Salvatore shrugged. He wished she was right. It was easier to accept he’d killed traitors rather than faithful companions who’d been under the compulsion of Briggs.
Unfortunately, he knew his servants too well.
They would carve out their own hearts before betraying him.
“I’m not going to take any chances.”
“But you are taking a chance,” she pointed out. “For all you know, my mind might be under the control of Briggs.”
Salvatore snorted. “You’re too bloody stubborn to be controlled by anyone. Besides, I’ve been with you for hours. I doubt Briggs’s power lasts more than a few minutes.”
She considered his words, absently nibbling on her thumbnail.
“I suppose it would explain Caine’s ridiculous belief he had some sort of vision,” she conceded.
“I’d say his outsized ego has as much to do with his visions as Briggs’s,” he muttered.
She ignored his sour opinion of the cur. “It seems risky to expose vampires to a magic-mad Were.”
“The vamps are impervious to mind control. Unfortunately, it’s too close to dawn for them to travel. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to meet up with them.” He patted the mattress. “For now we rest.”
She licked her lips, abruptly appearing more disturbed by joining him on the bed than his confession that Briggs could control minds.
“Fine. You rest and I’ll keep watch,” she croaked.
“I already did a sweep. No one knows that we’re here.”
“You can’t be sure…” She sucked in a startled breath as Salvatore slid off the bed, and with fluid speed, had moved to snatch her off her feet. “Dammit, put me down.”
“With pleasure.”
With two long strides he was tossing her onto the bed and swiftly covering her with his body. A violent pleasure surged through him at the feel of her slender curves that fit perfectly against him.
Dio.
He didn’t know if it was the mating bond that made him react with such raw, biting hunger to this particular female, or if it was simply a normal reaction between a man and woman, and in truth, he didn’t care.
He wanted her.
Now.
Salvatore watched the hazel eyes darken as Harley reacted to the prickling heat that filled the air, able to hear the sudden leap of her heart.
“Get off me,” she gritted, clearly not as pleased as Salvatore by their explosive response to one another.
“We’re staying in this bed, Harley,” he warned. “It’s up to you whether we sleep, or enjoy a more pleasurable pastime.”
Chapter Eight
Harley wrenched her gaze from the molten gold of his eyes, feeling as if she were slowly melting beneath the potent heat of his desire.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She was in a cheap motel, on the run because she’d been stupid enough to allow her curiosity to overcome her common sense, and in bed with a king she had been taught to fear and loathe for the past thirty years.
She should be kicking some serious Were butt, not battling the urge to sink her hands in that thick raven hair so she could tug his head down and kiss him senseless.
Of course, in her defense, the man was obscenely beautiful.