"Why should I believe you?" She sucked in a gasp as a distant howl echoed in the background. "Shit."
Salvatore's every instinct shivered in warning. He recognized that howl.
It could only belong to a werewolf.
"Listen to me, cara. You must get out of there. Get out of there now."
Her breath rasped over the phone. "This is starting to feel like a really bad slash-and-trash movie."
Salvatore motioned Hess to even greater speed. "What?"
"You know, when the police call to tell the babysitter that the threatening calls are coming from inside the house?"
He gave a shake of his head, wondering if her fear had driven her nuts.
"I do not know this movie, but—" He bit off his words as a sudden static punished his sensitive ear. "Darcy!"
The static was cut off as the line went dead. Throwing aside the phone, Salvatore glared toward the cur at his side.
"Have me at the warehouse in the next fifteen minutes or I'll eat your heart for breakfast."
Chapter Thirteen
Darcy shoved the phone in her pocket as she warily studied the woman standing near the railing above her. Yowser. She didn't look like the sort of woman who would prowl around filthy warehouses. Not with that tall, willowy frame and sleek black hair that framed a perfect oval face and slanted eyes.
She was more an exotic butterfly that should be drenched in silk and champagne.
Still, Darcy was smart enough not to be taken in by appearances. If the past few days had taught her nothing else, it was that the most beautiful, elegant creatures in the world were also the most lethal.
A fact that was only reinforced as the strange woman glided down the stairs. Yes, glided, Darcy acknowledged with a shiver. There was no other word for it.
The woman wasn't human. Or at least not entirely human.
Darcy hastily backed toward the closest window. Having an escape route nearby seemed a handy thing. Not as handy as a gun, of course, but since she didn't think she could pull the trigger even if she had one, the window was the best she was going to do.
"So, you are the mysterious, oh-so-fascinating Darcy Smith," the woman drawled, her tone raising the hair on the back of Darcy's neck. "I thought that your pictures must have been doing you a disservice, but I see you truly are as ... common as I thought."
Common?
Well, Darcy had certainly been called worse. But not with that precise hint of malice, or that very personal hatred that shimmered in the dark eyes.
Somehow she had managed to piss off this woman, and now she was determined to make Darcy pay.
"Sorry to disappoint," she muttered. "Have we met?"
"You'd already be dead if we had met," the woman growled, her dark eyes beginning to glow with a peculiar light.
Another chill inched down Darcy's spine as she instinctively reached to touch the broken window behind her. She was beginning to recognize that distinctive glow.
The woman was a Were.
Which meant that Salvatore was lying through his perfect white teeth (a seeming tradition for demons of all persuasions). And that Darcy was in very, very deep shit. She might be able to hold her own against most humans, but she didn't believe for a moment she could manage to fend off a ravaging wolf.
"I'm going to take a wild leap here and guess you don't like me much." Darcy attempted to distract the ... thing prowling ever closer. "Do you mind sharing what I've done to offend you?"
A shimmer of energy could be seen glowing around the slender body. "You're offensive."
"Just overall offensive, or could you narrow that down a little?"
"You're human." She turned her head to spit on the floor.
Darcy gave a lift of her brows. "That's it? I'm offensive because I'm human? Rather harsh."
"You're offensive because Salvatore would prefer you to me," she hissed.
Well . . . cripes.
That's all she needed. A psychopathic ex-girlfriend. One who also happened to be a werewolf.
Thanks a buttload, Salvatore.
Darcy covertly began to ease the broken window upward. She preferred not to have to plunge through the ragged remains of glass if she could avoid it.
She was funny like that.
"Then Salvatore doesn't know you're here?" she countered.
"Of course not." The glow in the almond eyes became downright spooky. "The fool is so besotted with you that he would kill me if he learned I had so much as crossed your precious path."
So, Salvatore hadn't been lying.
A wave of relief washed through Darcy. Foolish, of course, when there was a very good chance she was about to be eaten by his angry girlfriend.
She pressed the window up a few more inches.
"And yet, here you are," she said in a tight tone.
"He shouldn't have sent me away. I may be a cur, but I'm not his bitch to be dumped and ditched." The shimmer became more distinct as the air filled with a prickling heat. "He'll pay for that."
Darcy swallowed the lump in her throat.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Look, I'm sure this is all no more than a misunderstanding. I barely even know Salvatore."
The window was nearly half open. Just a few more minutes. Oh please, God, give me a few more minutes.
"In fact, we're practically strangers. Maybe if you went back to talk with him this could all be sorted out."
"I intend to sort it out now."
With a hair-raising growl the woman abruptly leaped forward, her slender form smoothly changing from human to wolf before Darcy's stunned gaze.
Shock held her motionless for a heart-stopping moment. Being told that werewolves existed was one thing; watching a woman transform into a towering beast was quite another.
There was something oddly awe inspiring about the sight.
And something starkly terrifying.
Belatedly coming to her senses, Darcy barely managed to dive to the side as the Were landed only inches away. There was a frustrated growl as the Were turned her head to reveal the glowing red eyes and teeth that looked custom made to rip through flesh.
Oy. There was nothing human left in those horrible eyes. Nothing that could be reasoned with anyway.
Crab walking backward, Darcy kept her eyes firmly on the werewolf, who was crouching low as she prepared to leap again.
She didn't have a clue how she was supposed to fight off the beast, but she did know she had to try. As much as she preferred a nonviolent solution to the encounter, she was smart enough to realize that it was going to be difficult to reason with a pouncing werewolf.
There was a low growl of warning and the animal was streaking forward. Instinctively, Darcy kicked out with both legs. It was a desperate act, but astonishingly she managed a direct strike to the werewolf's muzzle, and with a sharp yip the werewolf halted to give a shake of her head.