Beyond the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Circling wide enough to avoid distracting Salvatore, Harley waited until she had a clear shot at the Were’s head before lifting her arm and aiming the gun.

  Almost as if sensing her presence, Briggs shifted his crimson gaze to regard her with a malevolent warning.

  God. Her throat tightened with an icy dread, but her arm never wavered. The thing was an abomination. The thought of it creeping around the world would give any sane demon nightmares.

  Perhaps reading the determination etched on her face, the Were snarled with fury and Harley was hit with a blast of frigid air. Reeling backwards, she could only watch in horror as the thing disappeared with a loud pop.

  Harley ended up flat on her back, more stunned by the Were’s vanishing act than by the magical blow. She sucked a breath into her aching lungs, staring at the dappled sun that peeked through the heavy canopy of leaves overhead. Then without warning, her view was blocked by Salvatore’s lean, darkly beautiful face.

  “Harley?” He’d changed back to human form, but the golden eyes continued to glow with power.

  Sitting up, Harley pushed the hair out of her face and studied the hard naked body crouched beside her. It was worth studying at any time, but for the moment Harley’s only interest was in the deep wounds that marred his bronzed flesh.

  “You’re injured,” she breathed.

  “Nothing that won’t heal,” he assured her, his expression concerned. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  To prove her point, Harley forced herself to her feet, knocking the dirt off her khaki shorts as Salvatore moved to pull on his jeans and T-shirt. His movements were stiff, but it was obvious he would recover, and Harley found her rush of adrenaline fading, leaving behind a vague unease.

  When she had awoken earlier in the day to discover herself wrapped tightly in Salvatore’s arms, she couldn’t deny she’d panicked.

  It wasn’t shock at having so thoroughly enjoyed their night of passion. The man was a flat-out no-holds-barred expert in bed. Even now her body tingled in all the right places at the memory of his skillful touch.

  No, it had been the realization that she had so easily forgotten that Salvatore was still little more than a stranger. A stranger that until a day ago she’d believed was her mortal enemy.

  For all she knew, he was playing an elaborate game that was going to end with her dead. She’d be a fool to trust him because he happened to be good in the sack.

  Besides, for the first time in her life she was…free.

  There was no Caine with his dire warnings of what would happen to her if she dared to leave his protection. No curs to constantly monitor her every movement.

  And with the amulet, not even Salvatore would be able to track her.

  So she’d taken off.

  Or at least, she’d tried to take off.

  Stupidly, she hadn’t been able to shake the persistent uncertainty that plagued her as she had headed off to discover her long overdue destiny.

  Salvatore claimed that her sisters, and even her mother, were alive. It could be a lie, of course. In fact, it probably was. Still, could she just walk away if there was the smallest chance of being reunited with the family she’d thought she’d lost forever?

  Walking alone through the trees, she’d at last accepted that she would never be satisfied until she discovered the truth of her sisters. Her destiny had waited for thirty years. It could hold off a few more days.

  So she’d turned around.

  Watching the annoyingly beautiful man tie his shoes and collect his gun and dagger, Harley ignored the treacherous leap of her heart.

  She was here to find her sisters.

  That was the reason she’d returned.

  The only reason.

  It had absolutely, positively nothing to do with Salvatore Giuliani, King of Weres.

  Busy reminding herself of that very pertinent fact, Harley was caught off guard when Salvatore whirled toward the trees behind him.

  “Curs,” he hissed.

  Belatedly catching the unmistakable smell, Harley tightened her grip on the gun. Dammit. The pack was already circling them.

  They’d been so occupied with the near-death fight with the zombie Were that they hadn’t even noticed the approaching trouble.

  “Just frigging perfect,” she muttered.

  Salvatore cupped her chin in his hand, his expression fierce.

  “Run.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  He growled in frustration. “Very soon we’re going to have a long conversation about the proper way of following orders.”

  “Any conversation about following orders is going to be very short and will probably involve bloodshed.”

  The golden light of his eyes flared, but before he could argue, two curs crashed into the clearing. Turning, Salvatore moved to stand directly before them, arrogantly confident despite the fact the two had already shifted into werewolves that were as large as ponies, and powerful enough to fill the air with a prickling heat.

  Sensing another cur approaching behind them, Harley silently slid behind a tree, her gaze still trained on Salvatore as he held out a hand toward the curs. Even from a distance she could feel a painful pressure filling the clearing.

  She didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but she suspected the curs weren’t going to be happy.

  She was right.

  With agonized whines the animals fell to the ground, their fur-covered bodies writhing. Still Salvatore continued to hold out his hand, his powerful compulsion hammering into the hapless curs.

  Harley winced at the sound of bones popping. Somehow Salvatore was forcing the curs back to human form.

  A painful process, if their howls were anything to go by.

  Fascinated by the macabre spectacle, Harley nearly missed when the cur behind her began to move forward. Pressing herself to the tree, she shook her head in disgust as she recognized the man who was trying to sneak up behind Salvatore.

  A red-headed, fiery-tempered cur, Frankie always had more brawn than brain.

  And thankfully, that included ramming headlong into a battle without making sure he wasn’t about to be out-flanked.

  Following silently in his wake, Harley pressed her gun to the back of his head.

  “Hello, Frankie,” she murmured. “Miss me?”

  With a foul curse, Frankie whirled around, murder in his eyes. “Bitch.”

  Before he could guess her intent, Harley hit the idiot on his hard head with the butt of her gun, the force sending him sprawling onto the ground, knocked out cold.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Done playing?” Salvatore asked, a faint smile curving his lips.

  Harley shrugged. “What now?”

  “Now we leave.”

  She waved her gun toward the unconscious curs. “What about the Three Stooges?”

  “I don’t think they’ll be in the mood to follow us. At least not for a few hours.” He moved to grab her hand, tugging her through the trees.

  “What did you do to them?”

  “Just a little reminder that I’m their king.”

  “Little?”

  “They’re still alive, aren’t they?”

  Harley grimaced. “I thought you didn’t have a God complex?”

  He chuckled, lifting her hand to brush his lips over her knuckles.

  “I don’t like to lose.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulled her hand from his grip, unable to concentrate when he was touching her. Or at least, she couldn’t concentrate on what she needed to concentrate on. Ripping off Salvatore’s clothes and taking the gorgeous Were in the bushes wasn’t going to help them escape. “So I assume that was the infamous Briggs?”

  Salvatore’s smile widened, as if he could read her mind.

  Jackass.

  “A projection of him.”

  Harley had heard of the trick, but she’d never encountered anyone with the magical power to per
form it.

  “He wasn’t really there?”

  Salvatore knocked aside a dead tree leaning across the path, leading her down a steep hill covered with leaves and loose stones. Absolutely perfect for sliding down and breaking her fool neck.

  “A portion of his essence was bound in the spell, but his physical form wasn’t present.”

  “He felt solid enough.”

  “Si. It’s the risky part of such a spell. Although he’s far away, he can allow his spirit to become a solid force. It gives him the ability to travel at will, but it also makes him vulnerable to attack.”

  “Then he was injured?”

  “His physical body carries the wounds he suffered in spirit form.”

  Satisfaction flared through her heart. She hated to waste a perfectly good bullet.

  “I’m glad.”

  Salvatore’s soft chuckle brushed over her skin. “My sentiments exactly.” Pausing, the Were sniffed the air. Then seeming to come to a decision, he continued down the hill. “This way.”

  “The river?” she muttered.

  “Curs hate water.”

  Harley licked her suddenly dry lips. “So do Weres.”

  “Which means the last thing they’ll expect is for us to travel by boat,” Salvatore pointed out, stepping through the last of the trees.

  Harley’s steps faltered as she realized that Salvatore had led them directly to a small wooden dock where a shiny new speedboat was moored.

  Damn.

  Like any sane Were, she hated the water.

  No, it was more than just hate.

  She was terrified of water.

  There was no rhyme or reason to her fear. It wasn’t as if she could drown. And as far as she knew, she’d never had a childhood trauma that included water.

  She only knew that the only good water was the kind that came out of a showerhead and then disappeared down a drain.

  “You also claimed that they wouldn’t be able to find us if we were wearing the amulets,” she accused, biting her bottom lip as Salvatore nimbly leapt into the boat, and with a tiny surge of his power, had the motor running.

  He glanced back to watch her far more cautious approach, his golden eyes sparkling with rueful amusement.

  “Why did I know you would throw that in my face?”

  “Do you want to be in the middle of a raging river when that demented Briggs attacks again?”

  He paused, easily sensing her tension. “You’re scared of the water.”

  Grudgingly she moved down the dock, climbing into the boat with an awkward stiffness.

  “I’m not scared. I’m…”

  “You’re?”

  “Naturally cautious.” The boat rocked and Harley hastily dropped onto the padded seat next to Salvatore. “Have you even driven a boat before?”

  He shrugged, reaching over to untie the line. “How hard can it be?”

  Harley popped to her feet, her heart stuck in her throat. “No way.”

  Salvatore pushed her firmly back into her seat, then before she could protest, he was pulling away from the dock and gunning the boat through the water.

  “Don’t worry, Harley,” he said over the roar of the motor. “I’m not going to turn us over.”

  “Capsize,” she gritted. “It’s called capsize.”

  He laughed. “Fine. I won’t capsize us.”

  The river was high and choppy, lashing at the boat as if determined to smash it to tiny bits. Harley’s stomach threatened to revolt, and she grimly latched her attention onto Salvatore’s finely chiseled profile.

  In the late afternoon sunlight his skin glowed with a rich bronze, his raven hair whipping in the wind. He looked hard and dangerous and ruthlessly male.

  “And what if Briggs makes a surprise visit?” she demanded.

  He flashed a teasing grin. “Then capsizing will be the least of our concerns.”

  “Not helping.”

  “Cara, I don’t know how Briggs managed to find me, but I’m certain it will take him time to heal. This is our best chance to get to Styx.”

  She clutched the edges of her seat. “I should never have come back.”

  Salvatore kept his gaze trained on the gigantic barge that was headed in their direction, but Harley didn’t miss the sudden tightening of his hands on the wheel.

  “Why did you?”

  “Come back?” She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “Not nearly so much as why you left.”

  “Why wouldn’t I leave? You’re being hunted by a demented, magically enhanced Were and a large number of pissed off curs,” she smoothly lied. No need explaining her fascination with him was what truly scared the heck out of her. His arrogance had already reached epic status. “Only a lunatic would hang around you.”

  “If that’s the reason you left, then you wouldn’t have snuck away while I slept.”

  “I snuck away because I knew you would try to stop me. I didn’t want to argue.”

  He snorted. “Since when?”

  “Maybe you should just concentrate on driving.”

  Caine paced the small clearing, halting before the three curs who knelt in the dirt.

  He wasn’t surprised he was too late.

  In fact, after he’d realized Giuliani and Harley had found the amulets he’d hidden in the tunnels, he was shocked the fools had stumbled across them at all.

  Unlike his soldiers, Caine hadn’t run blindly after prey he couldn’t track. Instead, he had called for the witch who had made the amulets, knowing she could cast a spell to reveal their location.

  At least their general location.

  Magic was never an exact science.

  Which was why he preferred not to depend on it.

  “Forgive us, master, the Were overwhelmed us,” Tio, the cur nearest to him, muttered, his face pressed to the ground. “We failed you.”

  “His power,” a second cur, Drew, muttered. “Shit. I never felt anything like it.”

  Caine’s jaw clenched. He didn’t like to be reminded of Giuliani’s power. Or how easily he could enforce his will on curs.

  “Just tell me what happened, you idiots.”

  In unison the three soldiers climbed to their feet, the two naked curs still trembling from Giuliani’s attack while Frankie was nursing a wound to his head that was swiftly healing. Harley’s work, no doubt.

  Tio, his dark hair matted with sweat, answered. “We were searching for the prisoners as you commanded, and…”

  “And what?”

  “I don’t know what the hell happened. One minute we were near the highway, and the next thing I knew we were here.”

  “Did Giuliani call you?”

  “I don’t think so.” The cur shook his head in confusion. “He was busy fighting with another Were.”

  “Harley?”

  “No. Some pureblood with red eyes,” Frankie said. “Christ, he gave me the willies.”

  Briggs. Caine clenched his hands at his sides. Damn the Were. He’d gone to great lengths to keep his pack from coming in contact with the magic-wielding pureblood. Caine might be able to convince the curs he’d been granted a mystical vision of the future; after all, they wanted to believe he possessed the power to offer them the chance to become purebloods. But they’d be far less eager to follow him if they suspected his vision had forced him into a partnership with a traitorous Were who had sold his soul for power.

  Even curs had standards.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Harley snuck up behind him and shot him in the head.” Drew said.

  “Stupid woman,” Caine muttered, his heart freezing at the danger the female had put herself in. Dammit, he needed her. Or at least, he needed her blood. “Is she trying to get herself killed?”

  “Didn’t matter,” Frankie said. “Giuliani shifted and attacked the other Were like a madman. I thought for sure he’d kill him, but then the stranger just disappeared.”

  “Freakiest thing I ever saw.” Tio’s eyes were wide. “And
that’s saying something.”

  “Did Giuliani manage to injure the Were before he disappeared?”

  “Mauled the hell out of him,” Drew said.

  A chill bloomed in Caine’s heart. Briggs had always been smugly confident that his power was greater than the King of Weres. Christ, he boasted of it with nauseating frequency.

  What if he was wrong?

  “Damn.”

  With a frown of suspicion, Frankie moved forward. “You don’t seem surprised that there’s a Were out there who can simply disappear.”

  With a vicious backhand, Caine sent the cur flying backwards, blood dripping from his mouth.

  “Maybe you should concentrate on finding the prisoners you allowed to escape before I have your pelt made into seat covers.”

  Effectively reminded of who was boss, the three curs scrambled to obey his command.

  “Yes, master.”

  Waiting until the curs had disappeared through the trees, Caine turned his attention to the blond-haired woman with plump cheeks and a lush body.

  “Vikki.”

  Dressed in tight denim shorts and a tiny tank top that barely covered her generous breasts, she sashayed across the uneven ground to press against him.

  “You need me, lover?”

  “You can sense them?”

  She closed her eyes to concentrate on the spell she’d cast before leaving his lair.

  “Distantly.” She pointed her hand toward the river. “That way.”

  “Go with the curs and keep me informed of their location.”

  Opening her eyes, she pouted at his sharp command. “I want to stay with you.”

  He yanked from her clinging touch. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

  Fury raced through her pale eyes as she gave a toss of her curly hair and turned to join the curs.

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t try to capture them. I just want to know where they are.”

  Without turning, she lifted her hand to flip him off. “Whatever.”

  There was a faint rustle of brush before Andre appeared at Caine’s side. The muscular cur with long brown hair and black eyes was Caine’s second in command, and one of the few people that Caine actually trusted.

  “How do you intend to overpower two full-blooded Weres who will be expecting you to attack?” Andre asked.

  “A worry for later.”