With fluid, almost dizzying speed, Santiago was moving toward a far wall, pressing his fingers to the frame of one of the paintings. With a small swoosh the wall slid inward, revealing a hidden tunnel.
“Wait here,” the vamp commanded, disappearing into the dark.
“Where are you going?” Harley threw her hands in the air as the demon ignored her, continuing on to his bat cave and leaving her to twiddle her damn thumbs. “God. Men are so freaking annoying.”
She glared at the opening, but she wasn’t stupid enough to follow. Entering the private lair of a vampire was a death sentence. Pure and simple.
Instead she anxiously paced the floor, cursing the dampening spell that made it impossible for her to sense whether Salvatore had already left the building.
How had Briggs managed to find them? And how had he broken through the enchantment to contact Salvatore without alerting Santiago?
Still pacing the floor, her stomach clenched with a fear that sparked her temper.
She curled her hands to fists. Why did she even care what happened to the arrogant King of Weres? Just a week ago he’d been the boogeyman that Caine used to keep her prisoner. Okay, she didn’t think he was out to kill her anymore. And he most certainly was the kind of take-no-prisoner lover, one that any woman would have to be an idiot to kick out of bed.
But he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a means to getting to her sisters, right? Ships passing in the night…yadda yadda.
Dammit.
She was counting to one hundred and if Santiago wasn’t back, she was going to look for Salvatore without him.
She reached twenty when Santiago made a silent reappearance, his long hair tied into a braid, carrying a leather satchel.
A vampire ready for action.
“We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” She frowned at his abrupt command. “No frigging way.”
His long strides never broke as he crossed to grasp her arm and steer her toward the door.
“Styx and his Ravens are fifty miles north of town. We’re driving to meet him.”
She dug in her heels. Not just a figment of speech. She might be tiny, but she was all Were.
An irate female Were with combat training.
One of the most dangerous creatures in the world.
“We’re not going anywhere until we’ve stopped Briggs from slaughtering Salvatore,” she hissed.
Coming to a grudging halt, Santiago met her angry glare with an unyielding expression.
“My orders are to keep you safe.”
“I don’t give a crap what your orders are.”
“Harley, you are currently my guest, but if you insist on putting yourself in danger, then I’ll make you my prisoner.”
She didn’t miss the silken warning in his dark voice.
“It doesn’t matter to you that Salvatore is in danger?”
“Not in the least.”
Harley clenched her hands, knowing she couldn’t force the vampire to help Salvatore fight Briggs.
“If you don’t care about Salvatore’s safety, then why are you so determined to protect me?” she snapped.
“You’re mate-sister to my Anasso. He was very clear in his command to bring you to him without delay.”
Perfect.
The nightclub was overflowing with powerful demons and not a cursed one would lift a finger to help her without the say-so of this vamp.
“Mate-sister or not, he’s not my king. I’ll decide when I leave.” She stepped forward, her temper reaching a critical level. Something or someone was about to get broken. “Get out of my way.”
Santiago reached behind his back, pulling a gun from his waistband.
“I am sorry, Harley.”
“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, shoving him in the chest and making a wild dash toward the door.
He wouldn’t actually shoot her.
The thought flashed through her mind at the precise moment she felt a sharp pain in her butt, and the world went black.
Leaving the warehouse, Salvatore followed the sense of Briggs to the small park that had been built near the river. It was late enough to be empty of humans, and the few dew fairies who lingered preferred to dance in the tiny tendrils of fog that lay like a shroud on top of the water.
Prepared for a trap, Salvatore moved past the picnic tables set in concrete slabs and the neatly trimmed bushes, at last coming to a halt as a shimmer broke the air in front of the stone fountain.
He resisted the urge to sweep the area with his senses. For now he had to trust that Harley wasn’t going to do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
There was a change in air pressure, then with a pop, the familiar form of Briggs was visible in the darkness.
Salvatore gagged at the stench of rotting meat that filled the frigid air.
“You’re looking a little ragged, mio amico,” he muttered, his gaze skimming over the haggard face and the too-thin body bent beneath the heavy cloak. Even in projection form, the pureblood looked like hell. “And you smell even worse. How long has it been since you got laid?”
“A few of us have priorities that don’t involve whores,” the crimson eyes flashed. “Of course, once I’ve taken the throne, I’ll have plenty of time to screw your mate. How poetic if she’s the first female to birth my litter.”
Salvatore’s wolf crawled beneath his skin, a brutal fury pumping through his blood.
“You try to bed Harley and she’ll rip your black heart out,” he rasped.
“Before I’m done with her, she’ll be begging to be in my bed. And if not…” The hollow chuckle sent a chill of revulsion down Salvatore’s spine. “I don’t mind taking my women by force. A struggle always adds a nice spice to sex.”
Salvatore’s heat blasted through the park, his power a tangible force.
“Being one of the walking dead has obviously putrefied your brain. You will never sit on my throne, and you will never have Harley. The only thing in your future is a long overdue grave.”
“Such brave talk,” Briggs rasped.
“I’m not the one cowering behind illusions.”
“Be thankful you haven’t yet faced me in the flesh. You would be dead.” A sneer curled the pureblood’s mouth. “Just like the worthless king before you.”
Salvatore stiffened.
Dio. His suspicions had been right.
“You killed Mackenzie?”
“Are you just now figuring that out?” Briggs mocked. “God, how could fate ever have thought you worthy of being king?”