?
Still pacing the floor, her stomach clenched with a fear that sparked her temper.
She curled her hands to fists. Why did she even care what happened to the arrogant King of Weres? Just a week ago he’d been the boogeyman that Caine used to keep her prisoner. Okay, she didn’t think he was out to kill her anymore. And he most certainly was the kind of take-no-prisoner lover, one that any woman would have to be an idiot to kick out of bed.
But he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a means to getting to her sisters, right? Ships passing in the night…yadda yadda.
Dammit.
She was counting to one hundred and if Santiago wasn’t back, she was going to look for Salvatore without him.
She reached twenty when Santiago made a silent reappearance, his long hair tied into a braid, carrying a leather satchel.
A vampire ready for action.
“We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” She frowned at his abrupt command. “No frigging way.”
His long strides never broke as he crossed to grasp her arm and steer her toward the door.
“Styx and his Ravens are fifty miles north of town. We’re driving to meet him.”
She dug in her heels. Not just a figment of speech. She might be tiny, but she was all Were.
An irate female Were with combat training.
One of the most dangerous creatures in the world.
“We’re not going anywhere until we’ve stopped Briggs from slaughtering Salvatore,” she hissed.
Coming to a grudging halt, Santiago met her angry glare with an unyielding expression.
“My orders are to keep you safe.”
“I don’t give a crap what your orders are.”
“Harley, you are currently my guest, but if you insist on putting yourself in danger, then I’ll make you my prisoner.”
She didn’t miss the silken warning in his dark voice.
“It doesn’t matter to you that Salvatore is in danger?”
“Not in the least.”
Harley clenched her hands, knowing she couldn’t force the vampire to help Salvatore fight Briggs.
“If you don’t care about Salvatore’s safety, then why are you so determined to protect me?” she snapped.
“You’re mate-sister to my Anasso. He was very clear in his command to bring you to him without delay.”
Perfect.
The nightclub was overflowing with powerful demons and not a cursed one would lift a finger to help her without the say-so of this vamp.
“Mate-sister or not, he’s not my king. I’ll decide when I leave.” She stepped forward, her temper reaching a critical level. Something or someone was about to get broken. “Get out of my way.”
Santiago reached behind his back, pulling a gun from his waistband.
“I am sorry, Harley.”
“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, shoving him in the chest and making a wild dash toward the door.
He wouldn’t actually shoot her.
The thought flashed through her mind at the precise moment she felt a sharp pain in her butt, and the world went black.
Leaving the warehouse, Salvatore followed the sense of Briggs to the small park that had been built near the river. It was late enough to be empty of humans, and the few dew fairies who lingered preferred to dance in the tiny tendrils of fog that lay like a shroud on top of the water.
Prepared for a trap, Salvatore moved past the picnic tables set in concrete slabs and the neatly trimmed bushes, at last coming to a halt as a shimmer broke the air in front of the stone fountain.
He resisted the urge to sweep the area with his senses. For now he had to trust that Harley wasn’t going to do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
There was a change in air pressure, then with a pop, the familiar form of Briggs was visible in the darkness.
Salvatore gagged at the stench of rotting meat that filled the frigid air.
“You’re looking a little ragged, mio amico,” he muttered, his gaze skimming over the haggard face and the too-thin body bent beneath the heavy cloak. Even in projection form, the pureblood looked like hell. “And you smell even worse. How long has it been since you got laid?”
“A few of us have priorities that don’t involve whores,” the crimson eyes flashed. “Of course, once I’ve taken the throne, I’ll have plenty of time to screw your mate. How poetic if she’s the first female to birth my litter.”
Salvatore’s wolf crawled beneath his skin, a brutal fury pumping through his blood.
“You try to bed Harley and she’ll rip your black heart out,” he rasped.
“Before I’m done with her, she’ll be begging to be in my bed. And if not…” The hollow chuckle sent a chill of revulsion down Salvatore’s spine. “I don’t mind taking my women by force. A struggle always adds a nice spice to sex.”
Salvatore’s heat blasted through the park, his power a tangible force.
“Being one of the walking dead has obviously putrefied your brain. You will never sit on my throne, and you will never have Harley. The only thing in your future is a long overdue grave.”
“Such brave talk,” Briggs rasped.
“I’m not the one cowering behind illusions.”
“Be thankful you haven’t yet faced me in the flesh. You would be dead.” A sneer curled the pureblood’s mouth. “Just like the worthless king before you.”
Salvatore stiffened.
Dio. His suspicions had been right.
“You killed Mackenzie?”
“Are you just now figuring that out?” Briggs mocked. “God, how could fate ever have thought you worthy of being king?”
Salvatore ignored the insult, his thoughts churning. He was playing a deadly game without knowing the rules or the ultimate goals.
“Why did you kill him?”
“Because he was no longer of use to me.”
“And no longer any use to your master?” Salvatore challenged, sensin
g the power behind Briggs was the true danger. “Have you considered what will happen to you once you’ve served your purpose?”
“I already know my destiny.”
“Sitting on a throne that doesn’t belong to you? You’re a fool, Briggs. You’ll be betrayed, just like Mackenzie.”
The chill thickened and with a lift of his hands, Briggs struck out, slamming his power into Salvatore.
“You know nothing.”
Salvatore reeled from the blow, but he ignored the broken ribs and squared his shoulders. He’d touched a nerve. Briggs could brag and boast all he wanted, but underneath he feared that he was just more useless fodder.
“I know that a demon doesn’t share his power without expecting something in return,” he ruthlessly pressed. “And that the true cost is always shrouded in lies until it’s too late.”
A tick jerked beneath one sunken eye, but Briggs smiled with that smug superiority that always set Salvatore’s teeth on edge.
There was room for only one arrogant bastard in the pack.
And he was it.
“Don’t tell me you’re concerned for me, Giuliani,” Briggs scoffed. “I’m touched.”
“I’m concerned that your damned greed has condemned the Weres to extinction.”
“You’re the one destroying the Weres. It’s my fate to be their savior.”
“Very noble, but evil can’t create, it can only destroy.”
That disturbing laugh once again echoed through the empty park, sending the handful of dew fairies fleeing in horror. Salvatore wished he could join them.
There was something just…wrong about Briggs.
Beyond the cold, beyond the hideous smell, beyond the black magic was a sense of twisted perversion.
As if the grave still claimed his soul.
“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?” Briggs taunted.
Salvatore shuddered, wondering if there was anything of the Were left inside the decaying shell.
“Have you ever considered that our troubles began with Mackenzie?” He forced himself to meet the disturbing crimson gaze. “His treachery condemned us and your megalomania has only fueled our downfall. You’re like rot that has to be cut away before it can spread further.” He didn’t bother to hide his grimace. “Dio, you even smell like rot.”
Beyond the Darkness Page 17
