Beyond the Darkness. Alexandra Ivy

weren’t currently standing in the cramped tunnels that ran beneath the estate. He was tired, stressed on an epic scale, and in no humor to meet with the ancient Were who stood in the depths of the shadows, his eyes glowing an eerie crimson and his body wrapped in a heavy cape.

      Christ, the man was nasty. Caine shivered, for the first time realizing that rather than the usual heat that radiated from Weres, the air was filled with an unpleasant chill.

      Like his companion was a damned corpse.

      Or a bloodsucker.

      Clearing the fear from his throat, Caine tilted his chin. The Were had demanded this meeting the moment Caine had revealed that he had captured Salvatore. He had no idea how the Were had arrived so swiftly, and in truth, he didn’t want to know. But since his arrival, the arrogant dog had done nothing but complain and criticize.

      Typical.

      The bastard was never satisfied with Caine’s efforts.

      Which was precisely why Caine tried to limit the number of reunions to one or two a decade.

      “I told you I would take care of Salvatore and I did,” he said, tired of being a whipping boy for the Weres.

      “You also promised you would make sure that he didn’t find the female Weres until I was prepared to act,” his companion taunted, his voice oddly hoarse, as always.

      “It wasn’t my fault.”

      “It never is.”

      Caine’s skin prickled as he battled against his snarling wolf. When he was tense, it was always more difficult to control his shifts.

      “If you think you can do better, then you take him.”

      “It’s not time yet, you fool.”

      “Time for what?”

      “Destiny to be fulfilled.”

      “Well, screw it. I’ve waited thirty years for this supposed destiny to happen,” Caine snapped. “I’m getting tired of empty promises.”

      The Were released a warning growl. “Are you questioning my authority?”

      Caine bit back his angry words, realizing he had gone too far. Swallowing his pride, he knelt in a gesture of submission.

      For now, he needed the disturbing Were.

      But someday…

      “No.”

      “Remember this, cur, if something happens to Salvatore before my plans are complete, I’ll skin you alive and feed you to the vultures.”

      There was a blast of cold air and a hair-raising scent of evil, then the Were seemed to simply melt into shadows.

      Caine counted to one hundred, then added another fifty just in case.

      Once he was certain he was alone, he turned his head to spit in the dirt.

      “Someday, I’m going to kill that bastard.”

      Harley woke to a pounding head, a dry mouth, and her body wrapped firmly in the arms of a warm, delicious Were.

      For a demented moment, she snuggled closer, lured by the heat and rich male musk that would entice any poor woman into helpless stupidity.

      It was only when Salvatore’s hands slid down to cup her ass and he pressed her against his hardening erection that she painfully came to her senses.

      Was she completely mental?

      With a shove that sent Salvatore flying onto his back, she scrambled to her feet and glared down at his smug smile.

      “Do you always grope unconscious women?”

      He folded his hands over his stomach and crossed his legs at the ankle. He should have looked ridiculous lying on the cement floor, with his raven hair tousled and his expensive suit wrinkled. But he didn’t.

      He looked…edible.

      The bronzed, stunningly beautiful features. The full, sensual lips. The whiskey-gold eyes.

      A delectable male, from the top of his raven hair to the tips of his Italian leather shoes.

      “Only those who crawl all over me in their sleep,” he said. “If anyone was violated, it was me.”

      The worst part was that Harley couldn’t be certain she hadn’t been violating him. Her body seemed to have lost its connection to her brain.

      “God,” she muttered, as annoyed with herself as with Salvatore. “Get over yourself.”

      In one fluid movement, he was on his feet and standing directly in front of her.

      “I’d rather be over you.”

      “Enough.” She abruptly turned from the smoldering invitation in his eyes, her palms sweating. “I have more important things to worry about than a dog in heat.”

      She felt him step back, although it didn’t help much. His power swirled through the small space with crushing force.

      “Do you know where we are?” he demanded.

      She turned and glanced around the six-by-six cage made of silver bars that was set in the middle of a barren cellar. There was nothing to identify the cramped prison beyond a narrow door and bare lightbulb in the center of the ceiling. There were no windows, no furniture, not even a blanket, but the muted scent of wooden logs gave away their location.

      “In Caine’s cabin near St. Louis.”

      Salvatore closed his eyes, testing the air. “It’s dusk.”

      “Do you have a point?”

      “Levet becomes a statue during the day.” His eyes opened, a hint of frustration shimmering in the golden depths. “He should be waking any moment to follow our trail.”

      Harley shook her head, Salvatore’s frustration echoing deep inside her. She might be furious with Caine, but she wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate him.

      “There won’t be a trail to follow.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “One of Caine’s lovers is a witch. He never moves from one lair to another without her casting a spell to cover his scent, as well as anyone with him.” She grimaced. “No one’s going to be able to find us.”

      “One of his lovers?” Salvatore arched a brow, ignoring the most pertinent point of her explanation. “How many does he have?”

      She made a sound of impatience. “I’ve never bothered to keep count. Why? Are you interested in joining the bimbo brigade?”

      “My only interest is in knowing whether or not you share his bed.”

      “It’s none of your damned business.”

      His lips twisted, an odd yearning flaring through his eyes. “Ah, if only that were true.”

      A melting heat threatened to weaken her knees and Harley gave a sharp shake of her head.

      She wasn’t going to be distracted.

      “I don’t know what your damage is, but in case you’ve failed to notice, we’re in a little bit of trouble here. Can you focus on something other than trying to get into my pants?”

      His lips curled. “I can multitask.”

      No crap.

      “Fan-frigging-tastic,” she groused. “Then get us out of here.”

      Chapter Four

      Salvatore glanced toward the locked door of the cell, folding his arms across his chest.

      “And just how do you expect me to perform that particular miracle?”

      “I thought you were some