Beyond the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “No. You…”

  Caine’s hand shot out to grab his companion by the throat. “Stay. Here.”

  “Got it,” the cur rasped. “Stay here.”

  Ignoring the bile that rose in his throat, Caine headed for the small cluster of trees. This was what he’d signed up for, wasn’t it? A little tit for a little tat.

  He just wanted to get his damned tit so he could be done with the nasty tat.

  There was an odd shimmer among the shadows, then the outline of Briggs appeared, his crimson eyes glowing like the pits of hell. Obediently, Caine fell to his knees.

  “Master.”

  A blast of cold swirled through the air, crawling over Caine’s skin.

  “Scurrying back to your lair like the spineless coward you are, eh, Caine?”

  “I have my pack searching for Salvatore. It’s only a matter of time before they capture him.” The lies tripped easily off Caine’s tongue, his head lowered to hide his wary expression. “I need to make sure I have a cell prepared that can hold him.”

  “There’s no need. Our plans have changed.”

  Caine stiffened. A change in plan usually meant the first plan had gone to hell. Not what he wanted to hear.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Congratulations, cur,” Briggs hissed. “Your day of glory is at hand. Soon you will be transformed, as you always dreamed.”

  Caine slowly lifted his head, suspicious. Briggs had always been far too vague on how this transformation was supposed to take place.

  “How? Harley has escaped.”

  “Forget the bitch.”

  “But…”

  The crimson eyes flared with lethal anger. “I must have Salvatore.”

  Caine swallowed his demand to know the hows, whens, and wheres of the mystical transformation that had been promised to him for years.

  His personal vision had revealed his blood running over barren stone, shimmering with the power only true Weres possessed, but interpreting such a vision was always difficult.

  “My pack is on his trail.”

  “Salvatore will destroy your pathetic excuse for a pack without breaking a sweat.”

  Caine ground his teeth. “I’m aware of Salvatore’s superior strength.”

  “Then you will pull back your servants and allow me to deal with the bastard.”

  “Deal with him, or kill him?”

  “Oh, I’ll kill him in due time.” The Were’s voice was thick with anticipation. “First, I have need of him alive.”

  The memory of the violent battlefield he’d left behind spoiled Caine’s pleasure at savoring Salvatore’s impending downfall. Briggs might boast about his plans for the King of Weres, but Caine was no longer willing to believe that Briggs was invincible.

  “You intend to capture him?”

  “Yes.”

  “By yourself?”

  An icy power slammed into Caine’s chest, stopping his heart.

  “Surely you don’t doubt my ability to do so?”

  Caine’s hands dug into the dirt, the pain radiating from his chest through his body in sharp bursts.

  “I would never be so foolish,” he groaned.

  “I wonder.” The repulsive smell nearly choked Caine as Briggs moved closer. “Could it be that your loyalty is wavering, Caine?”

  Caine pressed his head to the ground. Damn. He’d gone too far. Briggs wouldn’t tolerate having his superiority over Salvatore questioned. Certainly not by a mere cur.

  Time for damage control.

  “No, master, but Salvatore has often joined powers with the vampires. He will be next to impossible to capture if he is protected by the bloodsuckers.”

  Briggs snorted, not so easily deceived. “Then it’s fortunate I have no need to capture Salvatore.”

  “You believe he’ll turn himself over to you?”

  “That’s exactly what I believe.”

  “I’m going to admit that would be my last guess.” Caine was careful to speak into the mud. Briggs was still too close for his peace of mind. “Salvatore might be arrogant, but he isn’t suicidal.”

  “No, but he’s desperate to kill me. Once I offer him the opportunity, he’ll be more than eager to join me.”

  “He’ll sense it’s a trap.”

  Briggs laughed. A hollow, sinister sound that made the distant coyotes howl in alarm.

  Gallows humor. Had to love it.

  “And yet, he’ll still come. Salvatore is nothing if not predictable.”

  Warily, Caine lifted his head, meeting the crimson gaze. “I assume I have some role in all of this?”

  “There are a pack of curs camped near your lair, believing you still hold Salvatore.”

  Caine shrugged. He’d received a call from his pack the minute the curs had surrounded his house.

  “They’re being watched.”

  “I want you to bring them to me here.”

  As the words left Briggs’s lips, an image of barren caves below an abandoned Victorian church seared through Caine’s mind. Not just figuratively seared, but actually and painfully seared. Like a map had been branded into his brain tissue.

  Holy hell. Hadn’t the bastard heard of GPS?

  “Why?”

  “Because I want Salvatore to suffer before he dies,” Briggs said, his hatred for the King of Weres pulsing in the air. “There are few things that give me more pleasure than the thought of watching Salvatore’s anguish as he’s forced to kill one of his loyal servants.”

  Caine hid his shudder. He’d always considered himself a badass who ruled his pack with an iron fist, but Briggs made him seem like a freaking pansy in comparison.

  “Yeah, I can just imagine.”

  “Ah, but you won’t have to imagine,” Briggs taunted. “You’ll be at my side.”

  Rising to his feet, Caine covertly stepped back from the biting cold that surrounded Briggs.

  “And I’ll be given the secret to unlocking the Were’s blood?”

  “Don’t worry, Caine. Soon you’ll be given the reward you so richly deserve,” Briggs crooned, the crimson eyes mocking. “Don’t fail me.”

  There was a loud pop, and the Were disappeared.

  Caine didn’t hesitate. Spinning on his heel, he darted back to the Jeep. No way he was waiting around for an encore performance.

  Glad he’d taken the doors out of his vehicle, Caine vaulted into his seat and rammed the Jeep into drive.

  “Shit.”

  Andre gripped the dashboard as Caine thundered over a wooden bridge without slowing.

  “Are you okay?”

  Caine shivered, the nasty cold still clinging to his skin.

  “Soon you’ll be given the reward you so richly deserve…”

  He should be delirious. He should be tap dancing on top of the freaking world.

  Instead he wished that Briggs had taken his damned visions to some other gullible cur.

  “What I am is screwed,” he muttered.

  Andre narrowed his dark gaze. “Do I need to scout a new lair? The Bahamas? Australia? The Antarctic?”

  Caine had to admit it was tempting.

  He could keep driving and start over far, far away from the feuding Weres. To hell with becoming a pureblood.

  Then he gave a shake of his head. “It’s too late to run,” he grimly admitted. “There’s nothing left but to hope we can survive this fucking train crash.”

  Salvatore paced the floor of Harley’s bedroom, the disposable cell phone that Santiago had left for him pressed to his ear. Listening to Hess’s recorded voice echo in his ear, he halted to gaze down at the black-and-gold bed that was still rumpled and warm from his last bout of mind-blowing sex with Harley.

  Cristo, the woman was teaching him a whole new meaning of paradise.

  It was more than the raw, feral pleasure that exploded between them. More than the sense of destiny that hummed through his veins. More than the relentless ache to keep his mate near.

  It was the simple, uncomplicated plea
sure of a man who had just made love to the woman who filled his heart with joy.

  The scent of rich vanilla teased at his nose. Salvatore turned to watch as Harley strolled from the attached bathroom, a white towel wrapped around her slender body, her damp hair clinging to her bare shoulders.

  He snapped shut the phone and tossed it on the bed, hiding a smile as Harley allowed her gaze to covertly slide over his naked form before jerking back to his face.

  “Something wrong?” she demanded.

  “I’ve tried to contact Hess, but I go straight to voice-mail.”

  “You think something’s happened to him?”

  Salvatore shrugged, not bothering to hide his frustration. He was the perfect example of a control freak. Delegating gave him a rash, and asking others for help, especially the brigade of the living dead, was worse than chewing on silver.

  “It’s impossible to know, and until Briggs is dead, along with his ability to control the minds of curs, I can’t take the risk of tracking him down. I must depend on Styx to send out a search party.”

  Attempting to appear nonchalant, Harley moved to the bed, burrowing beneath the comforter to hide her delectable body.

  “Speaking of Styx, what do you plan to do once he arrives with his Ravens?” she demanded.

  As always, Salvatore was fascinated by Harley’s odd combination of fierce, brazen desire and blushing female reserve.

  Lured like a moth to the flame, he crossed to perch on the edge of the mattress, his fingers toying with a wet strand of hair that draped over her shoulder. Instantly his frustration eased.

  “I intend to travel with them back to Chicago.”

  “And then?”

  “Is there a reason for your curiosity?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss just below her ear. “Do you have plans for me, cara?”

  She stiffened, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air.

  “Several.”

  “Several?” His tongue traced the line of her collarbone. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Most of them include a muzzle and a silver leash.”

  “Kinky.”

  She pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him back with a chiding expression.

  “Does anything deflate that oversized ego of yours?”

  He grabbed her hand to pull it to his mouth, nibbling on the pad of her thumb.

  “Not when I have you in my bed.”

  “Salvatore…” Her words broke off as she frowned with a sudden distraction, turning her head to sniff at her outstretched arm. “Good God.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just took a shower.”

  “You should have waited for me,” he teased, keeping a cautious watch on the glitter in her hazel eyes. Harley didn’t have to be able to shift to be dangerous. “I would have scrubbed your back.”

  “I scrubbed my own back, so the question is…” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I still smell like you?”

  “Ah,” Salvatore breathed, forgetting the danger as a primitive, wholly uncivilized surge of satisfaction raced through him.

  His mating musk had been in full bloom during their rousing bout of sex. She would carry his mark for days.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘That what you don’t know can’t hurt you’?” he asked, his smile wry.

  She jerked her hand from his grasp. “You’re hiding something from me.”

  “No. If you want the truth I’ll give it to you, but…”

  “If you tell me I can’t handle the truth, I swear I’ll rip your tongue out.”

  Salvatore studied her in silence. The pale, perfect features. The clear hazel eyes. The full, lush lips.

  A face that was forever engraved on his heart.

  To tell or not to tell?

  He hadn’t intended to reveal the mating. Not until he was done killing Briggs and putting the curs back in their place so he had time to concentrate on a full-scale charm offensive.

  For all his outrageous arrogance, he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend that Harley was ready and eager to be his mate. Hell, she was still trying to decide whether he was friend or enemy.

  He didn’t want to scare her off before he could do some serious wooing.

  Then again, he was beginning to understand this female.

  She would badger and pester and be as annoying as possible until she was satisfied he’d revealed what she wanted to know.

  “Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Her jaw tightened with impatience. “Giuliani.”

  He caught and held her gaze. “You carry my scent because you’re my mate.”

  Her face paled, her eyes wide with a stunned disbelief. Salvatore swallowed a sigh. Well, he hadn’t expected high-fives and backflips. Still, it would be nice if she didn’t look as if she’d just been told she had the ebola virus.

  “Mate?” She shook her head. “No freaking way.”

  He shrugged, disguising his disappointment with indifference.

  “You asked.”

  She scooted to press her back against the headboard, bending her knees and wrapping her arms around them in an unconsciously defensive position.

  “I may have been raised by a pack of curs instead of your precious purebloods, but even I know that true matings disappeared centuries ago,” she charged. “Caine always claimed that they were nothing more than a myth to begin with.”

  Salvatore’s temper flared. Until the mating bond was complete, even the mention of another male was enough to stir his Neanderthal urges.

  “What would a cur know of our history?”

  “So he lied when he said that Weres no longer mated?”

  With an effort, he reined in his overly possessive wolf. “It’s true that matings were thought to have faded, along with many other Were abilities.”

  “Then obviously you’ve made a mistake.” She licked her lips, her voice vibrating with unsettled nerves. “We can’t be mated.”

  He smiled wryly. She’d helped him escape from Caine with unwavering courage. She’d faced a demented Briggs without flinching. But the mere mention of being his mate tweaked her out.

  Should he be offended or pleased he could inspire such a violent reaction?

  “I didn’t say we were mated,” he corrected, deliberately stroking his fingers up her bare arm. She shivered beneath his touch, her sweet vanilla scent mixing with his musk in a combination that set his blood on fire. “I said you were my mate.”

  “Is this some sort of trick?”

  “More like the irony of fate.”

  Not amused, she glared at him. “Would you just tell me what’s going on? Why do you think I’m your mate?”

  “When a male pureblood discovers his true mate, he produces a very specific musk to mark her.”

  There was a short, dangerous pause. “Mark her?”

  “It’s a warning to other males to back off.”

  “You covered me in your scent to scare off other men?”

  He skimmed his fingers back down to her wrist, unable to pretend even a token of regret. If he had his way, Harley would be carrying his scent for the rest of eternity.

  “It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shifted until he was pressed against her hip, able to feel her searing heat through the comforter.

  “Harley, as much as I hate to admit it, there are a few forces beyond my ability to control.” He brushed his finger over the lush curve of her lips. “Besides, the scent will fade in time.”

  Her glower remained, but the gold flecks in her hazel eyes shimmered with potent awareness. Salvatore was instantly erect and ready to please.

  “You’re certain?”

  “So long as you don’t complete the mating bond or haul me back to your bed.”

  “It just disappears?”

  His gaze drifted down to the pulse hammering at the base of her throat.

  “Si.”

  �
��And I’m no longer your mate?”

  “You will always be my mate, cara.” He bent forward, his lips touching that fluttering pulse with a stark yearning. “For all eternity. Nothing can change that.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  For a crazed, breathless moment Harley melted beneath Salvatore’s experienced touch. She was beyond denying that she wanted this Were with a hunger that was on the wrong side of obsessive. Even after three first-rate, heart-stopping orgasms, her body was ready to go for number four.

  Her mind, however, was in stunned mode.

  God Almighty.

  Was Salvatore completely nuts?

  The mere thought she could be his mate took insanity to a whole new level. Not only were true matings nothing more than an urban legend, but they barely knew one another.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. A liquid ache between her legs reminded her that they knew each other intimately. But mind-blowing sex didn’t equal soul mates.

  So why wasn’t she laughing it off as a bad joke? Or sympathizing with his obvious descent into raving lunacy?

  This thundering panic implied an emotional reaction she wasn’t prepared to admit.

  Not even to herself.

  With a sharp motion, she pushed off the bed, keeping the damp towel wrapped around her shivering body. In silence she paced from one end of the black-and-gold room to the other, intensely aware of Salvatore’s searing gaze following her every move.

  At last he rose to his feet and crossed to stand directly in her path, his body gloriously naked and his expression somber.

  “Harley?”

  She jerked up her head to meet his brooding gaze. “You can’t just assume I’m your mate because I smell like you,” she abruptly informed him. “I mean, the past few days have been crazy. This could all be nothing more than stress.”

  “Male Weres produce musk only when in the presence of their mates,” he said. “But it’s more than just the change in my scent. I knew you were my mate the moment we met.”

  “How?”

  “Here.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest, directly over the steady beat of his heart. “You’re stealing my powers. Along with most of my sanity.”

  She eyed him warily, wondering if this was all some bizarre joke.

  “I believe the sanity thing, but I don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about with your powers. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know how to steal them.”