Her emerald eyes flashed, and Jagr could sense the wolf in her snarling in fury.
“You tell me to trust you, and this is where you bring me?” she hissed. “If I wanted to have my life threatened by a dirt-bag demon, I could have stayed in Hannibal.”
His arm tightened around her waist in a silent warning. “Little one, you’re only making this more complicated.”
“And?”
“And it would save a great deal of trouble if you would allow me to speak with Tane in private.”
“So, I’m just supposed to stand here twiddling my thumbs while you parlay with Jack Sparrow?”
Tane’s dark laugh floated on the breeze. “You could join me in my lair and twiddle my…”
“Enough, Tane,” Jagr growled in warning.
Regan muttered a foul curse. “I really, really don’t like this guy.”
Pressing a brief kiss to her lips, Jagr released his hold on her tense body and turned. He needed Regan in the safety of a lair. The sooner the better.
“Stay here and trust me,” he murmured, flowing toward the nearby building and waiting vampire.
“Someday, Jagr, I swear to God I’m going to…”
His lips twitched at her furious tirade, but wisely his attention swiftly moved to the assassin who waited on the wide terrace.
Approaching the steps, Jagr was brought to a sudden halt as a silver-tipped spear suddenly struck the ground a mere inch from the toe of his boot.
“That’s close enough.”
Jagr allowed his fangs to lengthen, his power dropping the temperature. Tane was a powerful vampire who’d been trained by Styx’s Ravens, but Jagr wasn’t feared by demons far and wide because of his less-than-sparkling personality.
“I’m not your enemy, Tane.”
“Neither are you my friend.” Allowing his shadows to drop, Tane stepped into a wash of silver moonlight.
Although smaller in bulk than Jagr, the vampire was smoothly muscular, with the golden skin of his Polynesian ancestors, his thick black hair shaved on the sides into a long Mohawk he braided to hang past his shoulders. His face was as lean and hard as the rest of him, with faintly slanted eyes the precise color of warm honey. Wearing nothing more than a pair of khaki shorts, Tane folded his arms over his bare chest and regarded Jagr with suspicion.
“What are you doing here? The last I heard you were in Chicago, cloistered in your lair and shunning your clan.”
“I don’t shun them,” Jagr denied with a grim smile. “It’s more a mutual agreement that I shouldn’t bother to join the clan bowling league.”
Tane’s short, startled laugh did nothing to ease the menace thickening the air.
“Hardly a surprise. You never did play well with others, Jagr.”
“No, but I serve the Anasso when I’m called.”
“Don’t we all?”
“Yes, which is why I have come to you.” Jagr casually plucked the spear from the ground. “I assume you honor your pledge to Styx?”
“I’ll decide if assisting you is included in my duty to the Anasso or not.”
It was the best Jagr could hope for, and with stark precision, he revealed his purpose in coming to Hannibal and the events leading to seeking out this private lair.
Tane listened in silence, his gaze shifting toward Regan, who paced a small patch of ground, muttering her opinion of arrogant, ill-mannered, bloodsucking leeches.
“A Were that doesn’t shift?”
“Yes.”
“The miracles of modern medicine.”
Jagr was quite willing to believe that Regan was a miracle, but not because of any modern medicine.
“The genetic alterations might have halted Regan’s ability to shift, but she possesses most of a Were’s skills, and more than her fair share of a Were’s nasty temper.”
Tane turned back to study Jagr with a taunting smile. “And she’s twin to Styx’s mate?”
“One of four.”
“I thought Styx must have been crazed with his grief at the loss of the previous Anasso when I learned he bound himself to a Were, but now I begin to understand his obsession. She’s…”
“Off limits,” Jagr interrupted, the spear snapping in two as his fist clenched.
Tane tested the air, his smile widening. “You haven’t claimed her.”
Jagr tossed the broken weapon aside, not bothering to hide the possessive fury that whipped through the air.
“That won’t stop me from ripping off your head if you so much as touch her.”
Tane narrowed his eyes. “Threatening my life isn’t going to get you any favors.”
“No, but it will avoid any nasty misunderstandings.”
Proving that he wasn’t easily intimidated, Tane stepped forward. “Is Styx aware of your fascination with his sister-mate?”
“Styx is only concerned with her safety.”
“While you’re only concerned with keeping her away from her family and in your power?”
Jagr jerked at the smooth taunt. “Careful, Tane.”
“Why haven’t you taken her to Chicago?”
“I have allowed her to remain in Hannibal because she won’t be satisfied until she’s killed the imp,” he growled, refusing to consider the accusation he might be deliberately postponing the moment he would have to turn Regan over to the protection of her family. “If I force her to Chicago, she’ll only escape at the first opportunity and take off on her own. The demon-world might not survive the havoc she’d wreak before I could track her down again.”
“And the Anasso has agreed to this plan?”
“He requested that I deal with Regan, and that’s what I’m doing,” Jagr snapped, angered by the mere thought the Anasso had any say over Regan. A dangerous, perhaps fatal, sensation. “Now, will you help us or not?”
There was a beat as Tane weighed the pleasure of battling a vampire with Jagr’s skill against the certain punishment of interfering in the Anasso’s business. At last he shrugged.
“Get your woman and follow me.”
Chapter 11
Regan wasn’t happy as she allowed Jagr to lead her into the crumbling building.
Maybe it had something to do with the stench of rotting mattresses that had been piled into what once had been a front lobby. Or the plaster that crumbled from the ceiling as they headed down the narrow flight of stairs to a basement that, frankly, was creepy as hell.
The small, cramped rooms they passed by, as well as the broken canes and walkers shoved in a storage room, pointed toward an abandoned old folks’ home, but whatever charm it once might have claimed had long ago faded into oblivion.
Or maybe it had something to do with the large, edgy vampire who led them through the moldy darkness.
Oh, Tane was melt-worthy.
He was all smooth, golden planes, and honey eyes.
Yummy tropical heat in a pair of low-riding khaki shorts.
But the wolf in her wasn’t fooled by Tane’s promise of paradise. Like Jagr, the vampire carried the potent scent of danger. Unlike Jagr, however, Tane didn’t try to disguise his lethal threat behind a wall of ice.
No, his menace was as blatant as a flashing neon sign.
Moving through what looked like an empty laundry room, Tane halted to shove aside a heavy metal rack, revealing a narrow opening in the wall.
Regan swallowed a sigh as she followed in his wake, more resigned than surprised to discover the stairs that led deep underground. Vampires were nothing if not predictable in their love for the dark and dank.
Battling to keep her bulky bags from tangling her legs as she negotiated the steep steps and then the long passageway that ran beneath the surrounding fields, Regan only vaguely noticed when the tunnel transformed from dirt to stainless steel.
It was only when Tane slid open a heavy door blocking the path that she realized there was nothing dark or dank about the hidden lair.
Wide-eyed, she took in the banks of high-tech equipment that lined the long room. There
were monitors with live feeds of at least a dozen cameras spread throughout the nearby countryside, sleek computers keeping track of God-only-knew what, and complex, sophisticated machines that Regan didn’t even recognize.
“Holy crap,” she breathed, instinctively edging closer to Jagr as the two large vampires scanning the complicated equipment sent her an impatient scowl. Even for a vampire, the over-the-top security system seemed a little paranoid. “Do you have a space shuttle tucked in a nearby cornfield?”
Tane glanced over his shoulder as he continued through a far door that led to yet another steel lined passage.
“I have many things tucked in the cornfields. I’ll be happy to show them to you once we get my elderly brother settled into his bed.”
“Tane,” Jagr growled, predictably rising to the bait.
The taunting vampire turned down yet another corridor, making Regan wonder just how extensive the tunnels were.
“She is yet unclaimed, and I’m as capable as you to offer her protection. Actually it would appear I’m more capable since it’s my lair keeping her safe.”
Regan rolled her eyes. Not again.
“You know, I thought Culligan was a jackass because he was an imp. Turns out that the whole jackass thing comes with being a male,” she drawled in overly sweet tones. “Now let me make one thing perfectly clear…” She shared her annoyed glare between the two vampires. “I don’t need to be protected by Dumb or Dumber. I can take care of myself.”
Halting next to a door set in the steel wall, Tane turned to regard Jagr with an unexpected amusement.
“You’re right, Jagr, her temper is foul.”
Regan hissed in annoyance. “Oh, it can get a whole lot worse than foul.”
“She isn’t exaggerating,” Jagr added, the half smile playing about his lips. “Wise demons tremble when her wolf is on the prowl.”
She clutched her bags to her chest. “Are you done?”
The two men shared a glance that would make any woman consider the pleasure of ridding the world of males, but wisely Tane shifted to open the door, waving a hand for them to enter the room beyond.
Regan stepped over the threshold, flipping the switch on the wall. It wasn’t that she needed the soft light that spilled through the room, but it helped dismiss the sensation of being trapped underground.
She moved forward, then halted in shock. Good…Lord. It looked like it had been decorated by Hugh Hefner on crack.
Her brows lifted as she studied the rich crimson wallpaper and framed pictures of naked women. The ceiling was painted with satyrs in full arousal, dancing in the shimmering light of the large chandeliers. Even worse, there wasn’t a stick of furniture, but instead a dozen large pillows spread over the acres of ivory carpeting, and an honest-to-God whirlpool humming and splashing in the center of the room.
“This is my guest apartment,” Tane said from the doorway, the mocking amusement in his voice revealing he was thoroughly enjoying her appalled expression. “You should find what you need. However, if you decide to leave, don’t stray from the path I’ve shown you. There are any number of nasty surprises for the uninvited.”
Jagr gently tugged the bags of clothing from her stiff fingers, tossing them into a corner along with his own leather satchel.
“Speaking of uninvited, the Anasso sent his pet gargoyle to be a very persistent pain in my side,” he warned Tane. “If he makes an appearance, you might want to avoid killing him.”
“I’ve heard rumors of the creature.”
“Rumors can’t prepare you for the real thing,” Jagr said dryly.
Tane made a sound of disgust. “I will allow him to perch on the roof if he can behave himself, but if he tries to invade my lair I make no promises.”
Jagr shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Appearing remarkably unconcerned, Tane stepped back into the corridor. “I have business to attend to, but my guards will remain on duty. You won’t be disturbed.”
Without warning, Jagr offered a bow of his head. “I’m in your debt, Tane.”
“Yes, you are. Someday I’ll collect.”
His warning delivered, Tane shut the door, enclosing Regan and Jagr alone in the gaudy apartment.
For a minute, Regan simply enjoyed the absence of Tane’s unnerving presence, but eventually the realization she was completely alone with Jagr, in a place custom-built for sex, made her…twitchy.
With jerky steps, she moved across the ivory carpet, peeking into the compact kitchen with its expensive appliances before moving through the connecting door to the bedroom beyond.
Not her smartest decision.
She’d barely switched on the light when Jagr slipped past her, his brows lifting as he prowled toward the round bed draped in black satin that was reflected in the mirrors above it.
It was like one big bachelor pad cliché.
Her cheeks burned with a ridiculous heat. “I can’t imagine why Tane would need guest chambers. Who the hell would want to visit?”
Jagr tugged open a drawer of the lacquer nightstand. “Unlike you, little one, most women find Tane inexplicably charming. Even among vampires, his reputation is that of a…”
“Hound?”
“Not the word I was looking for, but it’ll do.” Jagr plucked a pair of handcuffs from the drawer and dangled them from his finger. “Well, well.”
“Good grief.” She frowned as he studied her with an expectant expression. “Don’t even think about it.”
His soft, almost tangible chuckle feathered over her skin. “I don’t need toys to please a woman. Of course…”
“I’ve seen enough.”
Spinning on her heel, Regan marched into the kitchen, her back ramrod straight, even as all sorts of delicious sensations fluttered in the pit of her stomach.
No, Jagr most certainly didn’t need toys.
Not when his touch was pure magic.
Only a step behind her, Jagr moved toward the built-in refrigerator and tugged open the side freezer.
“You should eat something. Do you have a preference?”
Refusing to reveal her childish unease, Regan moved directly to his side and peered into the freezer. Her mouth instantly watered at the sight of the neatly stacked packages from some of the most famous restaurants in the world.
Chicago style pizza…New Orleans gumbo…Kansas City barbeque…Maine lobster…
“Everything,” she muttered, reaching to pluck a few of the top boxes from the freezer and handing them to Jagr to defrost in the microwave. “Tane at least knows how to feed his guests.”
In a remarkably short amount of time, the small glass dining table was overflowing with pizza, bread sticks, minestrone soup, and a warm apple tart.
Taking a seat, Regan didn’t even try to pretend she was one of those ridiculously skinny women she watched on TV. Why the hell would she starve herself to please some man?
Savoring the delicious food that had nothing in common with the cheap frozen dinners that Culligan used to feed her, Regan at last realized that Jagr was leaning against the counter watching her with an unwavering intensity.
“What about you?” she demanded, wiping her mouth with a linen napkin. “Aren’t you hungry?”
His brooding gaze slid down to the curve of her neck. “Not for what’s currently on the menu.”
Desire, sharp and biting, clenched her body as Regan surged to her feet and began tossing the empty containers into the trash can. Oh, man. She didn’t want to think about how her skin suddenly seemed way too tight for her body, or how her heart was pounding against her chest, or the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.
She wanted…
Okay, that pretty much summed it up.
She wanted. She wanted bad.
“How often do you need to feed?” she demanded, her mushy brain unable to come up with anything better as a distraction.
“It depends on whether I’m wounded, or if I’ve gone without feeding for an extended period of time,” he murmured,
his voice low and husky. “It also depends on the potency of the blood. A Were’s blood is prized for its rare power. Unfortunately, they prefer not to share with vampires.”
Her Were blood abruptly warmed as it flowed through her veins, as if already anticipating the erotic tug of his fangs.
She instinctively bristled at the troublesome sensations. “Maybe that’s because the vamps have nearly made them extinct by keeping them caged in cramped hunting grounds that have stolen their ancient abilities.”
“Did you drink Salvatore’s Kool-Aid?” he demanded, coolly.
It took a moment for her to realize he was accusing her of being brainwashed.
“No, but he’s very convincing that the vamps are at least partially to blame for the lack of pureblood children.”
Jagr flowed forward, easily sensing her rising desire despite her best attempts to appear indifferent.
“His grievance has been brought to the Oracles,” he murmured, halting close enough for her to be wrapped in the cool wash of his power. “They will determine the ultimate fate of the Weres.”
Her mouth went dry as her gaze was ruthlessly drawn to all those muscles rippling beneath his too-tight T-shirt. Christ. She should be given a medal for not having him down on the kitchen floor to have her way with him.
“I don’t care how powerful the Oracles are, I won’t be fenced into some sort of Were reservation,” she muttered, referring to the years that the American Weres had been forced to live on land designated by the vampires.
Not that her thoughts were actually focused on the ancient feud between the two species. No, she was far more interested in the temptation of running her fingers through the long, golden hair.
Jagr seemed just as distracted, his eyes warming to a deep blue as his hand lifted to stroke down the curve of her throat.
“The hunting grounds were created as much for the protection of the Weres as for the humans,” he said, his fingers wrecking a path of distraction as they followed the plunging neckline of her shirt. “Without a strong leader, the curs were out of control and attracting far too much attention. The demon-world was preparing for genocide before the previous Anasso stepped in and created the necessary boundaries. If Salvatore can prove he’s capable of taking command of his people, then the Oracles will no doubt step aside and allow him to rule without interference.”
Darkness Unleashed Page 14