Darkness Unleashed (12 page)

“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.”

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…”

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 even 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.

“Shouldn’t you get rid of the mess in the bedroom?”

Jagr shrugged, turning to head for the door leading out of the apartment. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the intense pleasure that had caused his power to shatter Tane’s repulsive works of art. Not when he needed his few remaining brain cells to make sure he didn’t lead them into yet another disaster.

“Tane’s servants can toss it into the trash. That’s where the junk belonged in the first place,” he muttered, opening the door and waiting for her to step past him before closing it and heading down the narrow hallway.

She walked at his side, her dry glance her only reaction to his surly mood.

“So you don’t have your own lair decorated with
Hustler
rejects?”

“I haven’t bothered decorating at all.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“It didn’t seem necessary.” Coming to an abrupt halt, Jagr cupped her face and stole a swift, frustrated kiss. Lifting his head, he met her startled gaze. “Until now.”

Her lips parted with a scathing remark, but before she could catch her breath, he was stepping into Command Central and speaking to the dark-haired vampire on guard.

“We need transportation.”

The warrior with his dark hair shaved close to his head, and his large body covered with a variety of weapons, rose to his feet, clearly under orders to offer Jagr whatever he needed.

“Follow me.”

Wryly wondering what Tane would demand in repayment for his hospitality, Jagr followed the vampire across the room.

Waiting for the servant to push open a narrow door, he wasn’t surprised to discover the vast underground garage that held a half dozen gleaming cars. Many vampires possessed a fascination with expensive automobiles. Regan, on the other hand, sucked in a shocked breath.

“Jeez. No Batmobile?”

“It’s having its tires rotated.” He led her across the paved garage toward a shadowed corner.

Her hand reached out to stroke over the elegant curves of a silver Mercedes they passed.

“I wonder if Salvatore needs a Were assassin. I could use a pay grade that’s obviously in the Donald Trump territory.”

Jagr bristled. Salvatore might not be willing to take Regan as his queen, but he was more than interested in taking her to his bed. Jagr would see the king in hell first.

“There’s no need for Salvatore. The Anasso would willingly offer you whatever luxury you want.” His lips twisted. “I can promise you that his pay grade is much higher than Donald Trump.”

“I don’t need the Anasso’s charity.” She jerked her arm from his grasp. “Or the strings attached.”

“No, you’d much rather cut off your nose to spite your face,” he growled, ignoring her glare as he stopped next to a battered red truck. “This should do.”

“This?” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you kidding me? There’s a Lamborghini, a Porsche, an Aston Martin, and two Corvettes just begging to go for a drive, and you want to take this piece of junk?”

Opening the passenger side door, he eyed her with a lift of his brows. “I prefer not to attract any unwanted attention. How many Lamborghinis have you seen in Hannibal?”

“Fine.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Then why don’t we just go back the way we came? I’d rather run than be jolted around in this thing.”

“The curs won’t be looking for a red truck,” he pointed out. “And we might need it if either of us is injured.”

“Killjoy,” she muttered, grudgingly grabbing the handle of the door to vault into the high cab.

“So I’ve been told.”

Jagr waited until she was settled on the worn leather seat before closing the door and rounding the front of the truck to take his place behind the wheel. Ignoring the key in the ignition, he used his powers to start the powerful engine and headed toward the tunnel that led out of the underground complex.

They exited the tunnel in the middle of a thick tangle of trees and underbrush that hid the opening from prying eyes. Or at least from human eyes. Regan possessed enough wolf to spot the numerous cameras concealed among the branches, and the occasional vampire that slid through the dark shadows.

“Crap.” Her gaze lingered on the heat detectors hidden in a clump of wild daisies. “What happens if someone accidentally stumbles into this little Area 51?”

Jagr shrugged. “They’re removed and their memories altered.”

“Just like the other Area 51.”

His lips twitched. “Not quite.”

He took the narrow path through the surrounding fields, keeping the lights off until they reached a paved road heading south. Then ignoring any claim to intelligence, he gunned the engine and they hurtled their way toward Hannibal.

For long minutes they traveled in silence, Jagr brooding on his plunge into insanity and Regan watching the passing scenery with an odd sort of curiosity.

At last, Jagr chalked up his peculiar behavior to the onset of dementia and allowed his attention to return to the woman at his side.

“You’re frighteningly quiet. Are you plotting general mayhem, or just my own demise?”

“I’m enjoying the scenery.”

His gaze lingered on the fields that would eventually be planted with corn and soy beans and the occasional patch of sorghum. The recently tilled fields were no doubt a lovely sight for the local farmers, but hardly one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

“The scenery?”

Her lips curved into a wistful smile. “Culligan used to drive through the back roads when we traveled from town to town. I always envied the humans tucked safely in their beds with no idea of the monsters lurking in the dark.”

Jagr grimaced. He didn’t have a memory of his time as a human, but the rumors of his brutal rampages were legendary. There hadn’t been many tears shed when he’d mysteriously disappeared.

“Humans are not without their own share of monsters.”

“Maybe not, but the countryside always seems so peaceful. Especially at night.”

“Obviously you haven’t read
In Cold Blood
.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true city vamp.”

“I haven’t always lived in cities, you know,” he drawled. “I’ve spent centuries hidden in lairs so remote I had to travel hours to feed.”

“Centuries of solitude?” She sucked in a deep breath. “It sounds like heaven.”

“At times.” He slowed the truck as he turned to study the smooth perfection of her profile. “There are also times when it’s lonely and tedious and frightening.”

She turned to catch his intense gaze. “Frightening?”

“Without a connection to the world, it becomes far too easy to question the purpose in continuing to exist.”

Even in the darkness he had no trouble seeing the shock, and something that might have been horror, that rippled over her face.

“Did you…?”

“If I hadn’t discovered a passion for my research, I would not have struggled against the lure of ending it all,” he readily confessed. “It’s a temptation that all immortals must battle.”

Without warning, she shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist as if warding off a sudden chill.