“Outside.”

“Shit.”

Standing, Salvatore crossed the room to grab her by the shoulders.

“Find Santiago and stay with him,” he commanded. “Styx should be here within the hour.”

Her mouth dropped open with disbelief. Did he really think she was going to be treated like some swooning female who had to be protected by her big strong male?

“No.”

“Cara, don’t argue with me,” he growled. “Not now.”

She stubbornly held her ground. “You’re not facing that lunatic by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re safe. Do this for me.” His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with concern. “Please.”

“Salvatore…”

Putting an end to the argument, Salvatore wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her over his shoulder. Then striding across the floor, he yanked open the door and set her down in the hallway.

“Go.”

“Dammit.” The door was shut in her face, followed by the distinct sound of the bolt being thrown.

She stood for a minute, weighing the pleasure of kicking down the door and teaching the damned Were a badly needed lesson in pushing her around against accepting that she was wasting time.

Salvatore was just idiotic enough to face Briggs on his own, regardless of the fact that he wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

So freaking, typically male.

Turning on her heel, Harley headed down the stairs and back across the wide lobby. It was late, but she could still hear the muted roars from the nightclub below. Obviously blood and sex were a big draw in the ol’ demon world.

She was nearing the stairs leading back down to the pit when a female form detached from a shadowed alcove, and the scent of plums swirled through the air.

Tonya, the royal imp.

Or more likely, the royal slut, Harley cattily decided, her gaze skimming over the red microdress that had been lacquered on the lush body, and the heavy layer of makeup on the pale, perfect face.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own, sweet thing,” the imp drawled. “There are all sorts of beasties roaming around who don’t mind if a woman goes furry once a month.”

Not bothering to react to the insult or correct the assumption, Harley stabbed the imp with an impatient glare.

“I need Santiago.”

“The King of Weres isn’t enough for you?”

Harley stepped until they were nose to nose. “Don’t. Screw. With. Me. Where is he?”

The woman swallowed, her eyes suddenly wide. “His office.”

“You see, that wasn’t so hard.”

With a pat on the imp’s cheek, Harley headed for the back of the lobby, not missing a step as the angry woman called out behind her.

“Bitch.”

Reaching the office, Harley shoved open the door and stepped over the threshold, indifferent to the dangers of intruding on a vampire without invitation.

“I need your help.”

Seated behind his desk, Santiago gave a lift of his brows before slowly rising to his feet.

“Of course. I am at your service.”

“Salvatore is going outside to meet with Briggs.”

“Briggs?”

“A psychotic zombie pureblood who’s filled with black magic and sporting a nasty temper.” Her voice was clipped with impatience. “He’s convinced himself that he should be sitting on the Were throne.”

With fluid, almost dizzying speed, Santiago was moving toward a far wall, pressing his fingers to the frame of one of the paintings. With a small swoosh the wall slid inward, revealing a hidden tunnel.

“Wait here,” the vamp commanded, disappearing into the dark.

“Where are you going?” Harley threw her hands in the air as the demon ignored her, continuing on to his bat cave and leaving her to twiddle her damn thumbs. “God. Men are so freaking annoying.”

She glared at the opening, but she wasn’t stupid enough to follow. Entering the private lair of a vampire was a death sentence. Pure and simple.

Instead she anxiously paced the floor, cursing the dampening spell that made it impossible for her to sense whether Salvatore had already left the building.

How had Briggs managed to find them? And how had he broken through the enchantment to contact Salvatore without alerting Santiago?

Still pacing the floor, her stomach clenched with a fear that sparked her temper.

She curled her hands to fists. Why did she even care what happened to the arrogant King of Weres? Just a week ago he’d been the boogeyman that Caine used to keep her prisoner. Okay, she didn’t think he was out to kill her anymore. And he most certainly was the kind of take-no-prisoner lover, one that any woman would have to be an idiot to kick out of bed.

But he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a means to getting to her sisters, right? Ships passing in the night…yadda yadda.

Dammit.

She was counting to one hundred and if Santiago wasn’t back, she was going to look for Salvatore without him.

She reached twenty when Santiago made a silent reappearance, his long hair tied into a braid, carrying a leather satchel.

A vampire ready for action.

“We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” She frowned at his abrupt command. “No frigging way.”

His long strides never broke as he crossed to grasp her arm and steer her toward the door.

“Styx and his Ravens are fifty miles north of town. We’re driving to meet him.”

She dug in her heels. Not just a figment of speech. She might be tiny, but she was all Were.

An irate female Were with combat training.

One of the most dangerous creatures in the world.

“We’re not going anywhere until we’ve stopped Briggs from slaughtering Salvatore,” she hissed.

Coming to a grudging halt, Santiago met her angry glare with an unyielding expression.

“My orders are to keep you safe.”

“I don’t give a crap what your orders are.”

“Harley, you are currently my guest, but if you insist on putting yourself in danger, then I’ll make you my prisoner.”

She didn’t miss the silken warning in his dark voice.

“It doesn’t matter to you that Salvatore is in danger?”

“Not in the least.”

Harley clenched her hands, knowing she couldn’t force the vampire to help Salvatore fight Briggs.

“If you don’t care about Salvatore’s safety, then why are you so determined to protect me?” she snapped.

“You’re mate-sister to my Anasso. He was very clear in his command to bring you to him without delay.”

Perfect.

The nightclub was overflowing with powerful demons and not a cursed one would lift a finger to help her without the say-so of this vamp.

“Mate-sister or not, he’s not my king. I’ll decide when I leave.” She stepped forward, her temper reaching a critical level. Something or someone was about to get broken. “Get out of my way.”

Santiago reached behind his back, pulling a gun from his waistband.

“I am sorry, Harley.”

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, shoving him in the chest and making a wild dash toward the door.

He wouldn’t actually shoot her.

The thought flashed through her mind at the precise moment she felt a sharp pain in her butt, and the world went black.

Leaving the warehouse, Salvatore followed the sense of Briggs to the small park that had been built near the river. It was late enough to be empty of humans, and the few dew fairies who lingered preferred to dance in the tiny tendrils of fog that lay like a shroud on top of the water.

Prepared for a trap, Salvatore moved past the picnic tables set in concrete slabs and the neatly trimmed bushes, at last coming to a halt as a shimmer broke the air in front of the stone fountain.

He resisted the urge to sweep the area with his senses. For now he had to trust that Harley wasn’t going to do something stupid. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

There was a change in air pressure, then with a pop, the familiar form of Briggs was visible in the darkness.

Salvatore gagged at the stench of rotting meat that filled the frigid air.

“You’re looking a little ragged, mio amico,” he muttered, his gaze skimming over the haggard face and the too-thin body bent beneath the heavy cloak. Even in projection form, the pureblood looked like hell. “And you smell even worse. How long has it been since you got laid?”

“A few of us have priorities that don’t involve whores,” the crimson eyes flashed. “Of course, once I’ve taken the throne, I’ll have plenty of time to screw your mate. How poetic if she’s the first female to birth my litter.”

Salvatore’s wolf crawled beneath his skin, a brutal fury pumping through his blood.

“You try to bed Harley and she’ll rip your black heart out,” he rasped.

“Before I’m done with her, she’ll be begging to be in my bed. And if not…” The hollow chuckle sent a chill of revulsion down Salvatore’s spine. “I don’t mind taking my women by force. A struggle always adds a nice spice to sex.”