“I am here, ma belle.” With a delicate flap of his wings, Levet stepped off the edge of the hole and floated down, landing beside Harley with a small bow. “Your magnificent knight in shining armor in all his glory.”
Salvatore rose to his feet, inwardly contemplating the pleasure of roasting the gargoyle over an open fire. The damned demon didn’t have a speck of dust on him, while the rescue had left Salvatore covered in a new layer of filth, his back aching from the fall, and a half dozen silver splinters in his shoulder that were already aching.
“Your glorified head is going to be displayed on Caine’s trophy mantel if you don’t get a move on it,” he rasped.
Levet snorted, assisting Harley to her feet. “As if I fear a flea-bitten cur.”
Striding forward, Salvatore knocked away Levet’s hand and pulled Harley close. His logical mind understood he was being ridiculous. His instincts, however, couldn’t bear for any man to be near this woman.
“Caine’s working with a powerful Were who has tapped into black magic,” he snapped.
Levet’s eyes widened in alarm. “Sacre bleu. What are you waiting for?”
Salvatore shook his head as the demon scurried down the dark tunnel, his tail twitching in agitation. He turned to regard his companion with a somber expression. Who knew what was waiting for them?
“Stay close,” he warned softly.
Her eyes flared in the darkness. “As if I have a choice.”
“You never did,” he said, leaning forward to steal a short, possessive kiss.
Then, grabbing Harley’s hand, he tugged her to him as they strode after the retreating gargoyle.
Salvatore kept their pace slow but steady as they wound their way through the dark tunnel. He wasn’t running headlong from one enemy, only to blunder blindly into the clutches of another.
Not that his reasonable caution was appreciated by his companions.
At his side, Levet muttered French curses and behind him, Harley kept herself occupied by comparing him to several body parts of animals, none of them complimentary.
What was the point in being king if he couldn’t have a little respect?
Gritting his teeth, Salvatore attempted to ignore the silver that remained imbedded in his flesh, making it impossible for him to shift into wolf form. His wounds wouldn’t heal so long as the silver remained.
And worse, it was another drain on his fading strength.
The very thing he didn’t need.
He intended to make Caine and Briggs pay for every moment of this misery.
In blood.
Levet broke off his inventive curses, glancing over his shoulder. “The curs have entered the tunnel.”
Salvatore’s pace never faltered. “They won’t be the only ones.”
“What do you mean?” Harley demanded.
“If Caine has any sense at all, he’ll have sent a few curs overhead to try and cut us off at the exit.”
“So you have effectively trapped us down here?” she accused, her angry tone unable to hide the fear he could sense in the air.
“Of course not,” he smoothly lied, coming to a halt. The mark of any great leader was convincing others you knew what you were doing, even if you didn’t have a clue. Besides, he didn’t want to listen to any more bitching. “Levet, can you cut off our pursuers?”
The gargoyle sniffed. “My talents are boundless.”
“Can you do it without bringing the entire tunnel down on our heads?”
He lifted his tiny hands toward the ceiling. “We shall see.”