His sudden laughter echoed through the darkness. “No, cara, I don’t have a God complex.”
“Yeah, right.”
His gaze skimmed deliberately down her slender form, allowing his searing awareness to heat the air around them.
“I didn’t create you to be my daughter, Harley. I created you to be my queen.”
Chapter Seven
Harley was thankful that Salvatore’s outrageous claim managed to distract her from the knee-weakening relief that there was no possibility he might be her father.
Talk about ick factor.
“Queen?” she asked. Okay, it was more a squeak, much to her embarrassment.
Salvatore flashed a smile. “It’s your fate.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Ignoring your destiny won’t alter it.”
She should have punched the annoying bastard. She didn’t believe in destiny. And even if she did, she would make damned sure that it didn’t include becoming a part of this Were’s harem.
Queen or no queen.
But oddly, it wasn’t fury that raced through her. It was…excitement.
“Just shut up,” she hissed.
She ignored his speculative gaze as the tunnel split in two, and they halted to study the less than appetizing options.
So far beneath the ground it was nearly impossible to determine which direction they were headed. Especially for Weres, who depended heavily on their sense of smell.
Salvatore hesitated a long moment, clearly no more confident than she was in knowing the best means of escape. Then, with a shrug, he took off down the left passageway.
“This way.”
With little choice, Harley followed in his wake. As soon as they were safely away from Caine, she would decide when and where to ditch the arrogant King of Weres.
For now, she was willing to allow him to keep her from being put back in that damned cell.
“If you get us lost down here, I’m not going to be happy,” she warned.
“And that would be a change?”
Ridiculously, his sardonic tone made her smile. “Smart ass.”
Silence descended as they continued to wind their way through the twists and turns of the narrow passageway, Salvatore’s steps slowing the farther they traveled.
She frowned as she studied the broad width of his shoulders that seemed to droop with weariness, and the blood that stained the back of his once elegant jacket.
When had he been injured? And why weren’t the wounds healing?
If they were truly deep, then he only had to shift. Once he was in wolf form he could repair even a grievous injury.
Her brooding thoughts were interrupted as they were forced to bend beneath a particularly low section of the tunnel, the distinct sound of a click echoing through the thick, silent air.
“What was that?” she breathed, already knowing it couldn’t be good.
Whirling around, Salvatore grabbed her arm and thrust her ahead of him.
“Run.”
“What is it?” she demanded, taking off with as much speed as possible in the cramped tunnel.
“A trap,” Salvatore rasped.
On cue, there was the sound of grinding metal, then dust began to filter from the sides of the passageway. Expecting yet another ceiling to fall on her head, or the floor to open up and swallow her, Harley was unpleasantly surprised when silver darts began shooting from hidden slots in the walls.
“Shit.”
She crouched low and charged through the dark, hissing as one of the darts sliced through the back of her arm. Two more darts yanked through her ponytail, and one passed close enough to her ear that she heard it whistle.
She lost track of time, focused on dodging the barrage of silver that continued to shoot from the dirt walls.
Not a bad thing to focus on, considering the dart she barely avoided before it slammed into her temple.
It was not until the pelting projectiles had slowed to an occasional unpleasant surprise that Harley at last realized that Salvatore had fallen several steps behind, his beautiful face covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his head.
She stumbled to a halt, an odd alarm clenching her heart.
“Salvatore?”He stabbed her with an annoyed glare, his eyes glowing with a golden light.
“Just keep running.”
A stray dart shot between them and Harley heaved a resigned sigh. She couldn’t just leave him. Not when he was obviously injured.
Why she couldn’t was not something she intended to mull over.
“Crap.” Moving to his side, she draped one of his arms around her shoulders and grabbed him around the waist, taking as much weight as he would allow as they continued down the tunnel. “What’s wrong?”
“When Levet broke into the cell, it sent a shower of silver in my shoulder,” he grudgingly confessed. “It’s draining my strength.”
That would certainly explain his inability to shift, and his weakness. Still, she couldn’t shake off the sensation that he wasn’t being entirely honest.
“We have to find some place to rest,” she said, her own legs beginning to feel the strain as the tunnel dipped and curved, leading to seeming nowhere.
“No.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “This tunnel isn’t safe.”
She sighed, pretending she didn’t notice his musky male scent and the heat of his hard body that was sending tiny flutters through the pit of her stomach.
“Are you always so stubborn?”
He managed a crooked, knee-weakening smile. “I’m charmingly determined.”
Charmingly determined? He was frigging beautiful was what he was.
Even covered in filth, with his suit in tatters and his hair tangled, he was drop-dead, mind-numbingly beautiful.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” she muttered, more annoyed by her potent awareness of this Were than his teasing.
“As long as it’s your ass…” His drawling words trailed away, his golden eyes narrowed. “Wait.”
She frowned, grudgingly coming to a halt. “I thought you wanted to keep moving?”
He reached out a slender hand to press it against the side of the tunnel.
“There’s a way out just behind this wall.”
Harley squashed the distraction of Salvatore’s presence and concentrated on the wall, feeling the echo just beyond the dirt.
“I feel it.” She opened her eyes. “Can we get through?”
Salvatore straightened, pulling away from her. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Before she could point out they were currently absent a pick and shovel, Salvatore whirled in a movement too fast for human sight and kicked his foot against the hard dirt. Harley winched as his foot punched a large hole through the wall, revealing there was indeed an opening on the other side.
Damn. He could knock off a man’s head with that kick.
Or the head of a mouthy female.
Dismissing the unpleasant possibility, Harley moved forward, tugging at the clumps of crumbling dirt to enlarge the hole. She had barely started when Salvatore was at her side, his breath rasping as he shoved at a particularly stubborn rock.
“You don’t have to be Superman,” she said tartly. “I can do this.”
His brief smile was strained. “The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find someplace safe to hide.”
Harley grimaced, feeling as if she had been dipped, dredged, and battered in grime.
“This someplace better have a shower.”
Salvatore grunted, managing to shove aside the rock. Then, without hesitation, he pressed himself through the narrow opening. Harley rolled her eyes as she hurried behind him. Clearly it didn’t occur to him to allow her to take lead, despite the fact he looked close to total collapse.
Typical.
He’d rather fall flat on his face than admit he needed a woman’s help.
She had always suspected that testosterone sucked any common sense from the male brain.
Entering the cramped chamber carved in the dirt, Harley paused to take in her surroundings. Not an overwhelming task. There was nothing more than a pile of stones in one corner, and across the room, an opening that revealed some roughly carved stairs.
She had, however, heard Caine speak of his various spiderweb of tunnels, and she knew there was more here than met the eye.
“The stairs,” Salvatore muttered, heading toward the opening.
“Hold on.”
His expression tightened with a weary impatience. “Harley.”
“Caine always keeps stashes hidden, in case of a hasty exit,” she said, moving to the loosely piled stones. Her kick held considerably less impact that Salvatore’s, but it was enough to send the rocks flying to reveal a pile of objects that had been hidden beneath them. “See?”
Moving to her side, Salvatore reached to pluck the two loaded handguns off the ground, surprisingly shoving one into her hand before tucking the other into his waistband at his lower back.
The large ivory-handled dagger disappeared into a holster beneath his tattered pant leg, but he appeared far more interested in the tiny silver medallions that were half-buried beneath the dirt.
Most people would dismiss them as pieces of junk. A stupid mistake.