Regan had to remind herself to breathe.
Air in. Air out. Air in. Air out.
“I don’t care who’s in charge as long as they leave me alone.”
His fingers continued to tease and taunt, stroking over the curve of her breasts until her nipples hardened to painful peaks.
“Always supposing that’s possible, what will you do?”
“Enjoy my freedom.”
“It’s more than just freedom.” His hand lifted to cup the nape of her neck, gently messaging her tense muscles. “You’ll have to survive in a world you know very little about.”
She struggled to be annoyed by his patronizing words. Something that would be a hell of a lot easier if she weren’t drowning in a flood of sensuous need.
“I can learn. I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re extraordinarily intelligent.” His lips brushed her temple. “Intelligent enough to know that a lone wolf is the most vulnerable. Why not accept the assistance of those who only want to help you?”
She swallowed a groan of pleasure. Damn, that mouth was wicked.
“My beloved sister? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Darcy is not your only option.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “My lair is well protected, although not nearly as elegant as Styx’s estate.”
Regan stilled. “Jagr?”
“Hmmm?”
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
Jagr hesitated, then with a wary expression, he pulled back to meet her shocked gaze.
“Yes.”
“Have you ever shared your lair before?”
“Not willingly, no.”
“Then why would you offer now?”
His lips twisted. “Couldn’t I just be a good guy with a generous heart?”
“Not flipping likely.” She shook her head, strangely disturbed by his unexpected offer. “What do you get out of this?”
“I wish I knew.”
“What?”
His hand slid from her nape to the curve of her lower back, urging her against his stirring hardness. Regan sucked in a ragged breath as his thick cock pressed into the tender flesh of her stomach.
“I know I want you. Desperately,” he said, a fierce hunger flaring through his eyes. “I know that you fascinate me even when you’re behaving like a lunatic.”
“Hey.”
“What I don’t know is why the thought of watching you walk away is…” He grimaced.
“Is what?”
“Unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable?”
“Completely and utterly unacceptable.”
She licked her lips, unnerved by the stark satisfaction that flared through her heart. Surely she couldn’t be pleased by his blatant claim of possession?
“It’s also inevitable,” she forced herself to mutter. “Once Culligan’s dead, I’m out of here.”
His lips twitched as he shifted to lightly scrape his fangs down the line of her throat.
“We’ll see,” he husked, his clever hands grasping the hem of her shirt to pull it off in one smooth motion. Her bra swiftly followed, fluttering to the ceramic tiles. “I can be very persuasive when I want something.”
She made a choked sound as his thumbs brushed over her straining nipples. Holy…crap.
Persuasive?
He was downright mind-blowing.
Desperately trying to latch onto the reason this was a bad idea (and anything that felt so damned good had to be a bad idea), Regan sucked in a deep breath. Unfortunately, Jagr was one step ahead of her and, before she could form a coherent thought, his mouth was skating over the curve of her breast, closing over the tip, as his tongue teased her to near madness.
“Damn you,” she muttered, her fingers shoving into the tempting silk of his hair. He kissed and nibbled his way down her body, peeling away her remaining clothes between caresses.
“No, not damned,” he countered, straightening to meet her dazed gaze with an unreadable expression. “Redeemed.”
With a motion too swift for Regan to anticipate, Jagr swept her off her feet and was moving through the apartment. She barely managed to realize what was happening when she was tossed in the center of the Austin Powers bed, her arms and legs splayed like a sacrificial virgin.
“Jagr.”
Kicking off his heavy boots, Jagr pulled the T-shirt over his head and dropped his jeans to reveal the breathtaking glory of his male form.
“Yes, little one?” he demanded, lowering to cover her with the cool weight of his body.
She lifted her hands to push him away, only something went wrong. Instead of shoving against the hard planes of his chest, her fingers were stroking over the pale skin so ruthlessly marred by his scars.
“Shouldn’t we be planning what we intend to do next?” she demanded, her voice a husky rasp.
Lowering his head, Jagr nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “I know exactly what I intend to do next.”
An exquisite shudder shook her body. Oh, Lord, she hoped that his intentions included spreading her legs and finishing what he’d started.
Suddenly, she no longer cared that Culligan was out there still alive and breathing…the bastard. Or that there was a pack of demented curs that might or might not be hunting her.
Or even that Jagr’s determined seduction might very well be an elaborate scheme to lure her back to Chicago and into Darcy’s trap.
Sometimes a woman had to have her priorities in order.
And at the moment, Regan’s priority was satisfying the gnawing hunger that threatened to consume her.
As if sensing her capitulation, Jagr growled low in his throat, his hands skimming restlessly over her bare skin as he scattered tiny kisses over her face.
“Sweet midnight jasmine,” he muttered, his tongue outlining her lips. “Your scent drives me mad.”
Regan gave a small squeak as one roaming hand slid between her thighs to stroke through her growing dampness.
“That’s ridiculous,” she protested, breathless. “If I smell of anything, it’s damp cave and horseweeds.”
He crushed her lips in a searing kiss. “Always arguing, little one.” He moaned as his finger slid into her tight flesh. “Is it a compulsive need to keep me at a distance, or are you just quarrelsome by nature?”
Regan instinctively dug her heels into the black silk sheets as she arched her hips upward.
“If you weren’t always wrong, I wouldn’t have to…to…” Oh, Christ, his finger was creating the most delicious friction as he dipped it in and out of her. “To argue.”
His lips brushed over her cheek, then down the line of her jaw. “I’m never wrong.” He pressed a kiss to the pulse racing at the base of her throat. “Never.” His mouth trailed down her collarbone. “Never.” He covered the aching tip of her breast. “Never.”
He wasn’t playing fair. She couldn’t think when her entire body was quivering with a near painful need. She didn’t want to think.
She just wanted to once again feel that glorious release that hovered just out of reach.
Fisting her fingers in his thick hair, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Fine, you’re always right. Now stop talking and do something.”
Pulling back, he regarded her with an almost smile. “Quarrelsome and demanding.”
She deliberately rubbed herself against the granite-hard length of his erection.
“Is that a problem?”
His eyes darkened, his fangs glinting bone white in the light spilling from the living room.
“No problem.” Bracing himself on his elbow, he shifted until the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. “No problem at all.”
She gritted her teeth at his deliberate torture. Innocent or not, her body understood what it needed. And having it so close was making her crazy.
“Then why are you still talking?” she demanded, tugging his hair as he regarded her with an oddly watchful expression.
“You
know, little one, there’s no going back.”
“Jagr, if you don’t get on with it, I’m going to…”
She wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do, and in the end it didn’t matter. With a low hiss, Jagr tilted his hips forward, sliding into her with a slow, relentless thrust.
Shifting her hands, Regan clutched at Jagr’s shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. There wasn’t pain. Even with Jagr’s considerable size, her body readily accommodated his entry. But there was a delicious sense of fullness, and a startling intimacy, that she hadn’t been expecting.
In this moment, she was connected to Jagr. Connected in a way that seemed far more poignant than two bodies simply having sex.
It was…
Her mind instantly shied from pondering the dangerous sensations. No. She didn’t want this to be more than a fleeting pleasure.
“Regan,” he whispered close to her ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just don’t stop,” she muttered, burying her face in the curve of his neck.
“There’s no way in hell I could stop now,” he muttered, withdrawing from her body before pushing back in with a growing urgency. “You are perfect.”
Once again, Regan felt that instinctive urge to argue. She wasn’t perfect. Far from it.
But before she could form the words, he was once again pulling out and thrusting forward with a rhythm that stole her breath. Yes. Oh, yes. This was what her body had longed for in the depths of the night. This was what she needed.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Regan raked her nails down his back, pleased when he growled in pleasure. She dug her nails deeper, rewarded as his lips found hers in a wild, demanding kiss.
His hips rocked faster, his hands tilting her hips upward to meet his deep, steady thrusts.
“Jagr…please,” she muttered against his lips, her body clenched so tightly she felt as if she might shatter.
“Patience, little one.” Dipping his head downward, he teased her aching nipple with his lips and fangs, his hips pumping faster and faster as she arched off the bed to meet him.
Regan’s breath rasped in the silent air, her world narrowing to the point where Jagr’s body surged in and out of her.
She was so close. So exquisitely close.
And then…it happened.
With one last surge he tumbled her over the edge, sending her into a vortex of dizzying bliss.
He swallowed her scream of pleasure with a searing kiss, continuing to pump into her shuddering body until he stiffened with his own release. Then, as he arched beneath the force of his climax, the lewd pictures exploded from the walls and the crystal decanter shattered.
Wrenching open her eyes, she regarded him in astonishment.
“Christ.”
Chapter 12
It’s not easy to vanquish a vampire who was as old as Jagr.
His powers were terrifying, his intelligence formidable, and the sheer force of his will could overcome the most fearsome adversaries.
But there was no getting away from the fact that he had been well and truly brought to his knees by a bad-tempered, unpredictable, aggravatingly beautiful werewolf.
Tucking Regan’s head beneath his chin, Jagr wrapped her tightly in his arms, his gaze ruefully taking in the shards of glass and shattered pictures scattered over the rugs.
He never lost control. Certainly not during sex.
Not that what he’d just shared with Regan was just sex.
It was…hell, he didn’t even have a word for the astonishing sensations that continued to quake through his body.
A vampire would sacrifice everything (clan, sanity, his very soul), to claim such joy.
Unfortunately, Regan wasn’t anxious to have anyone lay claim to her. Especially not an arrogant, overprotective vampire who had the social skills of a bad-tempered cobra.
“Regan…”
His soft words were cut short as Regan slapped her hand over his mouth, shifting so she could glare at him with an unexpected annoyance.
“No.”
So much for the tender, intimate cuddling he’d envisioned.
Peeling her fingers from his lips, Jagr regarded her beautiful face surrounded by the tangle of golden curls. A smug pride stabbed through his heart at the lingering heat that darkened her eyes, and the flush of pleasure she couldn’t disguise. She might never admit she’d found satisfaction in his touch, but it was etched on her face.
“Isn’t it a little late for no?”
“I mean, I don’t want to Dr. Phil what just happened.”
His brows lifted in amusement. “Do I strike you as a Dr. Phil kind of vampire?”
With a sudden motion, she jerked the black sheet over her slender body.
“I just don’t want to discuss it.”
Jagr wryly resisted the urge to press the issue. He might not understand the mysterious workings of the female mind, but he did know his stubborn Were. If she decided she didn’t want to discuss what they’d just shared, then there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“Whatever makes you happy, little one.” Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, Jagr slid from the bed and pulled on a silk robe Tane had left draped over a nearby chair. “Do you have Culligan’s safe?”
Regan pressed herself to a seated position, ridiculously keeping the sheet wrapped around her. As if he hadn’t kissed every delectable inch of her body.
“It’s in my bags. Why?”
“For the moment it’s the only connection we have to Culligan.”
Returning to the living room, Jagr gathered Regan’s precious bags along with his own satchel, then returning to the bedroom he tossed the bags on the bed and searched until he discovered the small safe tucked among her clothes.
Regan frowned. “You think we might have overlooked something?”
Jagr turned the safe in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth metal. “Imps are notoriously paranoid when it comes to their treasures. There has to be at least one hidden compartment we haven’t found.”
“So you’re what? Going to try and play Rubik’s Cube with it?”
“I prefer a more straightforward approach.” With one smooth motion, Jagr ripped off the bottom of the safe.
“You’re a very destructive demon,” she muttered, glancing toward the shattered glass spread across the floor before returning her attention to the smashed safe.
He wisely hid his smile. He’d managed to slip past her fierce defenses, to stir her most intimate yearnings. Now she was desperate to push him away.
“But effective.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Reaching into the gaping hole, Jagr pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it into her lap.
“I think I’ve made my point.”
She rolled her eyes, ripping open the envelope. “Fake IDs…credit cards…” She paused as she unfolded a piece of paper. “Ah, now this is interesting.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a message…”
The Clemens Tea Shop. Saturday. Midnight.
Her head lifted, her eyes wide. “Culligan left St. Louis on Saturday.”
“I remember seeing a sign for the place. It’s a restaurant west of town.”
“This might explain what brought Culligan to Hannibal.”
“It’s worth investigating,” Jagr slowly agreed.
“Yes, it is.” She scooted toward the edge of the bed. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
His brows drew together. “Now?”
“Of course now.”
“Regan, we can’t be certain we weren’t followed.”
“For God’s sakes, your Jason Bourne wannabe friend has half of Missouri wired like the Pentagon. If there was anything out there, he would already have vaporized them with his ray gun.”
His scowl deepened. He couldn’t deny that Tane had gone above and beyond the usual defenses. Or that he would have easily discovered any stray cur in the area.
He couldn’t e
ven argue the necessity of discovering who had sent the message to Culligan.
But his every instinct screamed to keep her safely tucked in the lair where nothing could reach her.
Almost as if sensing the refusal that trembled on his lips, Regan scooted off the bed, grabbing one of the bags and scurrying toward the bathroom. Jagr had only a brief glimpse of her tasty backside before the door shut behind her and he heard the sound of the shower kick on.
Left alone in the bedroom, Jagr wrenched off the robe and tugged on a pair of jeans and black sweater he pulled from his satchel. A lesser vampire might be offended by her desperate desire to pretend she hadn’t just given him her innocence. Or her embarrassing haste to chase after shadows rather than linger alone with him in the secluded lair.
Thankfully he wasn’t a lesser vampire.
Just one who was suddenly in the mood to finish destroying the porn-chic pictures that lined the walls.
Braiding his hair, Jagr tied it off with a leather cord and tugged on his heavy boots. His weapons followed. The two daggers he slid into the sheaths in his boots, and the handgun he shoved into his waistband at the small of his back. The silver bullets would come in handy if they ran across a cur.
Then, desperate to ignore the tantalizing scent of soap and sweet jasmine filling the air, he returned to the kitchen and drained a bottle of the blood left in the refrigerator. He didn’t particularly need to feed, but he didn’t want to risk his hunger stirring while they were on the hunt.
Even if Regan were willing to donate a vein, he wasn’t a masochist. The aggravating woman was a threat to more than just his sanity.
There was a very real danger Regan could be his true mate.
Cursing a fate that seemed determined to torture him, Jagr stiffened when she appeared in the doorway, her damp hair pulled into a ponytail, her slender curves covered in a pair of low-riding jeans and a too-tight knit top.
Heat, raw and primitive, flared through him. Damn. When he returned to Chicago, he intended to kick Styx’s ass.
The ancient vampire had a great deal to answer for.
Thankfully unaware of his dark thoughts, Regan studied him with a guarded expression.
Darkness Unleashed Page 15
