“I recognize these,” he said, gathering the medallions in his hand, a smile of satisfaction curving his lips.
Harley shrugged. “Amulets.”
He tilted one of the amulets to display the odd symbol etched into the thin metal.
“Caine’s cur pack used these to hide from me while they were in Hannibal.”
Abruptly, Harley realized that Salvatore’s scent had disappeared. Completely and utterly.
“Holy shit.”
“Here.” He pressed an amulet into her hand. “Keep it on you.”
She absently tucked the amulet into her sports bra, unnerved that Caine had possessed such a powerful tool that he’d never bothered to share with her.
But why should she be surprised? Caine had never been subtle in his obsession to keep her from slipping away from his control.
This amulet would have offered her the opportunity to escape without fear.
“No wonder Caine keeps so many witches on his payroll,” she gritted, annoyed that she’d been so easily fooled.
“I thought he took them to his bed.”
“Fringe benefits.” She shrugged. “Or at least they seem to think so.”
The golden gaze studied her with an unwavering intensity. “But not you?”
“I’m not interested in being the flavor of the month.” She met his gaze squarely. “For any man.”
Without warning, he leaned forward to brush a possessive kiss across her lips.
“Good.”
Harley shot upright, frowning at the jolt of pleasure that raced through her.
“I don’t need your approval.”
Chuckling at her unmistakable blush, Salvatore grasped her hand and tugged her toward the stairs.
“Let’s go, sunshine.”
With Salvatore’s luck running from bad to extremely shitty, it was nothing less than a shock when the stairs led to a narrow exit that was well hidden and cur-free.
Not that he lingered long enough to appreciate his unexpected stroke of fortune.
Keeping a steady pace, Salvatore ignored the fact that St. Louis was less than an hour away, along with a strong Were pack that he could call on to protect him. Instead, he headed directly north, toward the far more distant Chicago and the damned leeches.
Harley’s expression was puzzled as they ran past the fields and dark farmhouses, but for once she kept her opinion of his leadership abilities to herself. Or perhaps she simply concluded that Caine was more likely to start his search on the roads leading south.
In either case, Salvatore was relieved not to have to fight with the female. In his current state, he wasn’t at all certain he could win.
Devoting the majority of his attention to making sure that nothing leaped at them from the cornfields and thick patches of trees, Salvatore wearily tripped over a fallen log that was hidden by the thick weeds.
“Enough,” Harley snapped, an odd anger in her voice as he smoothly regained his balance and turned to meet her glittering gaze. “We have to find someplace to rest.”
He regarded her in a thoughtful silence. Was she concerned for him?
“There’s a town just beyond the hill.”
“A town?” Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Caine could have spies anywhere, and we don’t exactly blend in.”
“Then we’ll be careful not to be seen.” Taking her hand, he pulled her through the field and up the gentle swell that overlooked the small town. “There.”
He could feel Harley’s tension increasing as they neared the outskirts of the sleeping town, reaching a near panicked level as they traveled through the handful of blocks that made up the business district. Salvatore kept a firm grip on her hand as he headed straight toward the L-shaped motel that promised cable TV and Internet access.
He was too close to the promise of a hot bath and clean sheets to risk having to spend the rest of the night chasing his high-strung companion.
Carefully testing the air, Salvatore rounded the back of the motel, halting at the door nearest the end of the building. There were only a few guests occupying the various rooms, and all of them were human.
“We can’t check into a motel like this,” Harley hissed, tugging her hand free to indicate his filthy, unkempt appearance. “They’ll call the police.”
Salvatore smiled, moving forward to turn the knob, easily breaking the lock and shoving open the door.
“I have my own check-in system.”
Not nearly as impressed by his ability to find them shelter as she should have been, Harley stepped through the door and flipped on the light. Following behind her, Salvatore grimaced.
Okay, maybe he couldn’t expect her to be excessively impressed.
Perhaps not even slightly.
The room was larger than those in newer hotels, with a bed on one side and a pair of chairs and small table set beneath the window on the other. But the cheap furnishings had long ago given up the battle against shabbiness, and the turquoise paint was peeling off the wall. And the carpet…
Salvatore shuddered.
He moved across the room to peer into the bathroom, prepared for the chipped shower and vanity in a nasty shade of salamander.
Moving to his side, Harley wrapped her arm around her waist, her expression tense.
“What if the manager rents out this room?”
“Highly doubtful at this hour, even if there was anyone desperate enough to stop here.” He slid a challenging glance in her direction. “Do you want a shower or not?”
“And what are you going to be doing?”
He smiled. “Making myself useful.”
“Forget it.”
“Take your shower, cara,” he murmured, stealing a swift kiss before pressing her into the bathroom. “I’m in no condition to scrub your back. At least not with the attention to detail that I prefer.”
Her eyes narrowed, her expression defiant. “I’m locking the door.”
“I insist, and keep that gun where you can use it,” he murmured, pulling the door shut and waiting for her muttered curse and the lock to be slammed into place before turning to head out of the motel room and into the night.
A weary smile curved his lips as he moved silently through the shadows, heading toward the stores that had closed hours before.
He was on the run from a Were who should have died centuries ago, he had no idea what had happened to his servants, he had no money, no cell phone, and the silver digging into his shoulder felt like ragged shards of lava, but there was no mistaking the raw, primitive satisfaction that burned through his blood.
Finding Harley completed him.
It was that simple and yet, that insanely complex.
And it was nothing less than a miracle.
Halting at the back of a dress shop, Salvatore easily dealt with the cheap lock, using his powers to turn off the alarm system. Collecting a few plastic bags, he moved through the darkness to fill them with a change of clothing for Harley and himself, as well as a nightgown that Harley would no doubt insist upon wearing.
He hesitated a moment over the delicate lingerie, ruefully choosing a sports bra and matching undies rather than the silky thongs. Harley would choke him in his sleep with the thong if he brought it back to the motel.
Perhaps someday…
He paused long enough to empty out the cash register, making a mental note to reimburse the owner. Not that he particularly cared about a human’s business. But if Darcy discovered he’d stolen from the shop, she would pester him for weeks about his corrupted karma. And unfortunately, he might need the tenderhearted Were to convince Harley that he wasn’t some rabid monster who was plotting to kill her.
Leaving the dress shop, Salvatore made a stop at the small deli to scoop up several packaged sandwiches and bags of chips before making a final sweep of the neighborhood and returning to the motel room.
Careful to close the door and slide the bolt, Salvatore turned and…
“Dio,” he breathed, staring at Harley as she stood in the middle of the hotel room.
Her wet hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the amulet dangled on a thin strip of material she’d ripped from a washcloth and tied around her neck, she wore nothing more than a towel she’d wrapped around her still damp body, and the gun was held in one hand with a casual expertise.
She should have looked ridiculous.
Instead, Salvatore felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut as he met the hazel eyes that flashed with a smoldering fury.
She was sexy, and dangerous as hell.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, her hand tightening on the gun. As if she was considering the pleasure of shooting him.
He reached down to grasp the bags and piled them onto the bed, clever enough to hide his smile of satisfaction at her annoyance.
“We needed supplies,” he smoothly explained.
“And what if you’d stumbled across one of Caine’s pack? Or that Briggs?”
He turned to meet her scowl. “Were you worried for me, Harley?”
She stiffened, not about to admit the truth.
“You’re in no condition to be out running around.”
“Ah, you do care.”
“You might have led them here.”
