Darkness Unleashed

by Alexandra Ivy

  It was not the fact that it was easily defensible, or that there was a ready supply of fresh water, however, that made the cave seemed like a paradise, Jagr decided.

  It was the armful of warm Were he had tucked close to his body as he lay on the hard floor.

  Leaning on his elbow, Jagr studied Regan’s finely carved features. In sleep they appeared even more unbearably fragile. Her skin was a flawless ivory stretched over the perfectly formed brow and tiny nose. Her lips were lush, when not tightened with anger, and her lashes a thick curtain as they lay against her cheeks.

  So lovely.

  So breathtaking.

  And so terrifying in her ability to fascinate him.

  Jagr shook his head. He’d lived for centuries. Beautiful women had drifted in and out of his life with predictable regularity. But none had possessed the golden innocence of her soul. An innocence that the tortured darkness in him craved. As if her purity could soothe away the festering shadows.

  And of course, there was the fierce, relentless courage that had allowed her to survive her years of torture.

  Culligan had wounded her, but he had never broken her.

  He was one of the few who could truly appreciate what it had cost her.

  She was completely and utterly unique. A creature like no other he had ever encountered.

  A strange hint of warning whispered to his heart. An instinctive awareness that his behavior since arriving in Hannibal was…uncharacteristic. The grim control and cool logic that had ruled him for centuries was being undermined by the tiny, ferocious Were currently snuggled against him.

  He wasn’t sure whether he should be furious or terrified.

  Certainly he shouldn’t have been…smug. As if he’d found a treasure that he hadn’t expected and didn’t even know he desired.

  Perhaps sensing his inner conflict, Regan stirred against his chest. Jagr tightened his grip.

  They had barely arrived at the cave when Regan had collapsed in exhaustion. For all her power and stubborn determination, she’d pushed herself too hard for too long and her body had simply shut down.

  Without hesitation, Jagr had carried her to the back of the cave, placing her against the wall and lying down so he was between her unconscious form and the distant entrance. Nothing would be allowed to get to her without coming through him first.

  At the time he’d told himself it was for her protection. He had made a pledge to keep her safe, and by the gods, that’s what he would do.

  But no matter how he tried to twist logic, he knew it wasn’t a mere need to protect that led him to tenderly cradle her in his arms, or to awaken well before sunset just so he could study her pale, perfect face.

  With a flutter, she lifted her thick tangle of lashes, revealing the emerald eyes that were still clouded by sleep.

  There was a moment as she struggled to recall why she was lying in a strange cave in the arms of a vampire, a renegade hint of sensual awareness darkening her gaze before reality crashed through her fog, and she was angrily shoving her hands against his chest.

  “What the hell…let me go.”

  Jagr was caught off guard by the force of her blow, nearly losing his grip before he could roll on top of her and use his considerable weight to control her attempts to escape.

  Her strength had returned with a vengeance.

  Along with her temper.

  A pity, since he could think of far better means of passing the next few minutes than fighting with the beautiful Were.

  Ignoring the stirring of his body, Jagr met Regan’s furious glare with a stoic determination.

  “Not until the sun has completely set. I won’t allow you to leave the cave until I can accompany you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “You let me sleep the entire day?”

  “Your mind is too strong. I can’t control your sleep patterns. You were obviously in need of the rest.”

  “Dammit.” She wriggled beneath him. Jagr swallowed a groan at the delicious friction. “Let me go. Culligan could be miles away by now.”

  It took his endless years of self-discipline and restraint to ignore the firm, deliciously female body beneath him. For now his biting need was secondary to keeping Regan safe.

  Something he couldn’t ensure if she bolted from the cave and into the lingering sunset.

  “Then a few minutes won’t matter,” he pointed out with the cool tones that seemed to set Regan’s teeth on edge. So long as she was contemplating the best means to stick a stake in his heart, she wasn’t plotting the means to escape him.

  Predictably her face flushed with fury. “I’ll never forgive my sister for inflicting you on me. I bet she sent you to get you out of her…”

  Before he could leash the impulse, his head was dipping down to capture her mouth in a silencing kiss. How else could he halt the angry tirade without physical harm? A noble goal that was swiftly undermined by the intoxicating heat that flared through his body.

  This kiss had nothing to do with silencing Regan, and everything to do with the ravenous hunger that flared through him with a painful force.

  He wanted this woman.

  He wanted to stroke his lips over every inch of her pure, ivory skin. He wanted to kiss and lick and nibble over every delectable curve. He wanted to be buried deep inside her as he sank his fangs into her neck and drank of her potent blood.

  More than anything, he wanted to hear those low, husky cries as she reached her climax.

  Her fingers dug into his chest as he deepened the kiss, her lips softening. The scent of arousal bloomed on her skin, lengthening his fangs and making his heavy erection twitch in anticipation.

  This was…right.

  She fit perfectly beneath him, her feminine body soft and yet strong enough to handle an ancient vampire’s passion. Her scent was exactly blended to stir his deepest hungers. And her blood. Hell, his body still trembled with the power from his feeding.

  Shifting his hands, Jagr tangled his fingers in the satin smoothness of her hair, drowning in sensations that were familiar, and yet completely unknown in their intensity.

  After an eternity of hell, this was…paradise. There was no other word.

  He teased at her lips, lightly nipping and stroking before exploring the stubborn line of her jaw. Her nails dug through the thin T-shirt, causing sharp darts of delicious pain, but his senses were too keen to miss the tiny moan of distress that was wrenched from her throat.

  Regan’s body might respond with intoxicating urgency to his touch, but her mind didn’t trust him.

  At this point, he doubted she was capable of trusting anyone.

  Jagr lifted his head to regard her with a cool composure that disguised the frustration howling through his body.

  “I did warn you not to insult my queen,” he murmured.

  Her face was flushed with a combination of embarrassment and anger at having responded so readily to his touch.

  “I wasn’t insulting my sister, I was insulting you.”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “My mistake.”

  She glared at him for a long moment, infuriated at her inability to toss aside his large body and flee as she desired. Then, with obvious effort, she wrapped herself in a brittle dignity.

  “Where’s the gargoyle?”

  Jagr’s smile faded at the mention of the tiny demon. He hadn’t been pleased when he’d returned from disposing of the curs’ bodies to discover Regan and Levet chatting as if they were old friends. He wasn’t certain why he was angered by the sight of the two of them together. Not even a reclusive vampire who spent more time with books than other demons would believe that Regan could be sexually attracted to the ugly little beast.

  It was only now that he could acknowledge the truth. He’d been jealous that the stupid gargoyle had made Regan smile.

  “Still in statue form,” he muttered. “Luckily for him.”

  “He did find us these caves,” she countered, managing to keep her expression aloof, as if she we
re lying on the hard cave floor by choice, rather than being pinned by his heavy body.

  Jagr felt a stirring deep inside him. He’d never encountered a woman with such extraordinary courage.

  “I’m a vampire. There isn’t a cave I can’t sense.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then why did you allow him to come with us?”

  “Because my clansmen have several mates who are pecu-lairly attached to the pest.”

  She blinked, caught off guard by his blunt confession.

  “Surely big bad Jagr is not afraid of a few women?”

  “I’m wise enough to fear a goddess, a Shalott demon, an Oracle, and even a pureblooded Were when she is enraged,” he said dryly, his gaze lowering to the lush temptation of her mouth. “Besides, there are few creatures more dangerous in the world than a woman.”

  “You sound as if you have personal experience. Did some vamp babe break your heart?” she mocked.

  With one fluid motion Jagr was on his feet, his features cold and unreadable. Regan couldn’t know his past, or the female vampire who had tortured him for centuries, but her taunt released the flood of nightmares that never truly left him in peace.

  “It’s nearly dark. Do you need to feed?”

  Regan scrambled to her feet, warily backing away as his icy power swirled through the cave.

  “What I need is a shower and clean clothes.”

  “Very well. Give me a moment.”

  Jagr headed toward the back of the cave, cursing as he caught the scent of Regan’s unease. Dammit, Styx had been a fool to send him after the Were. He was a volatile warrior who was feared by his own brothers, not a nanny. What the hell did he know about wounded, overly proud, vengeance-obsessed women? Jack shit, that’s what.

  So why wasn’t he hauling Regan back to Chicago and washing his hands of the ridiculous situation?

  Bending downward, he unzipped the leather satchel he had brought with him from Chicago.

  He heard Regan impatiently shuffle her feet behind him. “What are you doing?”

  Jagr pulled out two finely crafted silver daggers and tucked them into his boots. There were few things that could best an ancient vampire, but he hadn’t lived so long by being stupid. If there were curs around, there were most certainly Weres. He would need the silver if they were attacked by an entire pack.

  Straightening, he headed for the narrow entrance. “I’m ready.”

  Regan ground her teeth as the vampire disappeared through the entrance of the cave. Did he think she would scurry behind him like a well trained dog?

  Heel, Regan. Sit, Regan. Roll over, Regan.

  Arrogant bloodsucker.

  Wasn’t it enough that he’d pinned her to the floor and kissed her until she’d melted into an embarrassing puddle of willing flesh? And then topped it off by going into his Mr. Freeze act, one that would terrify any rational creature?

  She hadn’t asked for his interference. And she most certainly hadn’t asked for his damned toe-curling, stomach-churning kisses.

  Why wouldn’t he just go back to Chicago and leave her alone?

  Stomping across the cave, Regan slipped through the entrance and charged after Jagr’s retreating form. As much as she wanted to plant a fat wooden stake in his heart, she was smart enough to realize that she wasn’t strong enough to tangle with a vampire. Especially not when that vampire also happened to be a hulking freak of nature like Jagr. Christ, did the vampire tap the veins of steroid junkies?

  No, if she were going to escape her current pain in the ass, it would only be with patience and a constant eye on opportunity.

  It shouldn’t be tough. She had thirty years of practice.

  Muttering curses beneath her breath, Regan lengthened her strides, catching up with Jagr as he reached the bottom of the high bluff.

  “What about Levet?” she demanded.

  “We’d never be so lucky as to lose him. He will find our trail soon enough.”

  “Our trail? Where are we going?”

  Jagr turned his head, his eyes capturing and reflecting the stars that sprinkled the velvet black sky overhead. Regan’s heart gave an odd twist. She’d never seen anything quite so beautiful.

  “You said you wanted a shower and clothes.”

  Her brows shot upward. He’d actually listened to her? And remembered the words that came out of her mouth?

  Unnerved by the realization, Regan turned her attention to the street that lay just beyond the empty parking lot. There were the usual stores expected in a tourist town. Arts and crafts, souvenirs, antiques, a quaint coffee shop and bakery. All charmingly rustic, with large windows to display their wares.

  Jagr led her past them without a word, thankfully missing her wistful gaze that lingered on a pretty necklace. She’d never possessed anything in her life but a few cheap clothes that Culligan tossed through the bars of her cage. Despite being a wolf by nature, she was still a woman at heart, and she couldn’t deny an instinctive urge to browse and gather and…well, frankly just buy a bunch of junk that she could call her own.

  Lost in her thoughts, Regan was caught off guard when Jagr came to an abrupt halt before a red brick building. Barreling into his massive form, she hastily stepped back and glared into his impassive face.

  “Holy crap, warn a girl, why don’t you?”

  A golden brow flicked upward. “Will this do?”

  “Do for what?”

  “Clothing.”

  “Oh.” She licked her suddenly dry lips as she glanced toward the elegant clothes displayed in the large window. “I…I don’t think it’s open.”

  Stepping forward, Jagr pressed his hand against the door. For a moment nothing happened, then with a low squeak, the door swung inward.

  “It is now.”

  “What about the alarms?”

  “They’ve been disarmed.”

  “Security cameras?” He regarded her with that flat stare. At last she threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine, but if you get shot again, I’m not offering a vein,” she muttered, marching forward.

  She had barely reached the door when Jagr wrapped an arm about her waist to haul her against his hard chest, whispering directly into her ear.

  “You didn’t seem to mind while I was feeding.”

  Regan wasn’t sure what infuriated her more. Being manhandled by the brute, or the delicious heat that licked through her body at being manhandled.

  “One more word about that…feeding, and you’re going to get a lot more up close and personal with those daggers you’re carrying,” she hissed.

  His lips brushed over the curve of ear, making her pulse leap and proving his complete lack of fear at her threat. She shuddered as his fangs lightly scraped down the curve of her neck, swallowing a moan as a thousand pinpricks of excitement tingled through her.

  “You can get up close and personal with anything you want, little one,” he murmured, his lips teasing at her skin.

  “Damn you.”

  Wrenching free of his grasp, Regan stormed into the dark interior of the store, heading toward the back racks that held the expensive designer jeans and T-shirts.

  What was wrong with her? Jagr was nothing more than an oversized, over-smug, obnoxiously gorgeous pain in her ass. So why did she keep letting him get under her skin?

  Because she was an idiot.

  Gritting her teeth, Regan forced herself to ignore his large form leaning against the doorjamb watching her every move with that too perceptive gaze. By God, this was her first, and perhaps only, opportunity to actually enjoy what most women took for granted. She’d be damned if the guardian from hell was going to ruin the moment.

  Flicking the hangers around the circular stand, Regan occasionally paused to pull out whatever happened to catch her eye. Any of them would do, of course. The jeans were all faded and looked like they had been put through a meat slicer, while the shirts were cropped to show more than they covered.

  Ah, the wacky world of fashion.

  Still, she couldn’t st
op herself from fingering the various materials and imagining how each would feel against her skin.

  Studying a tiny pink sweater with a metallic star stitched on the front, Regan stiffened as she felt the cool brush of Jagr’s power as he stepped behind her.

  “Do they not have your size?” he demanded.

  Regan deliberately replaced the pink sweater and selected a tiny white T-shirt.

  “Of course they have my size.”

  “Then the clothing isn’t appropriate?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Why do you keep searching?”

  Heaving a sigh, she turned to glare over her shoulder. “Give me a break, will you? I’ve never been shopping before. I want to…savor it.”

  He stilled at her confession. “Never?”

  She shoved the shirt back onto the rack. “In case you missed the news flash, Jagr, Culligan and I weren’t exactly BFF. I was kept locked in a cage for the past thirty years.”

  “You must have been let out on occasion.”

  “Only when the bastard needed me to convince an audience he was a genuine faith healer.”

  Before she could react, Jagr turned her to face him, his features oddly tight.

  “How did you convince them?”

  Regan shifted beneath the intensity of his icy gaze. Dammit, she felt freakish enough without Jagr eyeballing her as if she’d grown a second head.

  “Whenever we reached a town, he would set up a big tent in a field and start handing out flyers.” She ground her teeth until they ached, refusing to acknowledge the brutal pain that twisted her gut at the mere thought of Culligan. She’d made a promise to herself a long time ago: she would never, ever give the damned imp the satisfaction of making her cry. Not one tear. Not ever. Regaining command of her emotions, she met Jagr’s fierce gaze. “Before the show started, he would slice me open with his knife, or break a leg, and I would stumble into the tent he’d set up. Once I had the audience’s attention, he would rush over to put his hands over me and start praying.”

  “And you would heal,” he hissed softly.

  “Right before their very eyes. The humans thought they were watching a miracle. They couldn’t get their wallets out fast enough.” Her lips twisted with disgust. “Chumps.”