Caine stepped forward, reaching to trail his fingers over her shoulder. His touch was warm, experienced. She shook him off.
A woman would have to be dead not to find Caine attractive, but Harley needed more than simple lust. She needed…hell, she didn’t know what she needed, only that she hadn’t yet found it.
Besides, her skin was suddenly feeling hypersensitive. As if it had been rubbed raw by sandpaper.
“Would I ever put you in danger, sweet Harley?” Caine goaded.
“In a heartbeat, if it meant saving your own hide.”
“Harsh.”
“But true.”
“Perhaps.” His gaze dipped downward, studying her sports bra. “I need a shower. Why don’t you join me?”
“In your dreams.”
“Every night. Do you want to know what we’re doing?”
“I’d rather yank out your tongue and eat it for dinner.”
With a laugh, he snapped his teeth near her nose. “Naughty Were. You know how it makes me hard when you threaten violence.”
Spinning on her heel, Harley headed for the door. “You’d better make that a cold shower or you won’t have to worry about Salvatore Giuliani slicing off your balls. I’ll already have them dangling from my rear view mirror.”
She tuned out Caine’s low laugh as she headed toward the front of the house.
It was late and she was tired, but she ignored the carved wooden staircase that led to the bedrooms as she entered the paneled foyer.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She felt restless and on edge. As if there was a looming thunderstorm and she was about to be struck by lightning.
Telling herself it was nothing more than frustration with Caine and the mysterious games that were being played around her, she yanked open the door and stepped outside.
What she needed was a walk.
And if that didn’t work, then there was always cheesecake in the fridge.
There was nothing in the world that couldn’t be cured by cheesecake.
Chapter Two
Salvatore crouched in the bushes and studied the large home that was stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Like most colonial homes, it had a lot of bricks and fluted columns, with a double row of tall windows that would give a vampire nightmares. There was a large front terrace with a sweeping drive that was lined by oak trees, and a covered pool behind the four-car garage.
A nice crib for a mere cur, but Salvatore’s interest wasn’t in architecture.
Instead, he tested the late spring air, futilely attempting to ignore the pervasive scent of vanilla that seeped through his body like the finest aphrodisiac, and concentrated on the bastard who had dared to try to kidnap him.
He might have escaped, but he wasn’t the forgive-and-forget type.
“The cur’s inside,” he said.
“Holy cow.” Levet flapped his wings, standing on tiptoe to glance over the bush. “Do you pay all your curs like AIG executives or do the lunatic fringe receive special bonuses?”
Salvatore’s retort died on his lips as the door was suddenly pushed open and a female pureblood stepped into the night.
She was stunningly familiar. As one of quadruplets, she possessed her sisters’ pale blond hair and slender body. A body that was deliciously revealed by her stretchy shorts and tiny bit of spandex that passed as a top. He would also bet his Rolex her eyes were a perfect emerald.
But that’s where the similarity ended.
Both her sisters, Darcy and Regan, possessed the electric energy of all Weres. But this woman. Cristo, he could feel her vibrant power charging the air a half mile away.
His wolf stirred beneath his skin, straining to be closer to the female that called to him at his most primitive level.
“Salvatore?” Levet snapped his fingers in front of Salvatore’s eyes. “Helllooo. Anyone home?”
“Don’t bother me, gargoyle,” Salvatore growled.
“You promised you would find the cur’s lair and then we would wait for…” The three-foot pest sucked in a sharp breath as he at last caught sight of the woman strolling toward a marble fountain. “Oh. Darcy’s sister.”
“Si.”
“Salvatore, you are not going to do something stupid, are you?” Levet stomped his foot as Salvatore rose and stepped around the bush. “Mon Dieu. Why do I even ask? Of course you are going to do something stupid. And who do you suppose is the one who is going to get hurt? Moi. That is who.”
“Return to the bushes,” Salvatore snapped, his attention never wavering from the woman who had suddenly stiffened and turned in his direction.
“Do you never watch horror films, stupide?” Levet squeaked. “It is always the one who stays behind who Jason or Freddie or Michael Myers chops in half.”
Salvatore made a Herculean effort to ignore his companion as he slid forward. The female had sensed his presence and was preparing to bolt.
That was unacceptable.
And not just because he’d been searching for her for the past thirty years.
Hell, that was at the very bottom of the list.
Way below getting her naked and into the nearest bed.
She took a wary step back as Salvatore neared, and he forced himself to come to a halt, raising a hand in a gesture of peace.
“Wait.”
Her eyes narrowed (not emerald, but instead a stunning hazel with flecks of gold), and her expression hardened, but there was no fear. His fascination ratcheted up another notch.
There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew she could take care of herself.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her low, husky voice brushing over him like a physical caress.
“Salvatore Giuliani.”
Recognition flashed through her eyes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the good kind of recognition. Not like finding the perfect silk tie to match his new Armani suit. More like a woman who turned over a rock and didn’t like what crawled out.
“God,” she breathed. “Caine is an idiot.”
“What’s your name?”
“Harley.”
He stretched out his hand. “Come to me, Harley.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“And I should believe you, why?”
Salvatore frowned. She wasn’t acting like a Were who’d been kidnapped and held captive by a deranged cur.
“I’m here to rescue you.”
She shook her head, her hair shimmering with pale beauty even in the darkness.
“Hip-frigging-hooray for you. Who said I wanted to be rescued?”