“I know you’re here,” he growled, checking the nooks and crannies that were shrouded in heavy darkness. The chill was thick enough to give him frostbite. “Briggs? I can smell your cowardice.”
Briggs’s laugh echoed through the cavern. “Always so full of yourself, Salvatore.”
“Then come out of the shadows and let’s put an end to this.” The words had barely left Salvatore’s lips when there was the sound of shuffling feet and Hess made an appearance from behind a stalagmite—or was it stalactite?—whatever. The important thing was the rigid expression on his servant’s face, and the blank emptiness in his eyes as he charged directly toward Salvatore. “Shit.”
“Don’t blame me if you don’t like the game,” Briggs countered in sly tones, taking obvious enjoyment in watching Salvatore scramble to avoid Hess’s attack.
Muttering beneath his breath, Salvatore crouched and watched as Hess abruptly shifted into his wolf form.
Cristo. This was exactly what he hoped to avoid. His soldier was completely under the thrall of Briggs, helpless to do anything but what the damned bastard commanded.
With a fluid movement, he jerked free the knife he’d tucked into his ankle holster before heading for these caves. It was silver, but it would do less damage than the silver bullets he’d loaded in his handgun.
Or at least that was the plan.
Balanced on the balls of his feet, Salvatore was prepared when Hess jumped forward, his massive jaws snapping at his head. Jerking back to avoid the fangs that could easily rip out his throat, Salvatore brought the knife upward, slicing a thin wound through the cur’s upper chest.
He wanted to stop Hess with as little damage as possible.
Of course, what he wanted and what he got was rarely the same.
With the scratch of claws on stone, Hess scrambled to turn and squatted down as he prepared to pounce. The acrid scent of burned flesh filled the air, but Salvatore only had to glance at Hess with his eyes flashing crimson and his lips curled back in a snarl to know it was going to take more than a scratch to end this battle.
He clenched his teeth and prepared for another assault. He didn’t have to wait long.
Familiar enough with his finest soldier’s tactics, Salvatore was prepared when he feinted a strike high and then darted low to attempt to circle round and hamstring him. He swiftly turned and slashed with the knife, catching Hess on the muzzle.
The cur whined as the silver bit deep into his flesh, the blood flowing, his flesh burned by the silver. Shaking his head in a pained motion, Hess appeared briefly defeated, then with a sudden leap he hit Salvatore directly in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
Salvatore managed to yank his head to the side, avoiding the snapping teeth, but it left him vulnerable and he howled in pain as Hess sank his fangs into his shoulder. The cur tore a chunk of flesh from him before Salvatore managed to get a grip on the cur’s thick coat, and with a savage thrust tossed him against the wall.
There was a nasty crunch as Hess hit his head against the unrelenting stone, falling boneless to the ground.
“Ah. What a beautiful sight,” Briggs hissed as Salvatore lay flat on his back, the wound in his shoulder deep enough to take an effort to heal. “The mighty King of Weres wallowing in the dirt. Exactly where he belongs.”
“Screw you,” Salvatore muttered, swallowing his whimper of pain as he forced himself to his feet.
Instinctively his gaze went to the cur lying broken and bleeding on the hard stone. Hess. He lived, but he was seriously injured. Just another motivation to hunt down Briggs and make him pay for ever crawling out of his revolting grave.
Moving across the cavern, Salvatore hissed in frustration. His head ached from where it had bounced off the ground and his shoulder continued to leak blood as the flesh struggled to knit back together. The uncompleted mating bond was making it difficult to repair his injuries, but he wasn’t going to wait.
Briggs had to be close.
He couldn’t have held Hess in thrall unless he was.
Which meant that this time, he wasn’t going to escape.
Trusting his instincts, he clutched the knife tight in his hand and circled the edge of the cavern.
“There’s no one left to hide behind,” he taunted, using the increasing cold to lead him toward a connected cave.
“I don’t fear you.”
“You always were an idiot,” Salvatore muttered, his skin prickling as a foul clamminess washed over him. God Almighty. Briggs was just…wrong. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He abruptly halted, the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh breaking through the spell that had been muting it. “Bingo.”
There was a cold rush of air and instinctively Salvatore ducked, growling as the sword whistled less than an inch above his head.
He’d been expecting magic, not mundane weapons.
And nearly got his head chopped off.
With a furious howl, Salvatore shifted.
Heat and magic poured through his body, altering and changing him from the inside out. His bones popped, his muscles thickened, and his skin shivered as his heavy pelt flowed over his body. A combination of pain and bliss exploded through him at the transformation.
It was a sensation that Weres craved like a drug.
The prickles in the air warned that Briggs was shifting as well, and Salvatore was prepared when the pureblood charged, knocking him to the ground. Turning his head, he sank his fangs into the wolf’s front leg and was rewarded by a shrill yip.
His satisfaction vanished as the Were’s blood, tainted with decay, spilled into his mouth. Dio. He tasted as bad as he smelled.
And that was saying something.
Releasing his grip, Salvatore gained his feet in time to dodge the teeth snapping at his throat. He growled, the days of frustrated fury searing through him as he coiled his muscles and attacked.
The cold that shrouded Briggs bit into Salvatore like tiny ice daggers, but he ignored the stinging pain, far more concerned with the savage swipe of the Were’s massive claws and the fangs that were desperate to rip out his throat.
He was beyond battle tactics and campaign strategies.
This was going to be raw power against whatever vile magic Briggs could conjure.
Salvatore barreled straight into his opponent, sending them both rolling over the hard ground. He accidently hit the lump already forming on the back of his skull, and stabbed a sharp rock into his hind leg as they skidded across the empty cave, but his teeth managed to slice a deep gash in Briggs’s chest before the Were blasted Salvatore with an invisible flare of magic.