“Creep,” Harley muttered, astonished by the pang of envy.
Okay, the woman was drop-dead gorgeous with her pale skin and slanted emerald eyes. But what woman with a brain larger than a pea drove around country back roads in a skimpy black gown that barely covered the essentials and three-inch heels?
Slut shoes out here? Really?
Harley had never fantasized about becoming one of those upmarket women who bartered beauty for wealth. She liked women who kicked ass.
Give her Lara Croft over Cinderella any day.
“Don’t worry, cara,” Salvatore drawled. “I have quite unexpectedly become addicted to one particular female. There’s not another who could possibly tempt me.”
Yeah, right.
She rolled her eyes. No man acquired Salvatore’s talent in bed by reading how-to books.
“Does that bullshit work on your harem?” she mocked.
He managed to look surprised. “I’ll let you know if I ever acquire one.”
“The King of Weres without a harem? I don’t believe it.”
“Being king isn’t just a figurehead position, Harley.” His shoulders lifted in a restless motion, as if in response to the heavy burdens he carried, his expression suddenly bleak. “The entire Were race is depending on me to save them from extinction. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for collecting women.”
Sashaying—yes, she actually sashayed—around the front of the car, the imp tossed her long mane of crimson hair, the scent of plums filling the air.
“Your Majesty?” She dipped her head in an oddly formal manner. “I am Tonya, sister to Troy.”
“Cristo.”
Tonya chuckled at Salvatore’s horror. “I take it that you remember my twin brother?”
“He’s difficult to forget.”
“It’s his gift.”
“Not the word I had in mind.” The golden eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “How did you recognize me?”
Tonya pointed a finger in Harley’s direction. “I recognized her. She’s the spitting image of her sister.”
Harley forgot her unreasonable dislike for the imp. “You know my sisters?”
“I worked in Chicago until last month, when I transferred to Viper’s club here.”
“Viper opened a club in this backwoods?” Salvatore glanced around the quiet farmlands. “It hardly seems a mecca for demons.”
“We have a specialty coffee shop that caters to humans, and a connected building for our more exotic clientele.” The imp sent Salvatore a smoldering smile. Bitch. “You offer the right scratch for someone’s itch and they’ll drive miles to find you.”
“And your job entails roaming the back roads for potential customers?” Harley snapped.
Tonya ran a deliberate hand down the curve of her hip, her eyes holding the knowledge that there wasn’t a woman alive who wasn’t jealous of her outrageous beauty.
“The only thing that would bring me to the back roads is a command from Santiago. Oh, and the promise of some lovely cha-ching, of course.” The imp actually purred at the mention of money. “There’s a cash reward for whoever finds you first.”
A perilous heat blasted through the air as Salvatore grabbed the imp’s arm.
“Who’s offering this reward?”
The imp had enough sense to step back in alarm. “The Anasso. He sent out a BOLO for the King of Weres and his mate’s sister after he received some sort of mental text from a gargoyle. Since it was still daylight, Santiago sent out his nonflammable servants to keep watch.”
Harley licked her lips, bombarded by a muddle of emotions. A growing confidence that her sisters were indeed alive. A relief that Levet had seemingly made it out of the tunnels. And a vague impulse to take off running and never look back.
Her life had always been predictable. Caine might move them from lair to lair, and the curs guarding her had changed throughout the years, but her days were pretty much the same no matter where they were.
Now…not so much.
Amazingly, being thrown into the middle of an adventure wasn’t quite the exciting buzz she’d always assumed it would be.
Salvatore waved a hand toward the waiting car. “Take us to Santiago.”
Tonya pouted. “What about my reward?”
A dangerous smile curved Salvatore’s lips. “I won’t leave you tied to a tree for the hungry pack of curs chasing us. Good enough?”
“Party pooper.” Turning on her heels, an impressive feat considering the rutted dirt road, she returned to the car. “Let’s go.”
Harley lifted her brows as Salvatore led her toward the car. “Charming as always.”
A smile filled with wicked promise shimmered in his eyes. “I need a good woman to teach me manners.”
“Don’t look at me.”
“Oh, I intend to do more than look.”
“Watch it, Salvatore, or I’ll kick your royal ass.”
He reached to pull open the door to the backseat, whispering in her ear as she bent to climb inside.
“Promises, promises.”
Heat swirled in the pit of her stomach, making her stumble and sprawl awkwardly across the leather seat.
Damned Were.
Straightening, she glared as Salvatore slid smoothly beside her, but his attention was on the imp as she turned a wide circle through the field before bouncing them back onto the road.
“Do you have any werewolves as customers?”
Tonya glanced in the rearview mirror. “Those of the furry persuasion tend to avoid vampire establishments. A pity.” Her voice lowered to a husky invitation. “They always make the best strippers.”
Salvatore slid a glance in Harley’s direction. “Stripping is not all we do well.”
“Amen,” Tonya breathed.
Harley could have added a few amens of her own, but instead she gritted her teeth. The imp and her femme fatale act was wearing on her nerves.
“Are you done?”
“Not nearly…” Salvatore began, only to grunt in surprise when she nailed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Ah, I’m done.”
“Good choice,” Harley muttered.
His smile widened. “At least for now.” He returned his attention to the imp. “We need food. Any drive-thru will do.”
“I can prepare you a meal at the club.”
“I prefer my dinner hex-free.”
Harley frowned in confusion. “I thought purebloods were immune to hexes. It was one of the numerous things Caine used to bitch about.”