Beyond the Darkness. Alexandra IvyЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I don’t know.” Caine struggled to breathe, his perfect features twisted in a grimace of pain. “Dammit, he didn’t give me a name.”
“Describe him.”
The cur tilted back his head, the veins of his neck popping out as Salvatore’s power squeezed his body with brutal force.
“Short,” he gritted. “Brown hair, English accent.”
“You’re keeping something from me.” Salvatore cursed the silver bars that prevented him from getting his hands on the cur. The long-distance torture was taking its toll. “What is it?”
Caine’s eyes flashed as he struggled to shift. An impossible task so long as Salvatore held him in his control.
“I’m going to kill you,” the cur hissed.
Salvatore tightened his grip. “Wrong answer.”
The cur’s labored breathing echoed through the room as he glared at Salvatore with sheer hatred.
Far preferable to the smug grin.
“His eyes were red even when he was in human form,” he at last ground out.
Pure shock gripped Salvatore. Merda.
It couldn’t be.
He had killed the bastard nearly a century ago.
Still, the description was unmistakable.
“Briggs,” he breathed.
Harley moved to his side. “Do you know him?”
“Obviously not as well as I thought I did.”
Across the room, Caine snarled in pain. “Release me.”
Salvatore gritted his teeth, cursing his weakened state. His hold on the cur was hanging by a thread.
With the last of his strength, he focused on Caine.
“Not until you’ve offered me a quid pro quo. Get the keys and unlock this cell.”
“Rot in hell.”
“Don’t make me ask you again,” Salvatore gritted, but the power behind his words faltered, and with a low growl Caine lurched forward, breaking the invisible bonds that held him.
“Bastard,” the cur breathed, reaching behind his back to pull out a handgun he had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
Salvatore didn’t even try to regain command of the infuriated Caine. Instead, he instinctively turned to wrap Harley in his arms, driving her to the ground and covering her with his body.
Chapter Five
It happened so fast, it was little more than a blur to Harley.
One minute she was standing beside Salvatore, and the next she was flat on her back with the damned Were perched on top of her.
She flinched as the sound of a gun firing echoed painfully through the small room, the bullets flying harmlessly overhead, striking the cement wall and filling the air with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
The shooting came to a halt and Harley heard the slam of the door as Caine beat a hasty retreat.
They lay motionless; the rapid beat of their hearts the only sound to break the heavy silence.
Slowly the stench of gunpowder was replaced by Salvatore’s rich musk that seemed to seep into Harley’s skin, branding her with an awareness that was as unwelcomed as the realization of just how perfect his heavy body felt pressed so intimately against hers.
Damned Were.
He had to be doing some sort of mystical werewolf shit on her.
She refused to believe that his savage magnetism could be anything but a trick.
As if deliberately mocking her desperate theory, Salvatore shifted to settle his hips between her spread legs, his head lowering until his face was pressed against the curve of her neck and the raven hair fell about her like a curtain of warm satin.
A treacherous heat swirled through the pit of her stomach and Harley planted her hands against his chest.
A distraction.
That’s what she needed.
And pronto.
“Well, that worked out well,” she muttered, her heart slamming against her chest when his lips lightly touched the base of her throat.
“Could be worse,” he murmured.
“Get off me.”
“Why?” His lips continued to nibble, sending jolts of electric pleasure through her. “We’re obviously stuck in here for the time being. We might as well make the best of a bad situation.”
Oh…God. She squeezed her eyes shut, battling the fierce tug of attraction that flared between them.
Distraction, distraction, distraction…
“Did you turn Caine into a cur?” she husked.
He stilled, as if caught off guard by her question. “No.”
“Then how did you control him?”
“I’m the king. All curs belong to me.”
Harley snorted. Pure arrogance, in all its glory.
“And the Weres?”
“Of course.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “You’re mine, cara. From the top of your golden head to the tips of your tiny toes, and every delectable curve in between.”
Harley felt a flutter of unease as she recalled how Salvatore had held Caine captive.
“No frigging way,” she rasped.
He laughed softly, his breath brushing against her skin, making it prickle with excitement.
“In every way.” He pulled back to regard her with an unnerving intensity. “And just a word of warning, Harley, I don’t share.”
Her mouth went dry even as she was shaking her head in denial.
“God, I thought Caine was off his nut.”
The golden gaze skimmed down to her mouth. “I make no guarantee of my sanity, but I do promise that my claim to you is very real.”
“Salvatore.”
“I like the sound of my name on your lips,” he muttered, abruptly lowering his head as if unable to resist temptation. “And the taste,” he whispered against her mouth. “I especially like the taste.”
It was the biting need clutching her body that at last pushed her unease to sheer panic.
Without giving herself time to think, she shoved her hands against his chest, sending him flying off her and onto his back on the cement floor.
“What part of ‘get off me’ did you not understand?” she rasped, scrambling to her feet to glare down at his amused expression. “What’s so funny?”
With a liquid grace he was on his feet, his raven hair tumbling about his lean face and the golden eyes glowing with anticipation.
“I’m a predator.”
Like that was some sort of secret?
The man reeked of danger.
“And?”
“And there’s nothing I enjoy more than the chase.” He smiled, his teeth startling white against his bronzed skin. “Well…almost nothing. I have a feeling that on this occasion, the capture is going to be even more satisfying.”
Prey? Her eyes narrowed. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m some sort of helpless female that’s yours for the taking.”
“I