Beyond the Darkness (8 page)

Her eyes narrowed, her expression defiant. “I’m locking the door.”

“I insist, and keep that gun where you can use it,” he murmured, pulling the door shut and waiting for her muttered curse and the lock to be slammed into place before turning to head out of the motel room and into the night.

A weary smile curved his lips as he moved silently through the shadows, heading toward the stores that had closed hours before.

He was on the run from a Were who should have died centuries ago, he had no idea what had happened to his servants, he had no money, no cell phone, and the silver digging into his shoulder felt like ragged shards of lava, but there was no mistaking the raw, primitive satisfaction that burned through his blood.

Finding Harley completed him.

It was that simple and yet, that insanely complex.

And it was nothing less than a miracle.

Halting at the back of a dress shop, Salvatore easily dealt with the cheap lock, using his powers to turn off the alarm system. Collecting a few plastic bags, he moved through the darkness to fill them with a change of clothing for Harley and himself, as well as a nightgown that Harley would no doubt insist upon wearing.

He hesitated a moment over the delicate lingerie, ruefully choosing a sports bra and matching undies rather than the silky thongs. Harley would choke him in his sleep with the thong if he brought it back to the motel.

Perhaps someday…

He paused long enough to empty out the cash register, making a mental note to reimburse the owner. Not that he particularly cared about a human’s business. But if Darcy discovered he’d stolen from the shop, she would pester him for weeks about his corrupted karma. And unfortunately, he might need the tenderhearted Were to convince Harley that he wasn’t some rabid monster who was plotting to kill her.

Leaving the dress shop, Salvatore made a stop at the small deli to scoop up several packaged sandwiches and bags of chips before making a final sweep of the neighborhood and returning to the motel room.

Careful to close the door and slide the bolt, Salvatore turned and…

“Dio,”
he breathed, staring at Harley as she stood in the middle of the hotel room.

Her wet hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the amulet dangled on a thin strip of material she’d ripped from a washcloth and tied around her neck, she wore nothing more than a towel she’d wrapped around her still damp body, and the gun was held in one hand with a casual expertise.

She should have looked ridiculous.

Instead, Salvatore felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut as he met the hazel eyes that flashed with a smoldering fury.

She was sexy, and dangerous as hell.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her hand tightening on the gun. As if she was considering the pleasure of shooting him.

He reached down to grasp the bags and piled them onto the bed, clever enough to hide his smile of satisfaction at her annoyance.

“We needed supplies,” he smoothly explained.

“And what if you’d stumbled across one of Caine’s pack? Or that Briggs?”

He turned to meet her scowl. “Were you worried for me, Harley?”

She stiffened, not about to admit the truth.

“You’re in no condition to be out running around.”

“Ah, you do care.”

“You might have led them here.”

“I wasn’t followed.”

Prowling forward, Salvatore stripped off his tattered jacket and shirt, tossing them on the floor.

Harley instinctively stepped back, although she couldn’t hide the manner in which her gaze lingered on his bare chest.

“What are you doing?”

“I need you to dig out the silver in my shoulder.”

“With what?” She shook her head as Salvatore reached down to pull the dagger from the sheath at his ankle. “No. No way.”

Salvatore plucked the gun from her hand, tossing it on the bed before pressing the hilt of the dagger into her unwilling fingers.

“It has to be done, Harley. I can’t reach them.”

She clenched her jaw, trapped between her desire to condemn him to hell and the knowledge that his injuries wouldn’t heal until the silver was gone.

“Damn.” She pointed toward the chair by the small table. “Sit down.”

Taking his seat, Salvatore waited until Harley was standing rigidly behind him, reaching over his shoulder to grasp her hand and press it to his lips.

“Just the silver,
cara.
”

She predictably yanked her hand from his touch, but Salvatore didn’t miss the care she took not to jostle his shoulder.

“If I decide to kill you, it won’t be with a knife in the back,” she muttered. “Hold still.”

Bracing his hands against his knees, Salvatore closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Unlike vamps, he didn’t have the ability to go into a healing trance to avoid his injuries. Until he could shift, he had to grin and bear it.

Well, not grin.

It was more of a groan-really-loud and bear it.

Bowing his head, Salvatore clenched his teeth, trying to remember he was a macho king, while Harley sliced through his flesh, searching for the silver shards that had burrowed deep beneath the skin.

Harley cursed beneath her breath as she struggled with a particularly defiant shard.

“Am I hurting you?” she rasped.

“Harley, you’re cutting into my shoulder with a rather large knife,” he pointed out softly.

There was another searing jolt of pain, then blessed relief as the last of the debilitating silver was removed and his natural powers kicked into gear.

“I think that’s it,” she muttered, giving a tiny squeak of alarm as Salvatore surged from the chair and with a burst of energy, shifted into his wolf form.

At any other time, Salvatore would have taken smug pleasure in Harley’s gaze that clung to his large body with unconscious appreciation, perhaps even have done a bit of showing off to prove the strength of his body and the beauty of his thick raven fur.

Now, he sprawled on the carpet and shuddered as he struggled to heal his wounds, feeling as weak as a pup despite the mystical forces that flowed through his blood.

Any preening would have to wait.

A damned shame.

It was one of his finer talents.

His shoulder cramped as the torn muscles and punctured skin knit back together, the burned flesh being restored, although it remained tender. Tired, hungry, and weakened by the mating bond, it would take some time for him to fully recover.

Allowing himself only a brief moment to savor the primitive pleasure of embracing his wolf, Salvatore grudgingly shifted back to human, indifferent to his lack of clothing as he shakily rose to his feet.

A Were was rarely modest.

He did pause to scoop the amulet off the carpet. He didn’t know enough about magic to know how close he had to keep the thing to hide his scent, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

“
Cristo.
I need a shower,” he muttered, crossing toward the bathroom. “There’s food and clothes for you in the bags.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” He glanced over his shoulder and pointed toward the bags on the bed. “Eat.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Yes, sire. At once, sire.”

“And behave yourself.”

Leaving the door to the bathroom open, Salvatore stepped into the shower, sighing in relief as the hot water poured over his body. He was less pleased by the cheap motel soap and shampoo, but at least it managed to scrub away the grime, and wrapping a towel around his waist, he ripped a strip off a washcloth to tie the amulet around his neck.

He shoved the wet hair from his face and returned to the main room, a small smile curving his lips as he discovered Harley had pulled on the flannel nightgown that fell past her knees.

No doubt she assumed the repulsive garment would stifle his rampant desire. Instead, Salvatore found himself pondering the various methods of stripping it off.

He could do it slow, tugging the ugly fabric upward to reveal the body beneath, inch by glorious inch. He could do it quick, ripping open the gown with a sharp jerk. He could do it using nothing more than his teeth.

Pacing the floor with short, jerky steps, Harley watched as he moved toward the bed, her expression oddly wary.

“Now what?” she demanded.

“Now I eat and we get some rest,” Salvatore said, casually tugging off the towel and reaching in one of the bags for a pair of black satin boxers.

With a choked sound, Harley turned abruptly to stare at the wall, her back rigid.

“Can’t you call someone to come and pick us up?” she gritted. “This isn’t the most secure location.”

Pulling on the boxers, Salvatore settled on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he took three of the roast beef sandwiches and wolfed them down.

Literally.

“I intend to be on the move before anyone could reach us. Is there a problem?”

“Do you want a list?” There was a pause, then squaring her shoulders, Harley turned to scowl at him. “Tell me why you don’t want to call your pack. The truth.”

Salvatore stiffened in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to be able to read him with such ease.

It was…unnerving.

He wiped his hands and piled the empty wrappers on the nightstand.

“I have no proof, but I suspect that Briggs is capable of controlling the minds of both Weres and curs, if only for a short amount of time,” he confessed.

Her brows lifted. “Did he control your mind?”

“No, but before I battled him, I was attacked by Weres who had always been unquestionably loyal to me.” His hands clenched in ancient anger. “I was forced to kill more than one of them.”

“Maybe they just weren’t as loyal as you thought they were.”

Salvatore shrugged. He wished she was right. It was easier to accept he’d killed traitors rather than faithful companions who’d been under the compulsion of Briggs.

Unfortunately, he knew his servants too well.

They would carve out their own hearts before betraying him.

“I’m not going to take any chances.”

“But you are taking a chance,” she pointed out. “For all you know, my mind might be under the control of Briggs.”

Salvatore snorted. “You’re too bloody stubborn to be controlled by anyone. Besides, I’ve been with you for hours. I doubt Briggs’s power lasts more than a few minutes.”

She considered his words, absently nibbling on her thumbnail.

“I suppose it would explain Caine’s ridiculous belief he had some sort of vision,” she conceded.

“I’d say his outsized ego has as much to do with his visions as Briggs’s,” he muttered.

She ignored his sour opinion of the cur. “It seems risky to expose vampires to a magic-mad Were.”

“The vamps are impervious to mind control. Unfortunately, it’s too close to dawn for them to travel. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to meet up with them.” He patted the mattress. “For now we rest.”

She licked her lips, abruptly appearing more disturbed by joining him on the bed than his confession that Briggs could control minds.

“Fine. You rest and I’ll keep watch,” she croaked.

“I already did a sweep. No one knows that we’re here.”

“You can’t be sure…” She sucked in a startled breath as Salvatore slid off the bed, and with fluid speed, had moved to snatch her off her feet. “Dammit, put me down.”

“With pleasure.”

With two long strides he was tossing her onto the bed and swiftly covering her with his body. A violent pleasure surged through him at the feel of her slender curves that fit perfectly against him.

Dio.

He didn’t know if it was the mating bond that made him react with such raw, biting hunger to this particular female, or if it was simply a normal reaction between a man and woman, and in truth, he didn’t care.

He wanted her.

Now.

Salvatore watched the hazel eyes darken as Harley reacted to the prickling heat that filled the air, able to hear the sudden leap of her heart.

“Get off me,” she gritted, clearly not as pleased as Salvatore by their explosive response to one another.

“We’re staying in this bed, Harley,” he warned. “It’s up to you whether we sleep, or enjoy a more pleasurable pastime.”

Harley wrenched her gaze from the molten gold of his eyes, feeling as if she were slowly melting beneath the potent heat of his desire.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She was in a cheap motel, on the run because she’d been stupid enough to allow her curiosity to overcome her common sense, and in bed with a king she had been taught to fear and loathe for the past thirty years.

She should be kicking some serious Were butt, not battling the urge to sink her hands in that thick raven hair so she could tug his head down and kiss him senseless.

Of course, in her defense, the man was obscenely beautiful.

Not only his lean, savagely handsome face, but his body that more than lived up to its promise once the ragged clothing had been removed.

His bronzed skin was smooth and stretched tautly over the lean, sculpted muscles that rippled with a fascinating ease. His chest was broad and tapered to a slender waist, his arms were toned without unnecessary bulk, and his hands were perfectly formed, with slender fingers that were currently stroking her shoulders with a tender touch that sent streaks of heat to all her most intimate places.

Yummy goodness from the top to bottom, and every place in between.

Damn him.

“You deliberately picked a room with only one bed, didn’t you?” she accused, her voice embarrassingly husky.

“I chose the room farthest from the office and out of sight of the road.” A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “The fact that it only has one bed is a bonus.”

“Bonus for you, maybe.”

He lowered his head to nuzzle a spot just behind her ear, making Harley’s heart stutter in shock. When had that particular spot become so sensitive?

“I could make sure it’s a bonus for you as well.”

“You’re so full of yourself…” Her taunting words were completely ruined as his seeking lips found another point of weakness at the base of her throat. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he growled, nipping her collarbone. “Do you taste so sweet all over?”

His exotic, musky scent invaded her senses, seeping into her skin like the finest aphrodisiac. The distracting smell clouded her mind, which was the only explanation for why her hands lifted to stroke down the magnificent length of his back.

“What are you doing to me?” she muttered.

His soft laugh brushed over her cheek as he reached down to grasp the hem of her nightgown, and with one smooth motion had it tugged over her head and tossed across the room.

“Do you want a detailed explanation or will a brief overview do?” he demanded, arching back to run a searing gaze over her body, now covered in nothing more than a pair of white panties.

Harley shivered, the golden gaze a near tangible force as it lingered on her oddly heavy breasts.

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t have a clue.”

“You’re using some sort of power to…”

He shifted, settling between her legs that had instinctively widened. Lowering his head, the raven hair brushed against the puckered tips of her nipples.

“To what?”

“To seduce me.”

His tongue flicked over her nipple, the rough stroke wrenching a moan from her throat.

“Power?”

She dug her nails into the smooth skin of his lower back. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He continued to tease her nipple, his hardening erection pressing with flawless precision against her feminine core. Oh…God. It felt good. Insanely good.

“Laughing is not what I want to be doing with you,” he said, kissing a path between her breasts.

“Giuliani.”

With a low groan, Salvatore surged upward to claim her lips in an openmouthed kiss that was hard with unrestrained hunger. Need blazed through her like wildfire, searing away any hope of resistance.

“I don’t know what power you’re talking about,
cara,
unless it’s the potent appeal of my manly charm,” he husked against her lips. “Which I’ve been told is irresistible.”

Her hips arched upward in blatant invitation. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t want you. I don’t even know you.”

He chuckled, scorching a path of kisses down her throat. “We have all of eternity to become better acquainted.”

She retained enough sense to shy from his possessive tone. The only thing in her life she was certain of was the fact she was tired of being manipulated by others.

From now on, she intended to be in charge of her own life.

“Not likely,” she warned, scraping her nails up his back. She reveled in his violent shudder of pleasure. “And if you think this means I’m ever becoming your stupid queen, then you can just think again.”

“
Cristo,
Harley,” he breathed. “Can’t I even kiss you without you arguing?”

“I just don’t want you thinking…”

His hands skimmed over her body, his mouth planting restless kisses between her breasts and down the quivering plane of her stomach.

“I’m not thinking,
cara,
” he rasped. “And that is supposed to be the point. Let yourself go.”

Harley nearly came off the bed when his tongue dipped into her belly button, a shocking bolt of pleasure aiming straight between her legs.

Lord. Salvatore’s lovemaking was as intense and ruthless as his personality.

She felt like she was being battered with sensations. The relentless exploration of his hands, the thrilling expertise of his lips, the hard thrust of his erection.

It was like being tossed into the middle of a maelstrom with no idea of how she got there.

“You mean you want me to give myself to you?” she managed to demand.

He lifted his head to regard her with open amusement. “How delightfully Victorian. If you prefer, I can give myself to you.”

“Good.” Way past the point of no return, Harley decided the only thing left was to take charge of the situation. Running her hands up the curve of his back, she plunged her fingers into his hair, and with one smooth motion she was flipping Salvatore onto his back and straddling his waist. She smiled smugly as she gazed down at his startled expression. “Then you won’t mind if I’m on top.”

Hell, no, Salvatore didn’t mind.

What werewolf didn’t like a woman who knew what she wanted—and was daring enough to take it?

Especially if that taking included his body, which was primed and ready to please this female.

Of course, he would prefer if she wasn’t glaring down at him as if she was debating between kissing him senseless or breaking his jaw.

Spread across the lumpy mattress, Salvatore allowed his hands to skim up her bare thighs, his gaze drinking in the sight of her delicate face framed by the fall of golden hair, the shimmering hazel eyes. His heart thundered in his chest as his gaze lowered to linger on the perfect breasts tipped with rosy nipples before lowering to the slender curve of her waist.

The male in him reacted with predictable desire to her naked beauty, but the stirring of his wolf was unexpected. He’d never experienced having his animal so close to the surface during sex, and he was caught off guard by the violent excitement that pulsed through his blood.

She sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes glowed with the inner fire of his beast, filling the room with a golden light. But it wasn’t fear that rippled over her features. It was the same raw need that clawed at him.

“You wanted to be on top,
cara,
” he said thickly, his hands lifting to cup her breasts, his thumbs strumming her hardened nipples. “Shouldn’t you be taking advantage of me?”

Her eyes narrowed at his blatant challenge, her hands tightening in his hair as she leaned down to kiss him with a rough passion that made his wolf growl in pleasure. She tasted of vanilla and woman, magic and power all wrapped in sweet temptation.

Salvatore’s hips lifted off the bed, rubbing his aching cock against her. Even through the satin he felt scalded by her heat.

Dio.
He needed to be in her.

He needed to mark her with his passion, with his scent, with his very essence.

As if sensing his possessive animal instinct, Harley sharply nipped his bottom lip.

“This means nothing, Giuliani,” she muttered.

His hands followed the curve of her waist, ripping off her satin panties.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,
cara.
”

“Arrogant bastard.”

Salvatore sucked in a sharp breath as Harley planted a path of wet, demanding kisses over his chest, her hips rocking against his erection. Arrogant? In this moment he would have happily gone down on his knees to beg Harley to put him out of his misery.

“Harley.”

His plea was cut short as she wiggled down his body, the tormenting kisses heading ever lower.

Gritting his teeth, Salvatore shifted his hands to clutch the blanket beneath him. It was that, or toss her back onto the mattress and take her with a furious hunger.

Unaware of how close he was to the edge, or perhaps simply enjoying her power over him, Harley continued to drive him mad, her lips sending tiny shock waves through his body. Then without warning, her seeking mouth closed over the tip of his cock, the moist heat branding him through the satin of his boxers.

“Cristo.”
He reached to grasp her arms, hauling her up his body to claim her lips with a force just short of pain. “I throw in the towel,
cara,
” he growled, his accent thick. “I can bear no more.”

She deliberately rolled her hips, her smile smug. “Shouldn’t a king be able…” Her eyes widened with shock as Salvatore reached to jerk down his boxers, and with one smooth motion was lifting his hips to pierce her damp heat. “Oh, God.”

Smoothing his hands up her back, Salvatore sucked the tip of her breast between his lips, relishing her low moan of pleasure. She fit as tight as a glove around him, making him tremble with the effort to wait until she was accustomed to his penetration.

“So good,” he rasped. “Ride me, Harley.”

Planting her hands on his chest, she lifted her hips, drawing him out to the very tip before slowly sinking back down, burying him deep inside her. Salvatore muttered a curse, his hands gripping her hips as he waged war against his looming orgasm.

Dammit. He was famed for his stamina. He could satisfy a woman for hours before claiming his own release. But never before had sex called to both the man and beast inside him.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he concentrated on the mesmerizing beauty of her face. For once her features were unguarded, flushed with passion, and her eyes dilated as she quickened her pace.

His hips lifted to meet her downward strokes, his growl of satisfaction filling the air as her fingernails bit into his chest, drawing blood.

The air was scented with her arousal, her slender body bowing above him as she tipped back her head and lost herself in the pleasure.

“Salvatore,” she cried softly, a frantic edge in her voice as her climax neared.

“Cara,”
he whispered. “Let go.”

“I…” She moaned in relief as Salvatore tightened his grip on her hips, pumping deep into her with a relentless tempo. “More.”

“As much as you desire, Harley,” he swore, his hand cupping the back of her head and tugging her down so he could kiss her with savage pleasure.

Their tongues tangled, their bodies moving together with a growing desperation. Then, just when Salvatore feared he was going to explode, he felt Harley stiffen, her cry of completion muffled against his lips.

Salvatore sank his fingers in her satin hair as her climax clutched at his cock, his hips slamming upward as he unleashed his passion in a flurry of unrestrained hunger.

His wolf howled in satisfaction as his orgasm burst through him, the shock waves of pleasure radiating through his entire body.

His.

His woman. His mate.

The other half of himself.

Salvatore jerked awake, muttering a curse as he realized just how deeply he’d slept.

Not entirely unexpected. He’d been forced to burn through his energy at a dangerous pace while he was injured. His body demanded the time necessary to recover. Even if it left him vulnerable.

Instinctively his arms reached across the bed for Harley. It was one thing to risk his own neck, and quite another to risk his mate.

His eyes snapped open as his seeking hands found nothing but rumpled sheets.

“Harley?” he muttered, his sluggish mind belatedly recalling her smell was masked by the amulet.
Dio.
Leaping from the bed, he tugged on jeans and a white T-shirt as he noted the khaki shorts and shirt he’d stolen for Harley were missing. “Stubborn, ill-mannered brat,” he muttered, slipping on the running shoes and shoving his hands through his tangled hair. “When I get my hands on her, I’ll…” Salvatore stiffened as the scent of cur tainted the air. “Shit.”

Gathering the gun and dagger left on the nightstand, Salvatore cautiously slid from the room, avoiding the late afternoon shadows as he inched around the hotel to study the nearly empty parking lot.

Two men stood near the trash dumpster. One was a tall, gaunt human with thinning black hair and a narrow, impressively ugly face. The other was a young cur with clipped brown hair and the muscular body of a weight lifter.

“A blonde, you said?” the human was saying, a cunning light in his pale eyes.

The cur gave an impatient nod. “Traveling with a dark-haired man.”

Obviously angling for a bribe, the man cleared his throat. “That’s not much to go on.”

The cur bunched his muscles, predictably oblivious to the hints. Curs didn’t do subtle.

“Don’t jerk me around,” he warned. “How many strangers do you get in this hillbilly hellhole?”

Stiffening, the man tossed two garbage bags into the Dumpster and headed for the motel.

“Maybe you should just be moving along.”

With a low growl, the cur had moved to block the man’s path, his hand shooting out to grab his shirt and lift him a few inches off the ground.

“And maybe you should answer my question before I rip out your throat.”

“Jesus Christ, what the hell’s up with your eyes?”

Muttering a curse, Salvatore was crossing the parking lot. What was wrong with the stupid cur?