Fear the Darkness

“Please,” she begged. “No.”



Abruptly releasing his hold, he allowed Sally to drop to the ground. Her ridiculous pigtails bobbed around her face, which was painted with black liner and lipstick, as she straightened, wiping the blood from her neck.



“Then make yourself useful and bring me the seer,” he snapped.



“Are you mental?”



Gaius watched the witch’s fear of him being replaced by a flare of panic at being ordered to wade into the gory battle.



“Even if I could get past her rabid protector, which I couldn’t, she’s a pureblooded Were.”



“She can’t shift.”



“She can still rip me in half.”



He leaned down until they were nose to nose, his power making her flinch. “So can I.”



“Crap. I should have just let my mother kill me,” she muttered. “She, at least, intended to make it quick.”



Clenching her hands at her sides, Sally grudgingly made her way across the floor, abruptly jumping sideways when a bloody Ingrid went sailing past her to slam into the wine barrels and lay unconscious.



Gaius shook his head. Things weren’t going well.



Not that he was particularly surprised. He’d suspected from the beginning that the curs’ confidence that they could defeat a pureblooded Were was more a product of their mutual arrogance than genuine skill.



But he’d at least hoped they could disable Caine long enough that he could get his hands on the prophet and disappear from the cellar.



Now Ingrid was down and out for the count. Dolf was pinned to the ground with the Were’s fangs clamped in a death lock on his throat.



And the witch was trying to wriggle her way into the narrow cell with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner headed to the gallows.



The temptation to simply walk away from the unfolding fiasco screamed through him. He could return to his lair and pretend he’d never been near St. Louis. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be certain that Caine and Cassandra would do him the service of actually killing the Three Bumbling Amigos. And if one survived, they were bound to squeal to the Dark Lord.



Then . . .



He shuddered, unwilling to imagine what might happen. No. He couldn’t run. But he was still too weak to battle an enraged pureblooded Were. So now what?



Lost in his dark broodings, he was caught off guard when Sally gave a sudden war cry. Or he assumed that’s what it was supposed to be. To be honest, it sounded like a bad imitation of Tarzan.



Gaius watched in disbelief as the witch darted toward the female Were and grabbed her by the ponytail, giving it a violent tug.



Had she gone mad?



Clearly as baffled as him, the prophet shoved the female away with more confusion than actual fear. Her protector, however, didn’t give a shit what Sally was trying to do and, after giving the unconscious Dolf a toss to land on top of Ingrid, Caine turned his lethal attention to the witch.



Sally screeched as he snapped his bloody fangs directly at her face, and she charged out of the cell with a speed that was considerably faster than the pace she used going in.



Nothing quite like having a Were trying to bite off your head to offer a bounce to your step.



Heading directly toward him, she waved a closed fist in the air. “Get us out of here.”



He scowled, silently hoping that the rabid Were managed to strike the killing blow.



Of course, he couldn’t be so lucky.



Clearly wounded, the animal refused to give in to his bloodlust. Instead, he remained in the doorway, resolutely protecting his companion rather than yielding to his primitive instincts.



Bastardo.



Cursing in resignation, Gaius moved to stand beside the mangled curs who were neatly piled next to the shelf. Then, wrapping his fingers around the medallion that hung from a chain around his neck, he waited only long enough for Sally to reach his side before muttering a word of power and surrounding them in mist.



A spectacular fuck-up from start to finish.



Caine had a vivid memory of his battle with the two curs. The taste of their blood as he’d ripped out chunks of fur and flesh. The sound of their howls of pain. And the scent of their escalating desperation.



But he hadn’t managed to entirely avoid injury. And while none of his wounds were life-threatening, they were all leaking blood at a rate that was rapidly stealing his strength.



Grimly ignoring his increasing weakness, he managed to drive away the human witch before his legs collapsed beneath him. His head hit the cement of the floor with enough force to briefly knock him loopy and when he at last managed to clear the fog, it was to discover he’d shifted back to human form and Cassie was kneeling beside his naked body.



“Caine.” She tenderly brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead. “We have to get out of here.”



“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, but he sensed that most of his wounds had sealed shut during his shift. Unfortunately, it would take time to completely heal. Time he wasn’t sure they had.



“Let me help you,” Cassie murmured, slipping her arm beneath him as he struggled to stand.



“The vampire?” he rasped, his blurry gaze searching the seemingly empty cellar.



“He disappeared.”



Reluctantly allowing Cassie to take the majority of his weight as they stumbled toward the tunnel, he frowned at her vague response. “Which way did he go?”



Her arm snaked around his waist as they entered the tunnel, her lavender warmth wrapping around him. He sucked in the sweet scent, hoping to ease his wolf ’s rabid fury.



It didn’t matter that he logically understood Cassie was unharmed. Or that there didn’t appear to be any immediate danger. The beast inside him wasn’t going to be satisfied until those who dared attack his female were destroyed.



“No, I mean he disappeared, disappeared,” she said. “Poof.”



He frowned. Had the witch managed to befuddle Cassie long enough to make it seem as if they’d disappeared?



“That’s impossible.”



She shrugged. “Then he has made himself and his companions invisible.” She sent him a challenging glance. “Is that more possible?”



“The witch . . . ?”



“No, it was the vampire,” she stubbornly insisted. “He grabbed an amulet that was hanging around his neck and they all vanished.”



Christ. His head throbbed as he tried to accept the nasty leech could not only shape-shift, but could appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.



Just. Freaking. Perfect.



“The entire world has gone mad,” he muttered.



Cassie patted his shoulder. “Yes.”



“Are you humoring me?”



“Yes.”



Caine swallowed a sigh, too weak to conjure the proper outrage. In fact, it was taking everything he had just to put one foot in front of the other.



He clenched his teeth as they slowly made their way to the end of the tunnel, but glancing up at the opening, he was forced to concede defeat. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to leap five feet in the air.



“I can’t get out until I rest,” he grudgingly admitted.



Cassie moved so he could lean against the side of the tunnel, her expression one of calm determination. “I’ll go up first and pull you out.”



He scowled. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”



“Why? Because you’re the male?”



“Exactly.”



She rolled her eyes. “Sexist dog.”



It was an accusation that had never been thrown Caine’s way before. Even when he was a cur he’d preferred women who were strong and independent, with a dangerous edge. Nothing kept a man on his toes like bedding a woman who might rip out your throat if you pissed her off.



But with Cassie . . .



He wanted to become the worse sort of cliché.



He wanted to build a perfect lair where she would be safe and warm and so comfortable she would never leave.



He wanted to hunt for their food and then stand guard, offering protection as she eased her hunger.



He wanted to hold her in his arms as she slept, feeling her soft breath on his neck and her heart beating steadily beneath his hand.



“I like having you depend on me,” he muttered.



She smiled, moving to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Partners depend on each other.”



“Partners,” he breathed, ignoring just how perilously close the word sounded to mates.



Chapter 7



Cassie had learned a great deal about patience over the past three decades.



Being a hostage to a demon lord meant that she’d spent the majority of her life in dank caves. On occasion, she was allowed a television or books to help pass the time, but for the most part she’d had to endure endless days with nothing but her visions to distract her.



Still, it took all of her skill to urge the testy Caine out of the tunnel, using her strength to boost him up and then over the garbage bin. And then, ignoring his snappish complaints that he wasn’t an invalid, she’d managed to wrestle him to the waiting Jeep, loading him into the passenger seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.



Trying to hide the lingering weakness from his injuries, Caine wiped the sweat from his brow and sent her a frustrated glare. “What are you doing?”

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