Reaching the edge of the town, Salvatore took a moment to consider his options. There was always the possibility that Harley had decided to return to Caine. She had to know the cur would be willing to forgive her anything if she agreed to stay with him. There was also the possibility that she’d stolen a car and was even now speeding ever farther away.

His instinct, however, told him that she was still near.

Entering the woods that sprawled north of the town, Salvatore cautiously threaded his way through the thick undergrowth. In the distance he could hear the call of birds and the rustle of small game, but a heavy silence cloaked around him. Not unusual. Animals could sense his predatory nature. It was, instead, the prickle of energy that warned a Were was near.

“Harley?”

Alarm trickled down his spine as the scent of rotting meat filled the air. Whoever was out there, it wasn’t Harley.

Swiftly tugging off his clothes, Salvatore prepared to shift. Under normal circumstances there wasn’t a Were born who could challenge him. Unfortunately, his unclaimed mating bond made him vulnerable.

Calling his power, Salvatore hesitated as a cold chill blasted from a small clearing just ahead of him and the shimmering outline of a man began to form. His hands clenched as he recognized the short Were with unkempt brown hair and crimson eyes.

He was paler than he recalled, his face thinner, and his eyes an even deeper red. But there was no mistaking the cruel features and whiff of madness that clung to him.

“Briggs,” he hissed.

“Ah, Salvatore Giuliani,” the man sneered, his English accent as pronounced as it had been centuries ago. Briggs had always been too arrogant to try to blend in with the crowd. Which explained the long black cloak he had wrapped around his slender body. Or maybe his taste in fashion was just that revolting. “You cannot know how long I have waited for this moment.”

“I presume you’ve been waiting since I kicked your ass, tossed you in a fire, and spread your ashes on a dung heap,” Salvatore sneered.

The crimson eyes flashed, the chill spreading to bite into Salvatore’s skin. Dio. What had Briggs done to himself?

“So proud of yourself, and yet here I am.”

Salvatore narrowed his gaze. He didn’t know jack-crap about magic, but he was certain a Were couldn’t suck enough power from his host to pop from one place to another. Briggs had to be projecting his appearance.

Not that it made him any less dangerous.

Or less crazy.

“But not in all your glory,” Salvatore taunted, vividly recalling that Briggs’s weakness had always been his inability to control his temper. “Afraid to face me like a true Were, magic-sucker?”

“And why should I bother when I have slaves to collect the trash?”

Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore staggered backwards as the Were sent a crushing command toward the distant curs. The years obviously hadn’t taught the Were any restraint. He’d always been a big fan of overkill.

Shaking off the pinpricks of pain, Salvatore studied his age-old enemy. It wouldn’t take long for the curs to arrive. Before then, he needed to know how Briggs was still alive and what the hell he was plotting.

“Surely you can’t be idiotic enough to believe your curs can capture me?”

Briggs smirked, confident he had Salvatore cornered. “They are remarkably inept, but they serve their purpose on most occasions.”

“Not this occasion.” Salvatore shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. “Unless you have a few hundred hidden among the trees.”

“As always, you have sadly underestimated me, Salvatore.”

“No, Briggs, as always, you’ve overestimated yourself.” Indifferent to the fact that he was stark naked, Salvatore folded his arms over his chest and peered down his nose at the smaller Were. Briggs hated to be reminded of his small stature. “You would think dying once would have taught you that you will never be as good as me. I’m the king, and you’re a tainted has-been who has to use black magic because he isn’t Were enough to beat me.”

“King?” Briggs curled his lips. “You’re a pathetic upstart who stole what was rightfully mine.”

“If it was rightfully yours, I would never be allowed to sit on the throne. You were found unworthy.”

“Bastard.” Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore felt icy bands of power wrap around him, driving him to his knees. “I will make you pay.”

“Magic,” Salvatore snarled, nearly gagging at the stench of rotting meat. A Were’s strength was a warm, earthy force that had nothing in common with the twisted perversion of black magic. “You’re pathetic.”

Briggs moved toward him, his cloak rippling around him, though the leaves beneath his feet made no sound.

Freak.

“I’m not the one on my knees.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything you took from me.”

Salvatore spit at the heavy boots that halted mere feet away. “The Weres will never accept a walking corpse who stinks of treachery.”

“They will have no choice.”

Salvatore’s sharp laugh echoed through the trees. “Weres always have a choice.”

“I can give them what you cannot.”

“And what’s that?”

The Were smirked. “A future.”

“Future? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Children.”

Salvatore sucked in a stunned breath. No. This lunatic couldn’t possibly have found the cure to heal the Weres. Fate might be cruel, but it couldn’t be completely without mercy.

Briggs was an unstable, power-hungry despot who would lead the Were to certain destruction.

“You think you can produce children with magic?” he demanded.

“I would not be the first Were leader willing to seek help for our people through…unconventional means.” A taunting smile curved his lips. “How do you think I was first introduced to the power?”

“You lie.”

Briggs reached out to run a finger down Salvatore’s cheek, his touch leaving a trail of frigid pain.

“I was taken into the king’s confidence when it was obvious I was to be his heir.” His eyes flashed with pure hate. “Before you were born.”

Salvatore gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the unease that stirred in the pit of his stomach.

The previous king had been a reclusive, sometimes volatile beast who too often disappeared for years on end. He’d become even more secretive after Salvatore had come into his powers, rarely mingling among his pack.

But there hadn’t been any hint he was brewing up evil in his lair.

That seemed like something Salvatore would have noticed.

“If that was true, then he would have shared the same information with me,” he rasped.

“He was warned not to.”

“Warned? By who?”

“By the ancient spirits.”

“Cristo.” Salvatore jerked from Briggs’s painful touch. “You’re completely nuts.”

Fury tightened the gaunt face. “Do not dare to mock me.”

“If you’re to be the great Messiah, then where are your creations?”

With an effort, Briggs regained command of his temper, smoothing his hands down the ridiculous cloak.

“All in good time.”

There was no mistaking the Were’s smug confidence, and Salvatore was hit by a sudden suspicion.

“God, you can’t believe you will change your pathetic curs into purebloods?” He shook his head. “I would expect such stupidity from Caine. But you, Briggs? How disappointing.”

Briggs’s expression was condescending, reminding Salvatore how much pleasure it had been to cut out his heart.

“I merely offered the cur the opportunity to glimpse into his future. What he claims to have seen is no concern of mine.”

“If it isn’t the curs, then where are your supposed children?”

“They will come when the time is right,” Briggs assured him. “You interfered too soon.”

Interfered? As much as Salvatore wanted to take credit for disrupting Briggs’s nefarious plans, he hadn’t done anything more than stumble across Caine. And…Harley.

A sudden, blinding rage rushed through Salvatore as he struggled against the icy bonds that held him.

“You son of a bitch,” he ground out. “You will never have Harley, or her sisters. Never.”

“Harley?” Briggs appeared genuinely puzzled. “Ah, Caine’s bitch.” He shrugged. “She’ll no doubt warm my bed, as will all the female purebloods.”

Salvatore’s rage faltered, his brow furrowed. “You can’t fool me, Briggs. You’re responsible for stealing the baby Weres from my nursery.”

“Of course, I did. And they have proven to be the perfect distraction.” He chuckled. “Even better than I could ever have dreamed possible.”

“You had four pureblooded babies snatched for a distraction?”

“I knew how desperately you were pinning your hopes on them and that you would sacrifice anything to retrieve them, even leaving your stronghold in Rome,” Briggs drawled, his flagrant conceit etched on his face. “They were mere pawns in your ultimate destruction.”