He wasn’t about to make a fool of himself by prancing around looking like a damned female while lurking in the wine cellar of the King of Weres. He did have some pride left. But, of course, the witch had instantly done her wireless communication with the Dark Lord and Gaius discovered himself on his knees, agreeing to travel to St. Louis and pose as Harley.

He didn’t, however, agree to like it.

“Her mysterious source could be mistaken,” he pointed out in biting tones. “Or hoping to keep us here long enough to become lambs to the slaughter.”

“Ingrid knows what she’s doing.” Dolf sent a glance that was far too intimate toward his sister. Creepy. “She came up with the plan to trick Caine into coming to this wine cellar, didn’t she?”

“So she did.” Gaius shifted his attention toward the female cur who leaned against the shelves of wine, her muscular arms folded over her chest. “You’re certain he will come to this cellar instead of calling as you demanded?”

Ingrid shrugged. “Caine is pathologically suspicious, which makes it almost impossible to ambush him. We have to convince him that he’s actually avoiding the trap while we nudge him where we want him to go.”

“You’re assuming that he watches the video you sent and then ignores your demands to call despite the threat to his queen.” Gaius impatiently brushed back his long blond hair, which was proving to be a constant nuisance. Cristo, he would be relieved when this stupid charade was done and he could return to his true form. “And that he recognizes this wine cellar.”

The cur smiled. “Trust me.”

Gaius hissed in disgust. “Never.”

Chapter 6

Salvatore’s lair in St. Louis

Caine left the Jeep parked several miles away from Salvatore’s lair, located in a northern suburb of the city. Then, leading Cassie along the edge of the large lake surrounded by brick mansions set like fine jewels among the manicured lawns and formal gardens, he came to a halt behind a boathouse.

It was late enough that the neighborhood was shrouded in a slumbering darkness, but his night vision easily allowed him to scour his surroundings for any sign of danger. Not that there was any to be found.

He dismissed the incubus currently fulfilling the fantasy of a neglected housewife and the nest of harpies who were hidden on the small island in the middle of the lake. They posed no threat to a pureblooded Were.

Far from reassured, he studied the vast three-story home perched on a hill that overlooked the lake. The back walls, which were made almost entirely of glass, were partly obscured by a large veranda framed by marble columns. Trellised gardens descended the length of the steep slope, coming to a halt at the edge of a stone grotto that not only served as a perfect picnic spot, but a lookout for Salvatore’s guards.

Guards that should have been on duty.

So where the hell were they?

He was still searching for an answer when he felt Cassie crouch beside him, her wide gaze trained on the mansion above them.

“Good Lord,” she breathed. “That’s Harley’s house?”

“One of them.”

“It’s very large.”

His lips twisted at the understatement. The place was big enough to lodge a small country. “If you like it I could have one built for you.”

She shuddered. “No, I spent too many years in soulless caverns to feel comfortable in such a place,” she said. “I prefer your home.”

He reached to give her hand a light squeeze. “Our home,” he corrected.

“Yes.” Her dimples made a brief appearance. “Our home.”

Satisfaction seared through him and with a small groan, Caine tugged her close enough to claim her lips in an urgent kiss. Our sounded amazingly perfect.

Then, with a curse, he forced himself to pull away. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted. No matter what the temptation.

Even if this wasn’t a trap, he knew that Salvatore had a bounty out on his head. If the king’s pack caught scent of them he would never shake them off their trail.

“Do you sense anything?” he asked, returning his attention to the seemingly abandoned house.

She tilted back her head, sniffing the air. “No.”

“Neither do I.”

She grimaced. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?

“Salvatore would never have left Harley completely alone,” he muttered. “If she was kidnapped, his pack should be swarming through the neighborhood searching for her.”

Cassie shrugged. “Maybe they don’t know she’s missing.”

“Then they should at least be guarding the house.”

“You think it’s a trap?”

His jaw tightened. “Absolutely.”

She blinked at his blunt honesty. “Then shouldn’t we be somewhere that isn’t here?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him in confusion. “Caine?”

He heaved a sigh. His every instinct screamed to toss Cassie over his shoulder and rush away from Salvatore’s lair at top speed. The very air whispered a warning.

But he’d spent enough time with Cassie to know that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she was certain that Harley had been rescued and was safely back in the hands of her mate.

“Shit,” he muttered. “What?”

“If I’m going to pick up Ingrid’s scent I have to get closer.”

Without hesitation she pushed herself to her feet, as always completely fearless.

“Then let’s go.”

“Wait.” He straightened, taking her hands in a warning grip. “I want your promise that you won’t leave my side. Not even for a second.”

Cassie hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. “I’ll try,” she at last conceded.

“Cassie.”

“That’s all I can promise.”

His lips twisted as he met her candid gaze. “I suppose it is.”

He grasped her hand and led her along the lakeshore, ignoring the stone steps leading to the house. Cassie fell into step beside him, a puzzled frown marring her brow.

“Where are we going?”

Caine led her past the boat dock and at last halted at a line of Dumpsters near the gravel service road. “The entrance to the secret tunnel is hidden inside the Dumpster.”

“Clever,” Cassie said, only to slap a hand over her nose and mouth as Caine broke the lock and threw back the lid on the green metal bin set slightly away from the others. “And pungent,” she muttered, taking an instinctive step backward. “Yow.”

Prepared for the spell of revulsion, Caine ignored the foul smell billowing from the Dumpster as well as the magical “push” to turn and walk away. “It keeps demons from sniffing close enough to discover the entrance,” he said, vaulting into the bin and holding out his hand.

“A very effective deterrent,” Cassie gagged out, reluctantly taking his hand and climbing into the Dumpster.

Once they were both through the barrier the spell abruptly vanished to reveal a scrupulously clean container with a trapdoor cut into the metal bottom. Caine bent down, sliding his fingers along the outline of the door until he found the hidden lever. With a faint click the door abruptly swung downward to reveal a tunnel dug into the ground.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed Cassie’s hand and tucked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. “Hold on and don’t let go,” he commanded.

She wrinkled her nose. “Bossy.”

“No. Terrified.”

Without giving her time to reply, Caine dropped into the tunnel, landing on the cement floor with Cassie descending lightly behind him.

He paused, searching the darkness with his heightened senses. There was . . . nothing.

No lurking enemies.

No waiting traps.

And no scent of curs.

He growled in frustration. “Ingrid didn’t come in or out of the tunnel.”

“Then we have to go on,” Cassie whispered softly. “We know she was in the wine cellar. We can pick up her scent there.”

He shot a glance over his shoulder, meeting her stubborn glare. “And what if this is a trap?”

She managed to look even more stubborn.

Stubboner.

Was that a word? If not, it should be.

“I’m not leaving until we find the trail leading to my sister.”

He turned to move down the tunnel, muttering beneath his breath. Man, it had to be the greatest cosmic joke ever. Fate had given him his deepest desire and transformed him into a pureblood Were only to punish him with the constant pressure of keeping the most endangered creature in the entire world safe.

He was supposed to be enjoying a carefree existence at the top of the food chain, surrounded by his adoring harem and collecting hordes of ill-gotten gains. Hadn’t that been his fantasy?

Certainly, it hadn’t been creeping through the dark, tormented by the fear that he was somehow going to fail the female who’d become an essential part of his life.

Fingers tightened on his waistband, and his bout of self-pity was forgotten as the scent of warm female and lavender wrapped around him.