He turned back, sighing as he sensed Harley shift so she could see the door. She might be willing to concede his first shot at Caine, but there was no way in hell she was going to hide behind him.
Harley wasn’t the cowering sort.
A beat passed before the door was shoved open and Caine entered the room. Salvatore’s wolf stirred, instinctively reacting to having a male so close to his mate.
It was his purely human side, however, that was provoked by the man’s smooth blond beauty and smug expression.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he finally encountered the cur who had been a pain in his royal butt, but it wasn’t this slender man dressed in faded jeans and a black muscle shirt, who looked like he should be on the beaches of California instead of leading a cur revolt.
He wanted to smash that too-handsome face.
Or maybe he would just rip off his head and be done with it.
The head ripping off became much more likely as the bastard studied Harley as if she were his favorite bone.
“Harley, my love, you’ve been a very bad girl,” Caine taunted.
“Screw you,” Harley muttered.
The blue eyes glowed with a hunger that set Salvatore’s nerves on edge.
“Later, pet,” the cur drawled. “And only if you behave.”
Salvatore stepped close enough to the bars to feel the burn of silver.
“Careful, cur,” he warned, his voice thick with warning.
Stupidly confident that Salvatore was contained in his cell, Caine folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, well,” he sneered. “If it isn’t the glorious King of Weres.”
Salvatore glanced toward Harley. “I like glorious better than uber.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“Of course, you’re not so glorious right now,” Caine snapped, obviously not pleased at having his moment of gloating interrupted. “I’ve seen better looking Ipar demons.”
With insulting slowness, Salvatore returned his attention to the cur.
“Easy to be brave when you have me locked in a cage. It would be a lot more impressive if you let me out and faced me like a man.”
Caine laughed. “Do I look like a putz?”
“You look like a cur with a death wish.”
“Just the opposite. I intend to become immortal.”
“Hard to become immortal after I’ve chopped your head off and fed it to the rats.” Salvatore paused, narrowing his gaze. “Still, just out of morbid curiosity, how do you intend to acquire this immortality?”
Caine shrugged. “You aren’t the only one with skill in the laboratory.”
“Skill and blind hope are two different things. There’s nothing in a test tube that can change you into a Were.”
Caine tilted his chin, the glow of a true zealot shimmering in his eyes.
“Obviously, there is. I saw it in a vision.”
“Did this vision happen to occur while you were indulging in some pharmaceutical pleasures?”
“This isn’t a joke,” Caine growled.
“Good. I’m not laughing. Where did this vision come from?”
“None of your damned business, Giuliani.”
Enough. Salvatore wasn’t a patient werewolf under the best of circumstances, and at the moment he was sore, filthy, and trapped in a silver cage. His patience was nonexistent.
Without warning his power lashed out, ramming Caine into the wall and holding him there with an invisible but very tangible force.
“It’s Your Majesty, cur,” he corrected, his voice edged with ice.
Caine struggled, but even with Salvatore weakened, the cur was no match for him.
“Shit.”
Salvatore smiled with cruel satisfaction. “How did you get the vision?”
“It was a Were.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I don’t know.” Caine struggled to breathe, his perfect features twisted in a grimace of pain. “Dammit, he didn’t give me a name.”
“Describe him.”
The cur tilted back his head, the veins of his neck popping out as Salvatore’s power squeezed his body with brutal force.
“Short,” he gritted. “Brown hair, English accent.”
“You’re keeping something from me.” Salvatore cursed the silver bars that prevented him from getting his hands on the cur. The long-distance torture was taking its toll. “What is it?”
Caine’s eyes flashed as he struggled to shift. An impossible task so long as Salvatore held him in his control.
“I’m going to kill you,” the cur hissed.
Salvatore tightened his grip. “Wrong answer.”
The cur’s labored breathing echoed through the room as he glared at Salvatore with sheer hatred.
Far preferable to the smug grin.
“His eyes were red even when he was in human form,” he at last ground out.
Pure shock gripped Salvatore. Merda.
It couldn’t be.
He had killed the bastard nearly a century ago.
Still, the description was unmistakable.
“Briggs,” he breathed.
Harley moved to his side. “Do you know him?”
“Obviously not as well as I thought I did.”
Across the room, Caine snarled in pain. “Release me.”
Salvatore gritted his teeth, cursing his weakened state. His hold on the cur was hanging by a thread.
With the last of his strength, he focused on Caine.
“Not until you’ve offered me a quid pro quo. Get the keys and unlock this cell.”
“Rot in hell.”
“Don’t make me ask you again,” Salvatore gritted, but the power behind his words faltered, and with a low growl Caine lurched forward, breaking the invisible bonds that held him.
“Bastard,” the cur breathed, reaching behind his back to pull out a handgun he had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
Salvatore didn’t even try to regain command of the infuriated Caine. Instead, he instinctively turned to wrap Harley in his arms, driving her to the ground and covering her with his body.
Chapter Five
It happened so fast, it was little more than a blur to Harley.
One minute she was standing beside Salvatore, and the next she was flat on her back with the damned Were perched on top of her.
She flinched as the sound of a gun firing echoed painfully through the small room, the bullets flying harmlessly overhead, striking the cement wall and filling the air with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
The shooting came to a halt and Harley heard the slam of the door as Caine beat a hasty retreat.