“You’re in no condition to be out running around.”
“Ah, you do care.”
“You might have led them here.”
“I wasn’t followed.”
Prowling forward, Salvatore stripped off his tattered jacket and shirt, tossing them on the floor.
Harley instinctively stepped back, although she couldn’t hide the manner in which her gaze lingered on his bare chest.
“What are you doing?”
“I need you to dig out the silver in my shoulder.”
“With what?” She shook her head as Salvatore reached down to pull the dagger from the sheath at his ankle. “No. No way.”
Salvatore plucked the gun from her hand, tossing it on the bed before pressing the hilt of the dagger into her unwilling fingers.
“It has to be done, Harley. I can’t reach them.”
She clenched her jaw, trapped between her desire to condemn him to hell and the knowledge that his injuries wouldn’t heal until the silver was gone.
“Damn.” She pointed toward the chair by the small table. “Sit down.”
Taking his seat, Salvatore waited until Harley was standing rigidly behind him, reaching over his shoulder to grasp her hand and press it to his lips.
“Just the silver, cara.”
She predictably yanked her hand from his touch, but Salvatore didn’t miss the care she took not to jostle his shoulder.
“If I decide to kill you, it won’t be with a knife in the back,” she muttered. “Hold still.”
Bracing his hands against his knees, Salvatore closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Unlike vamps, he didn’t have the ability to go into a healing trance to avoid his injuries. Until he could shift, he had to grin and bear it.
Well, not grin.
It was more of a groan-really-loud and bear it.
Bowing his head, Salvatore clenched his teeth, trying to remember he was a macho king, while Harley sliced through his flesh, searching for the silver shards that had burrowed deep beneath the skin.
Harley cursed beneath her breath as she struggled with a particularly defiant shard.
“Am I hurting you?” she rasped.
“Harley, you’re cutting into my shoulder with a rather large knife,” he pointed out softly.
There was another searing jolt of pain, then blessed relief as the last of the debilitating silver was removed and his natural powers kicked into gear.
“I think that’s it,” she muttered, giving a tiny squeak of alarm as Salvatore surged from the chair and with a burst of energy, shifted into his wolf form.
At any other time, Salvatore would have taken smug pleasure in Harley’s gaze that clung to his large body with unconscious appreciation, perhaps even have done a bit of showing off to prove the strength of his body and the beauty of his thick raven fur.
Now, he sprawled on the carpet and shuddered as he struggled to heal his wounds, feeling as weak as a pup despite the mystical forces that flowed through his blood.
Any preening would have to wait.
A damned shame.