Styx shrugged. "Then the lovely Ms. Smith remains my captive."
"We are no longer your dogs, Styx." Salvatore curled his lip with disdain. "We will not be bound by your laws or chained like animals."
Styx narrowed his gaze. He could smell the smoldering anger in the pureblood, but the wolf maintained a firm control over his instincts. A rare ability for a Were and one that marked him as a dangerous adversary.
"This is hardly the place to negotiate the rights and privileges of Weres," Styx said, his fangs lengthening in warning. "And I will offer you a small warning, Salvatore. I don't like ultimatums. The next time you issue one I will personally hunt you down and execute you."
The wolf never flinched. "Not without reprisals."
Styx gave a soft hiss as he allowed his power to swirl through the alley. It was obvious this new King of Wolves needed a reminder of the dangers in crossing wills with a vampire.
"I have called for a meeting of the Commission. If they arrive before I decide to kill you, then I will await their approval." He lifted his hand, sending the power toward the looming werewolf. "Otherwise I will simply issue a heartfelt regret that I was forced to act before they could arrive."
Salvatore staggered to his knees before grimly forcing himself back to his feet. His eyes glowed in the darkness, but his hands were steady as he smoothed the silk jacket.
"Am I supposed to be frightened?"
"That, of course, is your decision."
There was a low, awful howl from the roof as the cur at Salvatore's side abruptly shifted. The large man with a bald head and bulging muscles twisted into a towering beast with a thick mat of black fur and lethal claws. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he lifted his muzzle to the sky.
The dagger was in Styx's hand even as Salvatore turned and, with a negligent motion, he backhanded the cur. There was a startled yip as the Were was knocked across the roof and nearly tumbled onto the pavement on the opposite side.
Styx gave a lift of his brow as Salvatore turned his back on the cur and returned his attention to the vampire below. Clearly a leader who believed in a "spare the rod, spoil the werewolf" philosophy.
"Give me the woman and I will consider... negotiations," Salvatore conceded in a smooth tone, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Styx kept the dagger in his hand, ready to strike. This was a pureblood that only a fool would underestimate.
Besides, the arrogant command to hand over Darcy made him want to sink his fangs into the damnable wolf.
"Ms. Smith will not be released until you have agreed to return to your traditional hunting grounds and to halt your attack upon humans. Only then can we discuss your complaints."
Not surprisingly, the Were gave a short, humorless laugh at the uncompromising demand. Styx expected nothing less.
"If you won't give me the woman I will take her."
A werewolf with a death wish.
His favorite kind.
He smiled. "You're welcome to try."
"Arrogant son of a bitch."
"Why is this woman so important to you?"
Even at a distance Styx could sense the sudden wariness in Salvatore. It was a question he didn't want to answer.
"Why does any man want a woman?"
"You wish me to believe that you have tracked this woman—a woman you had not even met until last night—for weeks just because you desire her?"
He shrugged. "Most men are fools when it comes to matters of the heart."
Styx narrowed his gaze. "No."
"No?"