“Your Majesty.”
Harley reached out and hastily urged him back to his feet, disturbed by the cur’s groveling. Respect was all fine and dandy, but she was never going to get used to very large predators bowing and scraping.
“Please don’t do that,” she muttered. “My name is Harley.”
He grudgingly nodded his head, not pleased by her refusal to follow tradition. A cur of the old school, obviously.
Bleck.
“If that is your wish.”
She frowned at the sight of violent bruises and raw burns that marred his bare chest.
“Are you hurt?”
“Nothing that won’t heal.”
His dull, lifeless tone warned Harley that the worst of his wounds weren’t physical.
He needed Salvatore.
Hell, they all needed Salvatore. Herself included.
“Tell me what happened,” she demanded. “How did Briggs get you to the shed?”
“I was leading the others from the caves as you commanded when Briggs found us.”
“Predictable. He has a talent for always being at the wrong place.”
“He…” Hess licked his lips, his expression haunted. “He said he needed to make sure Salvatore would follow him.”
Well, at least now she knew why the curs had been left in the shed. They had been expendable once Salvatore arrived.
“You were bait.”
“Yes.” His glance briefly shifted to the other curs still huddled together on the pew. “We couldn’t fight him. He gets in our brain and makes us do things.”
She reached out to touch him, surprised to discover she could sense the mass of anger and confusion that tormented the cur.
“No one blames you, Hess,” she said softly. “There was nothing you could do.”
“I blame me,” he growled, his hands clenching. “I have failed my master over and over. I’m not worthy to be his servant.”
Harley frowned, her sympathy being replaced with frustration. Okay, Hess and the other curs had been through hell. She got it. But right now Salvatore needed them to be strong.
And that’s what they were going to be.
Without giving herself time to think, she reached up and slapped the cur with enough force to snap back his head.
“Stop that.”
Hess growled deep in his throat, the dull shame in his eyes being replaced by a spark of anger.
Thank God.
“It’s the truth.”
“Whether it’s the truth or not, Salvatore needs his warriors, not a bunch of self-pitying whiners,” she snapped.
He flinched at her brutal accusation, a meaty hand lifting to rub over his bald head.
“You said Salvatore had ordered us to leave.”
“He did.”
“Then obviously he understands that we are useless.”
“He’s concerned about Briggs taking control of you.”
“Because we were weak.”
“For God’s sake. That’s enough.” She stepped until they were a mere inch apart. The cur might be twice her height and three times her weight, but she was a pureblood and her strength would always be superior. “Salvatore needs us.”
“What can we do?” Hess demanded. “If we get close to Briggs, he will just use us against Salvatore.”
Hardly a newsflash. She’d already realized the danger of allowing the curs near the cabin. Which was the only reason they weren’t charging to the rescue. But she wasn’t prepared to sit around doing nothing.
“We don’t have to be near. Salvatore’s the king. Can’t he use you as a boost to his powers?”
“Yes. But…”
Harley’s heart faltered at the sudden scowl that marred Hess’s face.
“But what?”
“I don’t feel him.”
“You mean he’s not calling on your powers, or you can’t feel him at all?”
His hand shifted to press against his chest. “I can’t feel him at all. There’s something blocking our bond.”
“Magic?”
“It has to be.”
Damn Briggs. He obviously still had enough black magic to interfere in Salvatore’s connection to his pack.
“Why do I still sense him?”
Hess shrugged. “It must be the mating bond.”
“A fat lot of good that’s going to do,” she muttered, then her eyes widened. “Wait. Can Salvatore use it to gain strength?”
“Only from you.”
“Shit.” Harley returned to pacing, the ball of fear in the pit of her stomach becoming unbearable. “This is bad.”
“Really bad,” Hess agreed, his voice grim.
“There has to be something.” Her steps slowed as she was struck by a sudden realization. “Wait. I’m the queen.”
Hess regarded her warily, as if wondering if she was laying some sort of trap.
“Yes.”
“Then I should be able to do the whole…” She waved her hands. “Sucking power thing, shouldn’t I?”
He stiffened, his obsession with formality offended by her casual manner.
“You shouldn’t make fun of our bond with Salvatore,” he rasped, his unwavering loyalty to the King of Weres shining in his eyes. “It’s an ancient tradition.”
She bit back the urge to tell the cur that the feudal days were long gone and the serfs had been freed.
She was slowly beginning to accept that the rituals and customs that were so important among the werewolves weren’t just an antiquated means of keeping the curs enslaved, as Caine had always claimed. They were a tangible expression of the intimate bonds that held a pack together.
“You’re right, but can we worry about political correctness later, Hess?” She reached to lay her hand on his stiff arm. “I need to know if I can be a…” She searched for the proper word. “A conduit to share your powers with Salvatore.”
Hess gave a helpless lift of his hands. “I don’t know.”
She made a sound of impatience, her fingers digging into his arm.
“Then help me try,” she charged. “I don’t even know where to begin. How does Salvatore do it?”
“He just…” Hess halted, clearly at a loss. “Does it.”
Does it?
Well, that helped a butt-load.
Biting her bottom lip, Harley tried to ignore the gnawing sense that Salvatore was in danger. Instead, she concentrated on the vague tingle of distress that she was certain was coming from Hess.
She didn’t know how she could feel it, but she did know that she hadn’t noticed it until she had actually touched the cur.