Beyond the Darkness (12 page)

“Harley?”

“If there’s even a possibility you might be right, then shouldn’t you be returning to Italy?”

He was caught off guard by her abrupt words. “Trying to get rid of me,
cara
?”

“You don’t have to be Ken Jennings to figure out that if the bad guy wants you here, you should be there.”

Was she concerned for his safety?

Dio,
the sky was surely about to fall.

Salvatore prowled forward, his blood heating as she instinctively backed away. He maneuvered her until her ass was pressed against the edge of the desk, caging her legs between his thighs.

“We’ll eventually return to my lair in Rome,” he promised her, satisfaction gripping his heart at the thought of Harley in his classically elegant home. She would add a golden warmth that was badly needed amongst the acres of marble and gilt. “But not until I’ve dealt with Briggs and whatever demon is pulling his strings.”

Her hands landed against his chest. “Very macho.”

He claimed her lips in a kiss of sheer possession. “I can be a lot more macho, if only you’d let me,” he muttered.

“Stop that.” She arched back to stab him with a worried gaze. “I’m being serious. You’re the king—you should act like one.”

His gaze lowered to appreciate the tight stretch of her tank top. “I’m trying.”

“Salvatore.”

With a sigh, he lifted his gaze. “What kingly act do you want from me?”

“Tell me what would happen if Briggs manages to kill you and take the Were throne?”

His jaw clenched. “Not going to happen.”

“Unless you’ve been covering up a special ability to read the future, you can’t know that.” Her expression was stern, unflinching. “Is your pride worth risking the future of your people?”

Salvatore met her unwavering gaze. He was a dominant. An alpha who didn’t accept having his decisions questioned.

He’d taught more than one Were that painful lesson.

But oddly, he didn’t feel the familiar urge to snarl. Harley wasn’t his subordinate. The wolf in him had accepted her as a mate. She was his partner, not one of his pack.

“Harley, Briggs is too dangerous to ignore.” His hands stroked up her bare arms to grasp her shoulders. “I can’t return to Italy until he’s destroyed.”

“You don’t have royal ass-kickers to take care of your killing for you?”

“Any number, but none who would be immune to Briggs’s ability to control their minds.”

She couldn’t dismiss his logic, but that didn’t stop her from finding a new argument.

Women were women, regardless of their species.

“Supposing you do manage to kill him…”

“Such faith.”

“How do you intend to keep him dead?”

Salvatore didn’t have an answer.

And at the moment, he had far more important matters on his mind.

Framing her face in his hands, he lowered his head to brush searing kisses over her cheek.

“A worry for tomorrow.”

Harley forgot how to breathe as Salvatore found her lips in a slow, drugging kiss.

No big surprise.

His touch was magic.

With a soft groan, his tongue teased her lips wider, his fingers stroking down her throat. It was Harley’s turn to groan. He tasted of whiskey and wolf and wild power. A combination that ignited something untamed deep inside her soul.

A compelling, ruthless heat flowed through her blood, making her hands slip beneath the edge of his open shirt to find the satin steel of his chest.

Okay, she might be responsible for her hands doing the full-body search, but he was certainly responsible for shutting down her higher brain functions. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would have shoved him across the room, not discovered the intimate terrain of his upper body.

His hands shifted to cup her aching breasts, his thumbs circling the rigid thrust of her nipples until she was squirming against him.

“Harley…”

His husky words were cut short as Salvatore abruptly lifted his head and glanced toward the door. Harley felt a prickle of energy and the heavy bolt slid shut just as she caught Santiago’s approaching scent.

“Go away,” Salvatore barked, his muscles coiled and prepared for action.

There was a soft chuckle as Santiago halted near the door, but the vamp was smart enough not to try and enter the room.

Thank God.

“The entertainment is about to begin,” he said, his voice deliciously cool and filled with invitation. “I’m certain Harley would enjoy our modest show.”

A golden glow illuminated Salvatore’s eyes, his rich, musky scent filling the room.

“Santiago, ‘go away’ is a fairly simple command to understand. Of course, I could come out there and explain it to you.”

“I prefer you send Harley out.”

“A leech with a death wish,” Salvatore growled. “My favorite kind.”

Harley heaved the universal sigh of a woman dealing with two stupid men.

“Is this really necessary?”

Salvatore flashed a wickedly infectious grin. “No, but it’s always fun.”

“Harley, if you are able to slip from your furry leash, feel free to join me. Drinks…” Santiago deliberately paused. “And whatever else you might desire, are on the house.”

“I’ll keep your offer in mind, Santiago,” Harley said, her gaze warning Salvatore to keep his mouth shut. She wasn’t in the mood for a pissing match. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Salvatore’s tension eased as Santiago’s scent faded. “I hate vamps. Now…” His fingers lightly traced the line of her tank top, the heat of his fingers singeing her skin with pleasure. “Where were we?”

One step away from complete insanity, Harley abruptly realized.

Shoving her hands against his chest, Harley edged enough space to slip away from the desk and Salvatore’s oh-my-God touch.

“So what’s the entertainment that he’s talking about?”

Salvatore squeezed his eyes shut, as if in great pain. Then, sucking in a deep breath, he turned to lean against the desk, his arms folded over his chest.

“Have you ever been to a demon nightclub?”

She snorted at the ridiculous question. “Are you kidding? Caine never let me go anywhere I might be seen by a Were. He told me it was for my safety. Jackass.”

“Then I would suggest that your introduction to demon society wait.” His brooding gaze slid down her body, not bothering to hide his hunger. “Viper’s establishments are always over the top.”

“Let me guess—you have your own entertainment in mind.”

“Now that you mention it…”

The golden eyes flared and the power of his desire smacked into her, nearly sending her to her knees. Holy crap. Her stomach clenched as the vivid image of Salvatore bending her over the desk and roughly taking her from behind seared through her mind.

She rushed toward the door. “I want a drink.”

“Do I get a veto?” Salvatore muttered, then as Harley threw the bolt and yanked open the door, he hurried to her side, taking her arm in a possessive grip. “Damn. Wait for me.”

She shivered as he led her across the lobby, his mesmerizing, musky scent seeping into her skin as if attempting to brand her.

“There’s no need for you to go.”

“Trust me, there’s every need,” he said in dark tones, his brows lifting as she unconsciously rubbed her prickling arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you put on cologne?”

An oddly rueful smile curved his lips. “Dolce & Gabbana. Do you like it?”

“It’s…memorable.”

“More like eternal.”

She frowned. “What?”

“This way.” He ignored her question and pointed toward a set of double doors guarded by a matching set of vampires.

And what vampires they were.

Yow.

Chiseled perfection with the polished golden skin of ancient Egyptians, they had ebony hair that hung down their backs in long braids. Their faces were sculpted masterpieces of high cheekbones, hawkish noses, and noble brows. As she neared, she realized that they had a heavy band of kohl tattooed into their skin to emphasize their almond black eyes, and a hint of color on their full lips.

As if their stunning beauty needed any artificial assistance.

They were mouthwatering enough in their teeny tiny loincloths that revealed the sort of bodies that must have made Cleopatra howl in appreciation.

As they neared, the two silently pulled open the heavy doors, their gazes lingering on Harley with silent invitations of sultry pleasure.

Salvatore swept her past the demons as if they were invisible, his profile hard as they started down the wide stone steps that led deep beneath the building.

“You’re sure about this?” he demanded, his hand tightening on her arm as the air thickened with the scent and sounds of the gathered crowd.

“I’ve lived with a pack of curs for thirty years. There’s nothing that can shock me.” Her unfounded bravado lasted until they reached the bottom of the steps and Salvatore shoved open yet another door, this one of steel, and the full force of the gathered demons hit her. “Okay. I might have spoken a little hastily.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Harley barely heard his question, her attention focused on the scene spread below her.

In contrast to the airy elegance above, the vast room was circular and made of black marble that terraced downward. On each tier were a series of steel tables and stools that were bolted to the marble, and a series of staircases that led to the huge metal cage set in the lowest level of the chamber.

Overhead, heavy chandeliers spilled pools of light on the crowd of guests, battling back the shadows that twined along the edges, hiding those guests who preferred to remain concealed.

It looked more like Thunderdome than a nightclub.

Salvatore bent to speak directly in her ear, the clamor of the crowd nearly deafening.

“Do you want to leave?”

Her mouth was dry as her gaze skimmed over the demons of varying species. The only thing they had in common was the tangible sense of violence that crackled around them.

She briefly hesitated, torn between good old-fashioned common sense, and the desire to flirt with danger.

She’d always wanted to discover the world outside Caine’s lair, hadn’t she? Well, here it was. In all its glory.

Or rather, its lack of glory.

“Not on your life,” she said, tilting her chin with a display of courage she was far from feeling.

“It just might be,” Salvatore muttered, glaring at two hulking trolls who were eyeing Harley as if she were a tasty appetizer.

With a lift of his slender hand, a beautiful female imp with pale red hair and ivory curves on full display in a tiny spandex dress rushed to do his bidding. And if her smile was anything to go by, she was hoping his bidding included taking off that scrap of spandex.

Harley gritted her teeth, but Salvatore seemed oblivious to the woman’s blatant invitation.

“A booth,” he commanded. “As far from the arena as possible.”

“Of course.” With a venomous glance toward Harley, the imp wound her way past the tables on the top tier, leading them to a shadowed alcove that held a small booth. Harley slid onto a steel bench seat and Salvatore settled opposite her, his gaze sweeping the crowd rather than focusing on the imp who had practically thrust her breasts beneath his nose. “A drink, lover?”

Harley cleared her throat. “A Bloody Mary,” she ordered, her tone warning that her drink wasn’t going to be the only bloody thing if the bitch didn’t back off.

As if sensing the sudden tension in the air, Salvatore studied her flushed face with a smug smile.

“Hennessy,” he absently ordered.

With a flounce, the imp turned and stormed through the crowed, presumably headed to the bar for their drinks. Avidly aware of Salvatore’s unwavering gaze, Harley settled back in her seat.

“Isn’t Hennessy a little snobbish for a joint like this?”

He reached to stroke his finger over the back of her hand that was lying on the table.

“What can I say? I’m a Were of discerning taste.”

Her clever comeback died on her lips as spotlights abruptly flared across the ceiling and the milling crowd erupted into noisy cheers.

Glancing upward, Harley watched as four small golden cages were lowered from the hidden traps in the ceiling. They halted several feet over the large cage on the floor, dangling in the spotlights.

“Holy crap,” she breathed, allowing her gaze to shift from one cage to another. “Are those imps?”

Salvatore grimaced. “They’re part of the show.”

That wasn’t reassuring considering the four imps, two male and two female, were completely naked except for the heavy steel collars around their necks.

“Just what is this show?”

“The demon version of
The Dating Game.
”

Harley shook her head. She was addicted to the Game Show Network, and she hadn’t seen any show with naked imps hanging in cages.

“Somehow I don’t think the human version is even in the same universe. I assume there are a few rules?”

“Rudimentary ones. You pay an exorbitant amount of money for the privilege of joining a dozen other demons in the pit.” He pointed toward the huge cage on the floor that could accommodate an indoor soccer league. “The last demon standing is rewarded with a key.”

“Key?”

His hand lifted toward the cages, each with a large lock that held the doors shut.

“Once the winner makes his or her choice, the next batch is herded into the pit for their chance at a key.”

Outrage flowed through Harley like molten lava. For all of Caine’s faults, he’d always made certain that the males in his pack understood the penalty of rape.

Death.

Slow, tortuous, painful death.

“Those are sex slaves?”

“No.” Salvatore squeezed her fingers, anxious to keep her from doing something stupid. “I’ll admit that I wouldn’t shed a tear if someone managed to plant a stake in Viper’s unbeating heart, but he would never allow slaves in his club.”

“How do you know?”

He leaned close and spoke low enough that not even the most talented demon could overhear him.

“Viper was held as a slave for centuries. He would slaughter anyone involved in the trade.”

His reassurances were backed up by the sight of the imps, who happily leaned against the bars of their cages to provoke the crowd below into a near frenzy.

“And you?” she asked.

He chuckled as he lifted her hand to his lips, his tongue tracing the line of her knuckles.

“I don’t need such crude methods. My charm is enough to enslave others.”

She might debate his charm, but his touch was enough to make a woman beg for more.

“And you call Caine delusional,” she said, her words sounding lame as heat curled through the pit of her stomach.

Thankfully the imp chose that moment to return with their drinks, her barely covered boobs distracting Salvatore enough for Harley to jerk her hand free.

Not that it did a damned bit of good.

The excitement bubbled through her blood like the finest champagne, her skin crawling with a prickling awareness. She shifted uneasily in her seat, suddenly damp and aching.

What the hell?

Waving away the persistent imp, Salvatore shot Harley a knowing smile, easily sensing her stirring hunger.

“You should at least enjoy the warm-up act.”

Before she could ask, she caught sight of the naked men covered in nothing more than elaborate tattoos styled into Chinese symbols. They appeared to be human males—except no human was so perfectly ripped no matter how often they worked out, and their skin didn’t glow with an oddly metallic shimmer—as they weaved a sensuous path through the tables.

“Frigging hell.” Harley drained her Bloody Mary as one of the demons halted in front of their table, performing an erotic dance that had to be illegal in some states. Unable to tear her gaze from the alien beauty of the aquiline features and black, slanted eyes, she struggled to breathe. “What are they?”

“Nozama demons,” Salvatore said. “In their culture, the women are the warriors while the males are judged on their sexual prowess.”

“Now that is a fine culture,” she approved in husky tones, clutching the edge of the table to keep her hands from straying where they didn’t belong.

Salvatore growled low in his throat, sending the demon scurrying to the next table.

“Female warriors are respected in Were society, and our sexual prowess is renown throughout the demon world,” he informed her, reaching to take her hand in a possessive grip.

“Almost as renowned as your arrogance.”

“
Our
arrogance,” he corrected, leaning far enough across the table that his warm breath brushed her cheek. “You’re a pureblood, Harley. It is past time you returned to your pack.”

A sharp ache tugged at her heart. An unpleasant reminder of the loneliness that had plagued her all her life.

As a Were, she instinctively craved the connection to a pack. Not only for protection, but for the companionship that was as important to purebloods as food and sex.

There had always been a very large part of herself missing.

Still, she wasn’t prepared to make commitments to anyone. Not Salvatore. Not her sisters.