Caught off guard, Harley glanced over her shoulder in confusion, her heart jerking at the stark beauty of his bronzed face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Trust me,” he said, his hand gripping her inner thigh at the same moment his erection nudged at her slit from behind.

“Yes.”

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her neck boneless with blistering pleasure as he surged inside her. He was large and angled to thrust deep, each driving plunge hovering between intense bliss and pain.

Leaning heavily against the wall to support her weak knees, Harley groaned as his fingers slid between her folds, stroking through her damp heat in pace with the fierce, relentless pump of his hips.

Somewhere in the dark, a pack of curs was searching for them, Briggs was plotting his evil, and the King of Vampires was rushing in their direction. But the dangers held no meaning for Harley as her body tightened with a near unbearable excitement.

With a growl that was more animal than human, Salvatore buried his face in the curve of her neck, his mouth nuzzling her sensitive skin.

“You’re mine,” he said, his low words seeming to brand themselves on her soul. “For now and all eternity.”

“No.”

“Yes, Harley.” He thrust deeper, possessing her with every stroke. “There’s no going back.”

“Dammit, Salvatore…”

Her words were cut short as Salvatore sank his teeth into the base of her neck. Shocked by the delectable attack, Harley’s body arched, and a scream was wrenched from her throat as the shattering climax clutched at her body…

Chapter Thirteen

Caine gripped the steering wheel of the Jeep, heading back to his St. Louis lair at a pace just short of light speed.

He was a good enough general to know he should be with his pack, leading them in pursuit of Salvatore and Harley.

The curs were spooked by Salvatore’s display of power over them. It was one thing to hear rumors of the king’s ability to force a werewolf to shift, and quite another to experience it firsthand.

And Vikki was certain to bolt at the first sign of trouble. She might be willing to use her magical abilities to impress him, but not if it meant bringing any danger to herself.

Without Caine driving them on, they’d quite likely dillydally long enough to make certain that Salvatore managed to escape.

At the moment, however, Caine was too distracted to launch an all-out offensive against the King of Weres.

He needed time to sort through the doubts that were beginning to plague him.

Predictably, what he needed and what he got were two very different things.

Skimming down the graveled back roads that wound through recently plowed fields, Caine slammed on the brakes as the familiar scent of rotting flesh assaulted him.

“Shit.”

Andre shoved his dark hair from his face, his nose wrinkled with disgust.

“What the hell is that?”

“Company,” Caine muttered, wishing he had the balls to ignore the unmistakable summons. Of course, if he ignored the summons there was a good chance he wouldn’t have any balls to worry about.

“Company?” Andre shuddered. “It smells like he needs to lay down so someone can finish burying him.”

Caine shoved the stick shift into park. “Stay here.”

“No. You…”

Caine’s hand shot out to grab his companion by the throat. “Stay. Here.”

“Got it,” the cur rasped. “Stay here.”

Ignoring the bile that rose in his throat, Caine headed for the small cluster of trees. This was what he’d signed up for, wasn’t it? A little tit for a little tat.

He just wanted to get his damned tit so he could be done with the nasty tat.

There was an odd shimmer among the shadows, then the outline of Briggs appeared, his crimson eyes glowing like the pits of hell. Obediently, Caine fell to his knees.

“Master.”

A blast of cold swirled through the air, crawling over Caine’s skin.

“Scurrying back to your lair like the spineless coward you are, eh, Caine?”

“I have my pack searching for Salvatore. It’s only a matter of time before they capture him.” The lies tripped easily off Caine’s tongue, his head lowered to hide his wary expression. “I need to make sure I have a cell prepared that can hold him.”

“There’s no need. Our plans have changed.”

Caine stiffened. A change in plan usually meant the first plan had gone to hell. Not what he wanted to hear.

“What do you mean?”

“Congratulations, cur,” Briggs hissed. “Your day of glory is at hand. Soon you will be transformed, as you always dreamed.”

Caine slowly lifted his head, suspicious. Briggs had always been far too vague on how this transformation was supposed to take place.

“How? Harley has escaped.”

“Forget the bitch.”

“But…”

The crimson eyes flared with lethal anger. “I must have Salvatore.”

Caine swallowed his demand to know the hows, whens, and wheres of the mystical transformation that had been promised to him for years.

His personal vision had revealed his blood running over barren stone, shimmering with the power only true Weres possessed, but interpreting such a vision was always difficult.

“My pack is on his trail.”

“Salvatore will destroy your pathetic excuse for a pack without breaking a sweat.”

Caine ground his teeth. “I’m aware of Salvatore’s superior strength.”

“Then you will pull back your servants and allow me to deal with the bastard.”

“Deal with him, or kill him?”

“Oh, I’ll kill him in due time.” The Were’s voice was thick with anticipation. “First, I have need of him alive.”

The memory of the violent battlefield he’d left behind spoiled Caine’s pleasure at savoring Salvatore’s impending downfall. Briggs might boast about his plans for the King of Weres, but Caine was no longer willing to believe that Briggs was invincible.

“You intend to capture him?”

“Yes.”

“By yourself?”

An icy power slammed into Caine’s chest, stopping his heart.

“Surely you don’t doubt my ability to do so?”

Caine’s hands dug into the dirt, the pain radiating from his chest through his body in sharp bursts.

“I would never be so foolish,” he groaned.

“I wonder.” The repulsive smell nearly choked Caine as Briggs moved closer. “Could it be that your loyalty is wavering, Caine?”

Caine pressed his head to the ground. Damn. He’d gone too far. Briggs wouldn’t tolerate having his superiority over Salvatore questioned. Certainly not by a mere cur.

Time for damage control.

“No, master, but Salvatore has often joined powers with the vampires. He will be next to impossible to capture if he is protected by the bloodsuckers.”

Briggs snorted, not so easily deceived. “Then it’s fortunate I have no need to capture Salvatore.”

“You believe he’ll turn himself over to you?”

“That’s exactly what I believe.”

“I’m going to admit that would be my last guess.” Caine was careful to speak into the mud. Briggs was still too close for his peace of mind. “Salvatore might be arrogant, but he isn’t suicidal.”

“No, but he’s desperate to kill me. Once I offer him the opportunity, he’ll be more than eager to join me.”

“He’ll sense it’s a trap.”

Briggs laughed. A hollow, sinister sound that made the distant coyotes howl in alarm.

Gallows humor. Had to love it.

“And yet, he’ll still come. Salvatore is nothing if not predictable.”

Warily, Caine lifted his head, meeting the crimson gaze. “I assume I have some role in all of this?”

“There are a pack of curs camped near your lair, believing you still hold Salvatore.”

Caine shrugged. He’d received a call from his pack the minute the curs had surrounded his house.

“They’re being watched.”

“I want you to bring them to me here.”

As the words left Briggs’s lips, an image of barren caves below an abandoned Victorian church seared through Caine’s mind. Not just figuratively seared, but actually and painfully seared. Like a map had been branded into his brain tissue.

Holy hell. Hadn’t the bastard heard of GPS?

“Why?”

“Because I want Salvatore to suffer before he dies,” Briggs said, his hatred for the King of Weres pulsing in the air. “There are few things that give me more pleasure than the thought of watching Salvatore’s anguish as he’s forced to kill one of his loyal servants.”

Caine hid his shudder. He’d always considered himself a badass who ruled his pack with an iron fist, but Briggs made him seem like a freaking pansy in comparison.

“Yeah, I can just imagine.”

“Ah, but you won’t have to imagine,” Briggs taunted. “You’ll be at my side.”