Jagr snorted. “Meddling mother hen.”
“At least you know he cares.”
“He could care without sticking his nose in my business.”
Styx flashed his rare smile, revealing fangs that could rip through steel.
“Perhaps, but it would not be nearly so much fun.”
Jagr narrowed his eyes at the deliberate goading, then with effort, he gave a shake of his head.
“No, I will not be distracted,” he warned. “Tell me the truth of why I was sent to Hannibal.”
Styx silently toyed with the medallion that hung about his neck, debating just how much he was willing to share.
“It was in part because of your comfort in moving among humans, as well as your skills as a warrior,” he said, at last.
“And the other part?”
“I knew that you were the one person who would be able to sympathize with what Regan had endured.”
Jagr flinched. “Because I’ve been tortured?”
“Yes,” Styx admitted without apology. “You better than anyone could understand the damage that was done during her years of captivity, and offer patience while she struggled to come to terms with her newfound freedom.” The ancient vampire grimaced. “Although I’ll admit I didn’t anticipate quite so much patience.”
Annoyance at having been needed not for his strength, but for his weakness, stirred Jagr’s temper, adding a sudden chill to the air.
“I beg your pardon?”
Styx blandly ignored the danger prickling in the air. “I assumed you would be eager to be done with your task, and bring Regan directly to Chicago. I didn’t consider the possibility that you would actually encourage her dangerous lust for vengeance.”
“I didn’t encourage her,” Jagr snapped.
“No?”
The air dropped another ten degrees. “She’s young, but she’s capable of making her own decisions. In fact, she insists on it.”
Styx grunted, his expression rueful. “That I believe. Any relation of Darcy is bound to have a mind of her own, and a stubborn streak a mile wide.”
“Stubborn?” Jagr glanced toward the fragile woman curled on the bed. “She’s as obstinate as an emula demon, with the temper of a hellhound.”
“Even more reason to return her to her family,” Styx pointed out.
Jagr snapped his brows together. Damned if he would be chastised as if he were a fledgling demon. He’d done what he thought best for Regan, and he wouldn’t change a thing.
“If you wanted me to treat her as my prisoner, then you should have told me,” he said coldly. “As I recall, I was warned to treat her with kid gloves.”
Perhaps sensing he’d pressed as far as he dared, Styx shrugged. “True enough, and as the famous bard once said, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ So long as there are no unexpected complications, she should be recovered enough to be moved to Chicago by this evening.”
Jagr’s scowl only deepened, his heart feeling as if it were being crushed in a ruthless vise.
So this was it?
This was how it was all to end?
Gods.
“Are you so certain she wants to be moved?” he rasped.
The golden eyes hardened with determination. “It will take two or three days before she is back to full strength. Until then she needs the protection my lair can provide. Besides, Darcy will castrate me if I don’t give her the opportunity to nurse Regan back to health.”
“And Regan might castrate you for forcing her into a family reunion she doesn’t want.”
“It would seem I’m in a no-win situation, not an unusual place for a mated vampire.” Without warning, Styx reached out to place a comforting hand on Jagr’s shoulder. “Do not fear, Jagr, we will take good care of your wounded female.”
Shaking off his companion’s hand, as well as his sympathy, Jagr hid his jagged pain behind a stoic mask.
He’d been alone for centuries.
What were a few more isolated, forlorn, miserable years?
“Have you heard from Salvatore?” He deliberately changed the subject.
“No.” Styx allowed a hint of fang to show. “The damned King of Weres has an annoying habit of forgetting that I’m the Anasso.”
“I can remind him if you’d like.”
The Anasso stilled, his expression unreadable. “You?”
“I may not possess the same hunting skills as your Ravens, but I know Salvatore’s scent. Eventually I’ll stumble over the dog.”
“I don’t doubt your skill, Jagr, but what of Regan?”
His jaw knotted as he ignored the clawing need to keep her at his side.
She was his mate, the woman meant to complete his life.
He would rather have his heart cut out than to allow her to leave without him.
But what choice did he have?
Unless Regan accepted his bond, he had no claim on her.
“You said you’re taking her to Chicago,” he said, his voice as empty as his soul.
Styx frowned. “I assumed you would go with us.”
“Regan has no need of me. Not with you to protect her.”
“She might not be willing to admit her need, but I saw the way that she clung to you when I entered.”
Jagr clenched his fists at the searing memory of Regan snuggled against him.
“Only because she was feeling alone and vulnerable,” he muttered, more to convince himself than Styx. The only thing more painful than disappointment was clinging to futile hope. “If she’d been in her right mind, she never would have turned to me.”
Styx’s sharp laugh echoed through the room. “Bloody hell, I thought I was ignorant when it came to females.”
“Do you have a point?”
“A woman doesn’t cling to a man like that just because she’s lonely.”
Jagr took a stiff step back, swallowing the urge to howl in despair. Damn Styx. If he was trying to rub salt in Jagr’s wounds then he was doing a bang-up job.
“I will not discuss this with you, my lord.”
“Fine.” With a weary motion, Styx rubbed the muscles of his neck, reminding Jagr that the older vampire had endured his own share of wounds. “I would appreciate discovering if Salvatore has learned anything from the cur he is meeting. I have only one request.” His lips twisted. “No, two requests.”
Jagr was wary. Styx’s last request had led him to being mated to a woman who didn’t want him. He really didn’t want any more.
“What are they?”
“The first is that you feed and rest before starting your hunt.”
“And the last?”
“That you take Tane with you.”
His lips thinned, but he readily dipped his head in agreement. The Anasso was merely being cautious.
“As you command.” He took two agonizing steps toward the door before need overcame common sense, and he halted to turn back for one last glance at the woman who would forever be engraved on his heart. “Styx.”
“Yes, my brother?”
“Take care of her.”
Styx pressed his fist over his heart in a solemn pledge. “You have my word.”
Levet was ten feet tall.
Okay, he wasn’t literally ten feet tall. Not even mind-blowing sex could make him grow seven feet in two hours. But by God it went a long way in making him feel that big.
Lying beneath a tangle of bushes, he struggled to wipe the satisfied smile off his lips.
It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman who knew just how to stroke a gargoyle’s horns. Oh, and the things Bella had done to his wings. It made his tail curl just to remember them.
Such a naughty water sprite.
A pity she had disappeared so abruptly. He might have been ridden hard and put up wet, but there was a chance he would recover before the sun crested. And when a demon had to wait centuries between sex, he couldn’t afford to waste a single opportunity.
Debating the odds of finding Bella before dawn, Levet was floating on a delicious cloud of sated pleasure.
Or at least he was floating until the bushes were ruthlessly ripped aside and Salvatore’s angry face was looming over him.
“Levet?”
With a squawk, Levet scrambled to his feet, not at all pleased to have been caught fantasizing like a horny teenager.
“Sacrebleu, did your mother never teach you not to sneak up on a gargoyle? I could have turned you into a steaming pile of dog poop.”
The Were’s lean features were hard with displeasure. Not unusual. The King was always displeased with something or other. Just like a stupid vampire. Only with fur.
“What are you doing skulking in the bushes?”
Levet didn’t hesitate. There was a time for truth and a time for lies.
This was one of those lying times.
“I am keeping watch like you commanded, to make certain this is not a trap.”
“Keeping watch?”
“Oui.”
Without warning, Salvatore grasped him by the horn and plucked him off the ground, twirling him around as if he were a peculiar rock to be investigated, instead of a dignified demon.