Beyond the Darkness (7 page)

He winched at the sugary sweetness that dripped from her voice.

“Briggs isn’t your battle to fight.”

“You can do anything you want to Briggs, but I can keep myself safe, thank you very much,” she snapped. “You aren’t my mother.”

Salvatore was at least smart enough not to press the issue. She would be going to Chicago with Styx. End of story. But there was no need to argue before he could manage to contact the vampire.

“Be thankful I’m not your mother,” he instead distracted her. “Sophia wouldn’t have been pleased at being locked in a cell. There’s no telling what carnage she would have caused.”

Harley stumbled, her breath suddenly ragged. “She’s…alive?”

Something dangerous, almost tender, stirred in the depths of Salvatore’s heart.

“She’s very much alive,” he said gently. “She’s been searching for you and your sisters, just as I have.”

“So she’s near?”

“The last I heard she was in Kansas City.”

Harley abruptly shook her head, obviously disturbed by the realization.

“God.”

Salvatore kept his gaze trained on the tunnel that was slowly heading upward, sensing his companion would be horrified if she knew the vulnerability etched on her beautiful face.

“Harley.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you imagining Sophia as some kind of June Cleaver,” he cautioned, not wanting her to think a reunion with Sophia was going to be some fantasy lovefest.

The tough female Were didn’t have a motherly bone in her body.

“Who?”

He sighed at her confusion. He forgot she was only thirty years old.

“Let’s just say she isn’t the maternal type.”

“What about my father?”

“One of several donors.”

“Donors?”

“Sperm donors.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Of course. I was brewed in your lab,” she muttered. Then without warning, she yanked her hand from his grip. “Holy shit.”

Salvatore turned his head to meet her horrified gaze. “What?”

“You weren’t one of the donors, were you?”

His sudden laughter echoed through the darkness. “No,
cara,
I don’t have a God complex.”

“Yeah, right.”

His gaze skimmed deliberately down her slender form, allowing his searing awareness to heat the air around them.

“I didn’t create you to be my daughter, Harley. I created you to be my queen.”

Harley was thankful that Salvatore’s outrageous claim managed to distract her from the knee-weakening relief that there was no possibility he might be her father.

Talk about ick factor.

“Queen?” she asked. Okay, it was more a squeak, much to her embarrassment.

Salvatore flashed a smile. “It’s your fate.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Ignoring your destiny won’t alter it.”

She should have punched the annoying bastard. She didn’t believe in destiny. And even if she did, she would make damned sure that it didn’t include becoming a part of this Were’s harem.

Queen or no queen.

But oddly, it wasn’t fury that raced through her. It was…excitement.

“Just shut up,” she hissed.

She ignored his speculative gaze as the tunnel split in two, and they halted to study the less than appetizing options.

So far beneath the ground it was nearly impossible to determine which direction they were headed. Especially for Weres, who depended heavily on their sense of smell.

Salvatore hesitated a long moment, clearly no more confident than she was in knowing the best means of escape. Then, with a shrug, he took off down the left passageway.

“This way.”

With little choice, Harley followed in his wake. As soon as they were safely away from Caine, she would decide when and where to ditch the arrogant King of Weres.

For now, she was willing to allow him to keep her from being put back in that damned cell.

“If you get us lost down here, I’m not going to be happy,” she warned.

“And that would be a change?”

Ridiculously, his sardonic tone made her smile. “Smart ass.”

Silence descended as they continued to wind their way through the twists and turns of the narrow passageway, Salvatore’s steps slowing the farther they traveled.

She frowned as she studied the broad width of his shoulders that seemed to droop with weariness, and the blood that stained the back of his once elegant jacket.

When had he been injured? And why weren’t the wounds healing?

If they were truly deep, then he only had to shift. Once he was in wolf form he could repair even a grievous injury.

Her brooding thoughts were interrupted as they were forced to bend beneath a particularly low section of the tunnel, the distinct sound of a click echoing through the thick, silent air.

“What was that?” she breathed, already knowing it couldn’t be good.

Whirling around, Salvatore grabbed her arm and thrust her ahead of him.

“Run.”

“What is it?” she demanded, taking off with as much speed as possible in the cramped tunnel.

“A trap,” Salvatore rasped.

On cue, there was the sound of grinding metal, then dust began to filter from the sides of the passageway. Expecting yet another ceiling to fall on her head, or the floor to open up and swallow her, Harley was unpleasantly surprised when silver darts began shooting from hidden slots in the walls.

“Shit.”

She crouched low and charged through the dark, hissing as one of the darts sliced through the back of her arm. Two more darts yanked through her ponytail, and one passed close enough to her ear that she heard it whistle.

She lost track of time, focused on dodging the barrage of silver that continued to shoot from the dirt walls.

Not a bad thing to focus on, considering the dart she barely avoided before it slammed into her temple.

It was not until the pelting projectiles had slowed to an occasional unpleasant surprise that Harley at last realized that Salvatore had fallen several steps behind, his beautiful face covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his head.

She stumbled to a halt, an odd alarm clenching her heart.

“Salvatore?”

He stabbed her with an annoyed glare, his eyes glowing with a golden light.

“Just keep running.”

A stray dart shot between them and Harley heaved a resigned sigh. She couldn’t just leave him. Not when he was obviously injured.

Why
she couldn’t was not something she intended to mull over.

“Crap.” Moving to his side, she draped one of his arms around her shoulders and grabbed him around the waist, taking as much weight as he would allow as they continued down the tunnel. “What’s wrong?”

“When Levet broke into the cell, it sent a shower of silver in my shoulder,” he grudgingly confessed. “It’s draining my strength.”

That would certainly explain his inability to shift, and his weakness. Still, she couldn’t shake off the sensation that he wasn’t being entirely honest.

“We have to find some place to rest,” she said, her own legs beginning to feel the strain as the tunnel dipped and curved, leading to seeming nowhere.

“No.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “This tunnel isn’t safe.”

She sighed, pretending she didn’t notice his musky male scent and the heat of his hard body that was sending tiny flutters through the pit of her stomach.

“Are you always so stubborn?”

He managed a crooked, knee-weakening smile. “I’m charmingly determined.”

Charmingly determined? He was frigging beautiful was what he was.

Even covered in filth, with his suit in tatters and his hair tangled, he was drop-dead, mind-numbingly beautiful.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she muttered, more annoyed by her potent awareness of this Were than his teasing.

“As long as it’s your ass…” His drawling words trailed away, his golden eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

She frowned, grudgingly coming to a halt. “I thought you wanted to keep moving?”

He reached out a slender hand to press it against the side of the tunnel.

“There’s a way out just behind this wall.”

Harley squashed the distraction of Salvatore’s presence and concentrated on the wall, feeling the echo just beyond the dirt.

“I feel it.” She opened her eyes. “Can we get through?”

Salvatore straightened, pulling away from her. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Before she could point out they were currently absent a pick and shovel, Salvatore whirled in a movement too fast for human sight and kicked his foot against the hard dirt. Harley winched as his foot punched a large hole through the wall, revealing there was indeed an opening on the other side.

Damn. He could knock off a man’s head with that kick.

Or the head of a mouthy female.

Dismissing the unpleasant possibility, Harley moved forward, tugging at the clumps of crumbling dirt to enlarge the hole. She had barely started when Salvatore was at her side, his breath rasping as he shoved at a particularly stubborn rock.

“You don’t have to be Superman,” she said tartly. “I can do this.”

His brief smile was strained. “The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find someplace safe to hide.”

Harley grimaced, feeling as if she had been dipped, dredged, and battered in grime.

“This someplace better have a shower.”

Salvatore grunted, managing to shove aside the rock. Then, without hesitation, he pressed himself through the narrow opening. Harley rolled her eyes as she hurried behind him. Clearly it didn’t occur to him to allow her to take lead, despite the fact he looked close to total collapse.

Typical.

He’d rather fall flat on his face than admit he needed a woman’s help.

She had always suspected that testosterone sucked any common sense from the male brain.

Entering the cramped chamber carved in the dirt, Harley paused to take in her surroundings. Not an overwhelming task. There was nothing more than a pile of stones in one corner, and across the room, an opening that revealed some roughly carved stairs.

She had, however, heard Caine speak of his various spiderweb of tunnels, and she knew there was more here than met the eye.

“The stairs,” Salvatore muttered, heading toward the opening.

“Hold on.”

His expression tightened with a weary impatience. “Harley.”

“Caine always keeps stashes hidden, in case of a hasty exit,” she said, moving to the loosely piled stones. Her kick held considerably less impact that Salvatore’s, but it was enough to send the rocks flying to reveal a pile of objects that had been hidden beneath them. “See?”

Moving to her side, Salvatore reached to pluck the two loaded handguns off the ground, surprisingly shoving one into her hand before tucking the other into his waistband at his lower back.

The large ivory-handled dagger disappeared into a holster beneath his tattered pant leg, but he appeared far more interested in the tiny silver medallions that were half-buried beneath the dirt.

Most people would dismiss them as pieces of junk. A stupid mistake.

“I recognize these,” he said, gathering the medallions in his hand, a smile of satisfaction curving his lips.

Harley shrugged. “Amulets.”

He tilted one of the amulets to display the odd symbol etched into the thin metal.

“Caine’s cur pack used these to hide from me while they were in Hannibal.”

Abruptly, Harley realized that Salvatore’s scent had disappeared. Completely and utterly.

“Holy shit.”

“Here.” He pressed an amulet into her hand. “Keep it on you.”

She absently tucked the amulet into her sports bra, unnerved that Caine had possessed such a powerful tool that he’d never bothered to share with her.

But why should she be surprised? Caine had never been subtle in his obsession to keep her from slipping away from his control.

This amulet would have offered her the opportunity to escape without fear.

“No wonder Caine keeps so many witches on his payroll,” she gritted, annoyed that she’d been so easily fooled.

“I thought he took them to his bed.”

“Fringe benefits.” She shrugged. “Or at least they seem to think so.”

The golden gaze studied her with an unwavering intensity. “But not you?”

“I’m not interested in being the flavor of the month.” She met his gaze squarely. “For any man.”

Without warning, he leaned forward to brush a possessive kiss across her lips.

“Good.”

Harley shot upright, frowning at the jolt of pleasure that raced through her.

“I don’t need your approval.”

Chuckling at her unmistakable blush, Salvatore grasped her hand and tugged her toward the stairs.

“Let’s go, sunshine.”

With Salvatore’s luck running from bad to extremely shitty, it was nothing less than a shock when the stairs led to a narrow exit that was well hidden and cur-free.

Not that he lingered long enough to appreciate his unexpected stroke of fortune.

Keeping a steady pace, Salvatore ignored the fact that St. Louis was less than an hour away, along with a strong Were pack that he could call on to protect him. Instead, he headed directly north, toward the far more distant Chicago and the damned leeches.

Harley’s expression was puzzled as they ran past the fields and dark farmhouses, but for once she kept her opinion of his leadership abilities to herself. Or perhaps she simply concluded that Caine was more likely to start his search on the roads leading south.

In either case, Salvatore was relieved not to have to fight with the female. In his current state, he wasn’t at all certain he could win.

Devoting the majority of his attention to making sure that nothing leaped at them from the cornfields and thick patches of trees, Salvatore wearily tripped over a fallen log that was hidden by the thick weeds.

“Enough,” Harley snapped, an odd anger in her voice as he smoothly regained his balance and turned to meet her glittering gaze. “We have to find someplace to rest.”

He regarded her in a thoughtful silence. Was she concerned for him?

“There’s a town just beyond the hill.”

“A town?” Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Caine could have spies anywhere, and we don’t exactly blend in.”

“Then we’ll be careful not to be seen.” Taking her hand, he pulled her through the field and up the gentle swell that overlooked the small town. “There.”

He could feel Harley’s tension increasing as they neared the outskirts of the sleeping town, reaching a near panicked level as they traveled through the handful of blocks that made up the business district. Salvatore kept a firm grip on her hand as he headed straight toward the L-shaped motel that promised cable TV and Internet access.

He was too close to the promise of a hot bath and clean sheets to risk having to spend the rest of the night chasing his high-strung companion.

Carefully testing the air, Salvatore rounded the back of the motel, halting at the door nearest the end of the building. There were only a few guests occupying the various rooms, and all of them were human.

“We can’t check into a motel like this,” Harley hissed, tugging her hand free to indicate his filthy, unkempt appearance. “They’ll call the police.”

Salvatore smiled, moving forward to turn the knob, easily breaking the lock and shoving open the door.

“I have my own check-in system.”

Not nearly as impressed by his ability to find them shelter as she should have been, Harley stepped through the door and flipped on the light. Following behind her, Salvatore grimaced.

Okay, maybe he couldn’t expect her to be excessively impressed.

Perhaps not even slightly.

The room was larger than those in newer hotels, with a bed on one side and a pair of chairs and small table set beneath the window on the other. But the cheap furnishings had long ago given up the battle against shabbiness, and the turquoise paint was peeling off the wall. And the carpet…

Salvatore shuddered.

He moved across the room to peer into the bathroom, prepared for the chipped shower and vanity in a nasty shade of salamander.

Moving to his side, Harley wrapped her arm around her waist, her expression tense.

“What if the manager rents out this room?”

“Highly doubtful at this hour, even if there was anyone desperate enough to stop here.” He slid a challenging glance in her direction. “Do you want a shower or not?”

“And what are you going to be doing?”

He smiled. “Making myself useful.”

“Forget it.”

“Take your shower,
cara,
” he murmured, stealing a swift kiss before pressing her into the bathroom. “I’m in no condition to scrub your back. At least not with the attention to detail that I prefer.”