“He won’t hurt me,” she ridiculously tried to convince them. “He only wants to protect me.”
“I’m sorry, Cassandra, more sorry than I can say, but he isn’t trying to protect you,” Salvatore said, lifting the gun. “He doesn’t even recognize you. He’s too far gone.”
Her eyes widened, the scent of her agitation making Caine howl in fury. “You’re wrong,” she hissed, her hands lifted in a pleading motion. “I reached him.”
Salvatore shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
“Not for his mate.”
Styx heard the King of Weres suck in a startled breath. “Mate?”
“He . . . no.” The prophet waved a frantic hand as Salvatore took a step forward when the feral beast wrapped a clawed hand around her arm. “Stay back.”
“Cassandra, it doesn’t matter.” Salvatore slowly continued forward, his gun aimed at the center of Caine’s chest. “I have to get you out of there.”
Cassandra winced as the beast dug his claws into her arm, his glowing gaze watching Salvatore with a growing fury, but still she tried to keep her body between her approaching king and the creature who had once been her mate.
“Listen to me. We’re connected,” she said in desperate tones. “He’s part of my family now.”
The words had barely left her lips when Caine thrust her behind his large body. The rough shove sent the much smaller female sailing through the air, her head hitting the lead wall with a sickening thud.
“Shit,” Styx rasped, watching Cassandra crumple to the ground before he turned to glare at the Were standing silently at his side. “What are you waiting for?”
A muscle in Salvatore’s jaw knotted, as if he were battling back his wolf. “She said family,” he replied, his voice harsh.
“So what?” Styx snapped, his attention shifting to the beast, who was pacing as far as the silver chains would allow him, his fangs bared in warning. The only good thing in this most recent debacle was that he seemed to have forgotten the unconscious woman behind him. “She’s desperate to save her mate. She would say anything to prevent the inevitable.”
“Sí. Her mate.”
Assuming that the King of Weres was regretting the need to sacrifice one of his pack, even if he had more than once desired Caine’s death, Styx held out a hand. “Salvatore, allow me to deal with this.”
“No.” The Were shook his head. “They weren’t mated before.”
Styx grimaced. “She completed the mating even knowing his madness is irreversible? Foolish female.”
“Not foolish,” Salvatore said in low tones, turning to meet Styx’s frustrated gaze. “Actually, she’s been very, very clever.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t reach Caine because he was transformed into a pureblood by the demon lord. He’d never been a part of a pack.”
Styx didn’t know the ins and outs of the mangy mutt society, but Salvatore’s words made sense. “And now?”
“Now he’s bound to Cassandra.”
Styx glanced toward the unconscious female. “But wasn’t she raised in isolation with the demon lord?”
“She was.”
“So she isn’t a part of a pack either.”
“Her connection was formed in the womb with her sisters, as well as through her mother, Sophia, to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“That there’s a chance I can call him back.”
Their gazes clashed, a silent battle between Salvatore’s grim determination and Styx’s fierce refusal to endanger the prophet.
At last, Styx reached to pluck the gun from Salvatore’s hand, conceding with ill grace to the Were’s need to try and salvage his newest pack mate. “Here, give me that.”
Salvatore narrowed his gaze in warning. “Styx.”
“You concentrate on doing your thing and I’ll make sure the rabid wolf doesn’t kill us all.”
Salvatore arched a brow. “Doing my thing?”
“Just get on with it.”
Convinced that Styx wasn’t going to go Tony Montana the minute his attention was diverted, Salvatore turned back toward the crazed beast and lifted a hand.
At first, nothing seemed to happen.
Caine continued his frantic pacing, his eyes wild with his desire to sink his massive teeth into the two male intruders. Styx lifted the gun, willing to give Salvatore a chance to reach the rabid dog, but only as long as the creature didn’t so much as glance in Cassandra’s direction.
The minutes ticked past, Salvatore’s hand still raised and the air beginning to heat with his power. Then the King of Weres was abruptly striding forward, his wolf so thick in the air that Styx could taste fur on his tongue.
Caine tossed back his head, howling beneath the force of Salvatore’s will. Salvatore never faltered, reaching up to grasp the creature’s chin and force him to meet his ruthless gaze.
Styx hissed. The crazy-assed King of Weres was going to get himself killed. Something he wouldn’t tolerate.
Not when he’d promised himself the pleasure.
Placing his finger on the trigger, he aimed between Caine’s eyes. But before he could fire there was a sudden flurry of magic surrounding the one-time cur. At the same time, Salvatore fell heavily to his knees, his head bent in exhaustion.
“Shit.” Shoving the gun back into the holster at his lower back, Styx darted forward to grasp Salvatore by the shoulders and towed him away from the shower of sparks that were swirling around Caine. Then, halting in the doorway, he watched as the sparks died away to reveal that Caine’s mutated form had been altered into his wolf form.
The beast that came to Styx’s chest gave himself a shake before he lowered his head to study the unconscious woman at his feet. Styx tensed, but the animal gave a low whine, gently nuzzling her cheek.
“Amazing,” Styx muttered. “I think it worked.”
Rising to his feet, Salvatore ran a weary hand over his face. “Sí.”
“Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any happier.”
Salvatore snorted as the large wolf stepped out of the manacles that no longer held him captive and bared his teeth, clearly prepared to pounce.
“How happy would you be to have two males near your unconscious mate?”
“Fair enough, but you can’t leave her in there with him.”
“No, but only Cassandra can calm his beast.”
“So the only one who can call off the enraged wolf is the unconscious woman?” Styx rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
Ignoring Styx, the King of Weres once again raised his hand, pointing a finger at the motionless prophet.
“Cassandra,” he commanded, his voice echoing through the small cell. “Cassandra, open your eyes.”
Cassie was perfectly comfortable as she floated in a state of unconsciousness.
Why not? Here in the darkness there were no cares, no worries, and best of all, no bothersome visions.
Well, there was that nagging voice that kept calling her name, she ruefully conceded, wishing it would go away. Of course it didn’t. In fact, it became so compelling that it wrenched her out of her soothing cocoon with a merciless jerk.
Vaguely realizing she was lying on a hard floor, she lifted her head, only to give a low moan. Crap. It felt like someone was trying to drive a spike through her brain. “Ow,” she breathed.
“Cassandra.” The damn voice refused to leave her in peace. “Can you hear me?”
“Please, do you have to shout?” she complained, her hand lifting to the large bump on her temple. “My head is killing me.”
“That’s because it was recently smacked into the wall,” a familiar voice informed her.
Salvatore.
Yes, he was the aggravating pest who kept interfering in her attempt to return to the darkness. And he was saying that her head hurt because she’d smacked it into the wall.
Odd.
“Why would I—”
Cassie gave a small gasp as her memories rushed back with shattering force.
Caine.
Shaking off the lingering fog in her brain, she surged to her knees and sent a frantic glance toward the looming presence she could feel beside her.
“Oh.” A lump formed in her throat, her heart nearly shattering at the sight of the large wolf standing protectively in front of her. She’d hoped her mad plan would work, of course. She’d even prayed. But she hadn’t believed. Not really, truly believed. Now she burst into tears as she threw her arms around Caine’s neck and buried her face in his thick fur. “Caine. Caine.”
She didn’t know how long she wept, lost in the tidal wave of relief. At last it was the sound of Salvatore clearing his throat that brought her head up to meet his golden gaze.
“Cassandra, I rejoice in your reunion, but we need to get you out of here.”
She leaned her head against Caine’s neck, her fingers stroking through his fur. The rich scent of his musk wrapped around her, seeping into her skin. “You reached him.”