“He was my greatest competition toward claiming the throne.”
Harley lifted her brows. “Is there really a throne?”
“Of course.” He seemed startled she would even ask. “It’s a massive wooden chair with a lot of gilt and velvet cushions. It’s also bespelled so that only the true king can sit on it. It helps clear up any doubt as to the next heir.”
She grimaced. No doubt there was also a big, gaudy crown with a lot of flashy jewels.
“And your contender’s ass wasn’t royal enough to fit?”
A feral smile curled his lips. “He wasn’t in the mood to try after I ripped out his throat.”
“Nice.” Harley tossed her head, hoping he didn’t notice her tiny shiver of alarm. Salvatore Giuliani would make a very bad enemy. Something to remember. “It’s no wonder he’s chummy with Caine. They both hate your guts.”
“Actually, it’s more than a wonder. It’s nothing less than a miracle.”
“Why?”
“Because, after I ripped out Briggs’s throat, I cut off his head, carved out his heart, and burned his carcass.” The golden eyes flashed. “He should be dead.”
“Yeah,” she breathed unsteadily. “You’d think.”
Salvatore watched Harley grimace, belatedly realizing that it might not be the best strategy to reveal just how brutal he could be when the occasion demanded. Not if he was to convince her that her only hope of safety was in his hands.
Then he shrugged. Unless Caine developed the ability to think with his brain instead of his ego, Salvatore was going to have to kill him. And anyone else who threatened Harley.
Perhaps it was best she knew the truth from the start.
As if coming to the same conclusion, Harley breathed in a deep breath and met his gaze squarely.
Brave and tough.
Just his kind of woman.
“Have you considered the possibility that maybe the Were who’s tag teaming with Caine isn’t Briggs?”
Ah, if only it were that simple.
“No, the description fits too perfectly.” Salvatore shook his head in disgust. “Cristo. I should have known his death could not be so simple.”
Her sharp bark of laughter echoed through the cell. “You did everything but eat his carcass for dinner. That isn’t simple by anyone’s standard.”
“Not for most Weres, but I already suspected that he was dabbling in magic.”
She took a sharp step backwards, her expression oddly wary. “Weres can do magic?”
His smiled with rueful amusement. If he could do magic, he wouldn’t be stuck in this damned cell.
“They aren’t born with the ability to perform magic like a witch, but any creature—” He broke off as he realized he wasn’t being entirely honest. “Well, any creature besides a vampire can be imbued with magic.”
“Imbued? I don’t understand.”
“There are ancient demons who can share their powers with others.”
She considered a moment, her expression dubious. “I haven’t met many ancient demons, but they’ve never struck me as the sort to share anything, let alone their power.”
“Very perceptive, cara,” he said. “Only the very stupid or the very desperate would agree to become a vessel for borrowed magic. The cost is far too high for whatever reward you hope to gain.”
“What’s the cost?”
“Your life, if you’re lucky.”
She hesitated before asking the obvious question. “And if you’re not lucky?”
“Your soul.”
“Damn.” The hazel eyes were troubled as she glanced toward the door, perhaps realizing for the first time just how truly perilous their situation was. “Why would this Briggs be willing to give up his soul?”
It wasn’t a tough question to answer. Like Caine, Briggs had always been an egotistical jackass who assumed he was a God-given gift to Weres.
The mere thought he wasn’t going to be top dog (quite literally), was enough to send him over the edge.
“He’s nearly a century older than myself, and until my birth he was considered the leading candidate to become the next King of Weres.”
Harley caught on quickly. “And you stole his thunder?”
“What can I say?” He smiled with a faux modesty. “It was known since I was in the cradle that I was destined for greatness.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered. “What makes you suspect this Briggs is borrowing some demon’s power?”
“Besides the fact he came back to life?”
She waved aside his logic. “You said you already suspected he was dabbling in magic before his creepy resurrection. Why?”
Damn, the woman didn’t miss a thing.
“Once a Were reaches puberty and begins to shift, his power is more or less set. It’s possible to learn fighting skills or to become more cunning, but the level of power doesn’t change.”
She considered for a moment, then she gave an abrupt nod. “Okay, that makes sense.”
“After it became obvious that I would outrank Briggs, he disappeared from Rome for several years, and when he returned I began to sense he had gained strength that he shouldn’t have possessed.” Salvatore shuddered. “And, of course, there were his eyes.”
“His eyes?”
“They stayed crimson even in his human form.”
“What does that mean?”
“That he’s more wolf than human. He maintains his intelligence and cunning, but any human morals and ethics have been replaced by sheer animal instinct.” Salvatore’s smile was sour. “Not that he had many morals to begin with.”
“And he has black magic.”
“Si.” Salvatore’s jaw tightened. “He will kill without mercy or remorse.”
There was a sharp flare of alarm in her eyes. For all her bravery, Harley had the sense to be frightened when she should be.
Thank God. He had enough soldiers willing to throw their lives away.
“Did you ever confront him about his power boost?”
“It was not my place so long as the previous king still sat on the throne.”
She snorted. “I find it hard to believe there was ever a time you didn’t assume you were the boss.”
Salvatore ground his teeth, recalling those long, dark centuries as the previous king retreated from his duties, leaving his subjects in disarray and vulnerable to attack. It was then that the Weres had begun to falter, and even with all his power, Salvatore had yet to halt the slow decline.