“You covered me in your scent to scare off other men?”

He skimmed his fingers back down to her wrist, unable to pretend even a token of regret. If he had his way, Harley would be carrying his scent for the rest of eternity.

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Bullshit.”

He shifted until he was pressed against her hip, able to feel her searing heat through the comforter.

“Harley, as much as I hate to admit it, there are a few forces beyond my ability to control.” He brushed his finger over the lush curve of her lips. “Besides, the scent will fade in time.”

Her glower remained, but the gold flecks in her hazel eyes shimmered with potent awareness. Salvatore was instantly erect and ready to please.

“You’re certain?”

“So long as you don’t complete the mating bond or haul me back to your bed.”

“It just disappears?”

His gaze drifted down to the pulse hammering at the base of her throat.

“Si.”

“And I’m no longer your mate?”

“You will always be my mate, cara.” He bent forward, his lips touching that fluttering pulse with a stark yearning. “For all eternity. Nothing can change that.”

Chapter Fourteen

For a crazed, breathless moment Harley melted beneath Salvatore’s experienced touch. She was beyond denying that she wanted this Were with a hunger that was on the wrong side of obsessive. Even after three first-rate, heart-stopping orgasms, her body was ready to go for number four.

Her mind, however, was in stunned mode.

God Almighty.

Was Salvatore completely nuts?

The mere thought she could be his mate took insanity to a whole new level. Not only were true matings nothing more than an urban legend, but they barely knew one another.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. A liquid ache between her legs reminded her that they knew each other intimately. But mind-blowing sex didn’t equal soul mates.

So why wasn’t she laughing it off as a bad joke? Or sympathizing with his obvious descent into raving lunacy?

This thundering panic implied an emotional reaction she wasn’t prepared to admit.

Not even to herself.

With a sharp motion, she pushed off the bed, keeping the damp towel wrapped around her shivering body. In silence she paced from one end of the black-and-gold room to the other, intensely aware of Salvatore’s searing gaze following her every move.

At last he rose to his feet and crossed to stand directly in her path, his body gloriously naked and his expression somber.

“Harley?”

She jerked up her head to meet his brooding gaze. “You can’t just assume I’m your mate because I smell like you,” she abruptly informed him. “I mean, the past few days have been crazy. This could all be nothing more than stress.”

“Male Weres produce musk only when in the presence of their mates,” he said. “But it’s more than just the change in my scent. I knew you were my mate the moment we met.”

“How?”

“Here.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest, directly over the steady beat of his heart. “You’re stealing my powers. Along with most of my sanity.”

She eyed him warily, wondering if this was all some bizarre joke.

“I believe the sanity thing, but I don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about with your powers. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know how to steal them.”

A wry smile curved his lips, but the golden eyes remained watchful, closely monitoring her reaction.

“You don’t have to do anything but be yourself, cara. It’s the nature of the mating bond to weaken the male.”

Harley abruptly recalled Salvatore’s unexpected bouts of weakness during their flight from Caine. And his obvious weariness after being attacked by Briggs.

At the time, she’d put it down to the endless battles and the silver that had been lodged in his shoulder…

Now her heart slowly squeezed at the realization that if Salvatore was actually telling the truth, she’d been responsible for the chinks in his considerable armor. For God’s sake, she could have gotten him killed without even knowing it.

“What kind of stupid tradition is that?” she muttered sourly. “Haven’t the Weres heard of the Darwin theory? Males should get stronger, not weaker, when they have a mate.”

A dangerous smile curved his lips as his hands grabbed the top edge of her towel and yanked her against him.

“It’s to keep him from taking his mate by force,” he growled, his eyes darkening with a slumberous invitation. “The female must be willing or the bond can’t be completed.”

She studied his lean, beautiful face, searching for some sign of resentment. Surely he had to be pissed at having his powers hijacked?

If he was, he hid it well. At the moment there was nothing but a blazing hunger that smacked into her with delicious force.

Suddenly she was acutely aware of his fingers that curled beneath the towel and branded the upper curve of her breasts. The hard, ruthless lines of his bronzed body. His intoxicating musk that seeped through her skin and flowed through her blood.

With an effort, Harley held onto a thin strand of sanity.

Dammit, Salvatore was being stalked by a crazed psychopathic Were and a pack of crazed curs with regicide on their minds. He should be concentrating on staying alive.

“And once she agrees to the mating, his strength returns?” she demanded.

He lowered his head to trail his lips over her temple, the satin curtain of his hair brushing her cheek.

“It returns even greater than before.” His mouth traced the line of her brow. “There’s also a legend that ancient mated pairs were once capable of sharing their powers, so they were all but invincible.”

The heat shimmered through her body, the potent force weakening her knees. Instinctively she grabbed for his shoulders, her nails digging into his rigid muscles. He growled in approval.

Dammit, he wasn’t going to distract her.

This was too important.

“So how does the female complete this mating bond?”

He teased at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know.”

She pulled back to glare at him. “How can you not know?”

“It’s not a ritual the female performs. She doesn’t dance around a bonfire or sacrifice small animals.” His lips curled in a smile filled with wicked promise. “Of course, if you wanted to dance around the bonfire naked…”

“Salvatore.”

He heaved a sigh, his hands shifting to frame her face, his gaze stabbing deep into her wide eyes.

“Either the female accepts the male, or she rejects him. It’s as mystical and unexplainable as falling in love.”

“And if she doesn’t accept him?”

“Then he’ll devote the rest of eternity to changing her mind.” With a powerful motion, Salvatore swept her off her feet and headed to the bed. Harley’s stomach clenched at the focused intent engraved on his face. “Like this.”

“Wait,” she breathed, her voice already thick with a pulsing need. “Your powers…”

The golden glow of his eyes spilled through the room. “Are ready and willing to please you.”

“I’m serious, Salvatore. You can’t go against Briggs while you’re weakened,” she protested, her breath tangling in her lungs as she landed spread-eagle on the mattress, Salvatore covering her with his heavily aroused body.

“Harley, the last thing I want to think about right now is Briggs.”

“This conversation isn’t over…”

He slid into her with one smooth thrust, and not only was the conversation over, but so was all rational thought.

Wrapping her legs around his hips, Harley closed her eyes in exquisite pleasure, settling for communicating in a more primitive language.

Harley hadn’t intended to fall asleep. One minute she’d been floating on a cloud of postcoital bliss and the next she’d been snuggling into Salvatore’s arms and drifting into unconsciousness.

She didn’t know how long she’d been out when she was awakened by Salvatore whispering in her ear.

“Harley.”

“Hmmmm?”

“Harley, I need you get out of bed and dressed as quickly as you can.”

It was the tension vibrating in his voice that had Harley’s eyes snapping open with sudden alarm.

“Are the vampires here?”

Salvatore eased from the bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. “No.”

Harley shook off her lingering glow and crawled out of bed to pull on her own clothes, shoving her fingers through her hair before fastening it back with a scrunchie. No one wanted to face trouble naked.

“What is it?”

Salvatore absently slipped on a black satin shirt, leaving it open as he sat on the edge of the bed and shoved his feet into a pair of black biker boots. A far cry from his tailored Gucci suit, but still sexy as hell.

Lifting his head, he revealed a grim expression. “Briggs.”

Harley’s blood ran cold. “He’s here?”