With a low growl, the cur had moved to block the man’s path, his hand shooting out to grab his shirt and lift him a few inches off the ground.
“And maybe you should answer my question before I rip out your throat.”
“Jesus Christ, what the hell’s up with your eyes?”
Muttering a curse, Salvatore was crossing the parking lot. What was wrong with the stupid cur?
The first rule in the demon world was to always avoid the attention of mortals. Those who flaunted that particular law would soon find themselves dead. Or worse, hauled before the Oracles. The ruling Commission could devise punishments that would make death seem like a holiday.
Flowing forward with blinding speed, Salvatore clubbed the cur on the back of the head, calmly stepping over his unconscious form as it tumbled to the cement.
“Forgive me for intruding, but you looked like you could use some help,” he drawled.
The human licked his lips, his eyes wide and hands shaking. “Who are you?”
“The man who apparently just saved you from having your throat ripped out.”
With a shudder the man glanced down at the unconscious cur. “There’s something not right with him.”
“Drugs.”
“I never heard of a drug turning a man’s eyes red before.”
“A new designer drug from St. Louis,” Salvatore smoothly lied.
The man frowned, but accepted Salvatore’s ridiculous claim. “You know him?”
“My partner and I have been tracking him since he escaped from the authorities two days ago.”
“You’re a cop?”
“Close enough.”
Proving he wasn’t a full-fledged idiot, the human ran a suspicious gaze over Salvatore’s hard features and lethal golden eyes. Not even casual clothes could hide his feral nature.
“Where’s your badge?”
Salvatore shrugged. “I’m not here to interfere in your business, I’m just looking for my partner. The blonde this man was asking about.”
The man took a wary step backwards. “The blonde?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?”
“I don’t want to get involved…”
Reaching into his pocket, Salvatore pulled out the roll of money he’d stolen the night before.
“I can make it worth your while.” He peeled off a few bills, tossing them at the man’s feet. “Where did she go?”
Careful to keep an eye on Salvatore, the human bent down to snatch the money and shove it into his pocket.
“I saw a blonde running up Main Street.”
“On foot?”
“Yeah.”
“How long ago?”
“Not more than fifteen minutes.”
“She was alone?”
The man straightened, shoving the money in his pocket. “As far as I could tell.”
With a dip of his head, Salvatore headed toward the street. “Grazie.”
“Hey, what about this guy on the ground?”
Salvatore’s pace never slowed. “Not my problem.”
“You can’t just leave him here.”
“Actually, I can, although I will offer you a word of warning.” Reaching the stone wall that marked the edge of the parking lot, Salvatore easily vaulted over it to land on the sidewalk. “You don’t want to be nearby when he wakes up.”
“Hey…”
The human continued to yell meaningless words, but Salvatore was already jogging down the street, forced to keep his pace frustratingly slow to peer in the passing shops.
Cristo. He’d been an idiot to let Harley keep the amulet. It was practically an invitation for the headstrong Were to bolt, knowing he couldn’t track her scent. Of course, on the upside, no one else could track her either, he reminded himself. And considering the number of enemies on his trail, that made the amulet a treasure beyond price.
No, if he had a brain in his head he would have let her keep the amulet and instead tied her to the bed.
Salvatore shuddered. Even after hours of sating his rampant desire, his blood still heated and his body hardened at the mere thought of the aggravating woman.
Not surprising.
He’d enjoyed talented lovers over the years, but what happened between him and Harley hadn’t been just sex.
It had been a stunning explosion of sensations that had bound him irrevocably to his mate. And he didn’t even have the sense to regret the realization that his life was forever altered.
In fact, his only regret was that Harley was obviously not ready to accept their mating.
Reaching the edge of the town, Salvatore took a moment to consider his options. There was always the possibility that Harley had decided to return to Caine. She had to know the cur would be willing to forgive her anything if she agreed to stay with him. There was also the possibility that she’d stolen a car and was even now speeding ever farther away.
His instinct, however, told him that she was still near.
Entering the woods that sprawled north of the town, Salvatore cautiously threaded his way through the thick undergrowth. In the distance he could hear the call of birds and the rustle of small game, but a heavy silence cloaked around him. Not unusual. Animals could sense his predatory nature. It was, instead, the prickle of energy that warned a Were was near.
“Harley?”
Alarm trickled down his spine as the scent of rotting meat filled the air. Whoever was out there, it wasn’t Harley.
Swiftly tugging off his clothes, Salvatore prepared to shift. Under normal circumstances there wasn’t a Were born who could challenge him. Unfortunately, his unclaimed mating bond made him vulnerable.
Calling his power, Salvatore hesitated as a cold chill blasted from a small clearing just ahead of him and the shimmering outline of a man began to form. His hands clenched as he recognized the short Were with unkempt brown hair and crimson eyes.
He was paler than he recalled, his face thinner, and his eyes an even deeper red. But there was no mistaking the cruel features and whiff of madness that clung to him.
“Briggs,” he hissed.
“Ah, Salvatore Giuliani,” the man sneered, his English accent as pronounced as it had been centuries ago. Briggs had always been too arrogant to try to blend in with the crowd. Which explained the long black cloak he had wrapped around his slender body. Or maybe his taste in fashion was just that revolting. “You cannot know how long I have waited for this moment.”
“I presume you’ve been waiting since I kicked your ass, tossed you in a fire, and spread your ashes on a dung heap,” Salvatore sneered.
The crimson eyes flashed, the chill spreading to bite into Salvatore’s skin. Dio. What had Briggs done to himself?
“So proud of yourself, and yet here I am.”
Salvatore narrowed his gaze. He didn’t know jack-crap about magic, but he was certain a Were couldn’t suck enough power from his host to pop from one place to another. Briggs had to be projecting his appearance.
Not that it made him any less dangerous.
Or less crazy.
“But not in all your glory,” Salvatore taunted, vividly recalling that Briggs’s weakness had always been his inability to control his temper. “Afraid to face me like a true Were, magic-sucker?”
“And why should I bother when I have slaves to collect the trash?”
Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore staggered backwards as the Were sent a crushing command toward the distant curs. The years obviously hadn’t taught the Were any restraint. He’d always been a big fan of overkill.
Shaking off the pinpricks of pain, Salvatore studied his age-old enemy. It wouldn’t take long for the curs to arrive. Before then, he needed to know how Briggs was still alive and what the hell he was plotting.
“Surely you can’t be idiotic enough to believe your curs can capture me?”
Briggs smirked, confident he had Salvatore cornered. “They are remarkably inept, but they serve their purpose on most occasions.”
“Not this occasion.” Salvato
re shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. “Unless you have a few hundred hidden among the trees.”
“As always, you have sadly underestimated me, Salvatore.”
“No, Briggs, as always, you’ve overestimated yourself.” Indifferent to the fact that he was stark naked, Salvatore folded his arms over his chest and peered down his nose at the smaller Were. Briggs hated to be reminded of his small stature. “You would think dying once would have taught you that you will never be as good as me. I’m the king, and you’re a tainted has-been who has to use black magic because he isn’t Were enough to beat me.”
“King?” Briggs curled his lips. “You’re a pathetic upstart who stole what was rightfully mine.”
“If it was rightfully yours, I would never be allowed to sit on the throne. You were found unworthy.”
“Bastard.” Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore felt icy bands of power wrap around him, driving him to his knees. “I will make you pay.”
“Magic,” Salvatore snarled, nearly gagging at the stench of rotting meat. A Were’s strength was a warm, earthy force that had nothing in common with the twisted perversion of black magic. “You’re pathetic.”
Briggs moved toward him, his cloak rippling around him, though the leaves beneath his feet made no sound.
Freak.
“I’m not the one on my knees.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything you took from me.”
Salvatore spit at the heavy boots that halted mere feet away. “The Weres will never accept a walking corpse who stinks of treachery.”
“They will have no choice.”
Salvatore’s sharp laugh echoed through the trees. “Weres always have a choice.”
“I can give them what you cannot.”
“And what’s that?”
The Were smirked. “A future.”
“Future? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Children.”
Salvatore sucked in a stunned breath. No. This lunatic couldn’t possibly have found the cure to heal the Weres. Fate might be cruel, but it couldn’t be completely without mercy.
Briggs was an unstable, power-hungry despot who would lead the Were to certain destruction.
“You think you can produce children with magic?” he demanded.
“I would not be the first Were leader willing to seek help for our people through…unconventional means.” A taunting smile curved his lips. “How do you think I was first introduced to the power?”
“You lie.”
Briggs reached out to run a finger down Salvatore’s cheek, his touch leaving a trail of frigid pain.
“I was taken into the king’s confidence when it was obvious I was to be his heir.” His eyes flashed with pure hate. “Before you were born.”
Salvatore gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the unease that stirred in the pit of his stomach.
The previous king had been a reclusive, sometimes volatile beast who too often disappeared for years on end. He’d become even more secretive after Salvatore had come into his powers, rarely mingling among his pack.
But there hadn’t been any hint he was brewing up evil in his lair.
That seemed like something Salvatore would have noticed.
“If that was true, then he would have shared the same information with me,” he rasped.
“He was warned not to.”
“Warned? By who?”
“By the ancient spirits.”
“Cristo.” Salvatore jerked from Briggs’s painful touch. “You’re completely nuts.”
Fury tightened the gaunt face. “Do not dare to mock me.”
“If you’re to be the great Messiah, then where are your creations?”
With an effort, Briggs regained command of his temper, smoothing his hands down the ridiculous cloak.
“All in good time.”
There was no mistaking the Were’s smug confidence, and Salvatore was hit by a sudden suspicion.
“God, you can’t believe you will change your pathetic curs into purebloods?” He shook his head. “I would expect such stupidity from Caine. But you, Briggs? How disappointing.”
Briggs’s expression was condescending, reminding Salvatore how much pleasure it had been to cut out his heart.
“I merely offered the cur the opportunity to glimpse into his future. What he claims to have seen is no concern of mine.”
“If it isn’t the curs, then where are your supposed children?”
“They will come when the time is right,” Briggs assured him. “You interfered too soon.”
Interfered? As much as Salvatore wanted to take credit for disrupting Briggs’s nefarious plans, he hadn’t done anything more than stumble across Caine. And…Harley.
A sudden, blinding rage rushed through Salvatore as he struggled against the icy bonds that held him.
“You son of a bitch,” he ground out. “You will never have Harley, or her sisters. Never.”
“Harley?” Briggs appeared genuinely puzzled. “Ah, Caine’s bitch.” He shrugged. “She’ll no doubt warm my bed, as will all the female purebloods.”
Salvatore’s rage faltered, his brow furrowed. “You can’t fool me, Briggs. You’re responsible for stealing the baby Weres from my nursery.”
“Of course, I did. And they have proven to be the perfect distraction.” He chuckled. “Even better than I could ever have dreamed possible.”
“You had four pure-blooded babies snatched for a distraction?”
“I knew how desperately you were pinning your hopes on them and that you would sacrifice anything to retrieve them, even leaving your stronghold in Rome,” Briggs drawled, his flagrant conceit etched on his face. “They were mere pawns in your ultimate destruction.”
Son of a bitch.
Salvatore shook his head in self-disgust.
Of all the reasons he’d imagined for the theft of the babies over the past thirty years, he’d never even considered the possibility it had been a plot personally directed at him.
“You deliberately led me here.”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“As I said, it is not yet time to reveal my grand scheme,” Briggs said, leaning down to better enjoy Salvatore’s frustration. “But be assured…” He bit off his words as his eyes widened in an unexpected horror. He leaned even closer, sniffing Salvatore’s skin. “What is that?”
A savage smile curved Salvatore’s mouth. “The mating bond.”
Briggs straightened, his pale face becoming downright pasty.
“No. It cannot be.”
“Obviously, it can.”
Caught in their battle of wills, neither men noticed they were no longer alone. Not until there was the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
“Checkmate this.”
Salvatore’s blood ran cold as he caught sight of Harley standing directly behind Briggs, her handgun pointed to the back of the Were’s head.
“Harley, no!”
Chapter Nine
Harley was already squeezing the trigger when Salvatore cried out. With deadly accuracy the bullet smashed into the back of the Were’s head, the force of the blow sending him tumbling forward.
She instinctively kept the gun pointed at the stranger, her gut clenching as she watched the gaping hole in his skull swiftly knitting back together.
Where was the blood? The gore?
Not even the most powerful Were could be shot point-blank and not take a few minutes to recover.
Well, that was the common assumption.
A pity no one had told the scary Were who was already shimmering with power as he shifted.
Harley’s breath disappeared as the lethal animal with russet fur and large razor-sharp teeth turned to regard her with fierce crimson eyes.
Holy shit.
Harley never realized that blood could actually curdle.
Accustomed to curs, she was unprepared for the sheer size and terrifying power of a pureblood. The air thicken
ed, choking her with the heavy sense of danger. Her skin prickled. And her muscles clenched.
Her gut impulse was to flee from the terrifying predator, but Harley possessed enough sense to freeze.
The fastest way to death was to give the big sceevy Were something to chase.
Instead, she steadied her arm and prepared to shoot the beast. It hadn’t done much the first time. Okay, it had done something. It’d pissed him off. But unable to shift herself, she didn’t have much choice.
The Were lowered his head, preparing to attack, but before Harley could get off a shot, a furious howl split the air.
Stunned, Harley stumbled backwards, watching as Salvatore crouched on the ground, his body thickening and his face elongating as a thick raven-black fur rippled over his skin. In the blink of an eye, he was transformed into a huge werewolf.
God, he was beautiful, she acknowledged, her heart squeezing with an odd fear as he crashed into the unknown Were with a violent force.
Rolling across the clearing, the two purebloods ripped at one another with long claws, their jaws snapping. Harley lowered her gun, unable to risk taking a shot as the vicious battle continued.
The scent of blood filled the air, making Harley’s stomach clench with dread. Salvatore was the larger, more aggressive Were, but the stranger appeared freakishly immune to his savage wounds.
It had to be Briggs, she told herself. Nothing but black magic could allow the lesser Were to survive Salvatore’s brutal fury.
The realization, however, did nothing to reassure Harley.
How was Salvatore supposed to defeat a zombie Were with evil powers?
A pained yelp echoed through the trees as Salvatore at last rolled on top of the squirming Were, latching his teeth deep into his opponent’s throat. The fight should have been at an end, but proving his unnatural powers, Briggs continued to claw at Salvatore’s back, leaving deep scratches that oozed an alarming amount of blood.
Salvatore couldn’t bleed to death, but he would quickly weaken if he wasn’t allowed to heal.
Dammit.
Harley found herself moving forward, tired of watching from the sidelines.
She didn’t have a clue what would hurt the Were, but she was willing to try anything. Starting with unloading a bunch of bullets straight into his head.
Beyond the Darkness Page 10