Against her will, Regan recalled those chaotic hours after her rescue. She’d been certain Salvatore Giuliani must be some sort of gorgeous guardian angel sent to free her from Culligan’s clutches. It was exactly what she’d dreamed of for years.
Until, of course, the freaking Were had allowed Culligan to escape, followed by her being informed that she had an extended family who obviously hadn’t given a damn that she was being used and abused, and then topped it off with the news she was worthless to him since he could smell her infertility.
Bastard.
“Why would Culligan be in a hurry?” She didn’t bother to hide her bitterness. “Salvatore made it clear he wasn’t going to waste his time tracking down a mere imp to punish him. Not when I’m barren and worthless.”
His lips twisted. “Culligan wasn’t afraid of the damned King of Weres. He was afraid of you.”
“He should be,” she muttered.
His artic gaze flicked over her tense body. “Do you need to feed before we begin?”
She was starving, but she wasn’t about to admit as much. Allowing this vampire to take care of her needs was…disturbing.
“I will later.”
His eyes flashed with annoyance. “That’s no answer.”
“Well, too bad, because that’s all you’re getting.”
“If you need to feed, then you’ll do it now. You’re no good to me weak.”
Regan snapped. There was no other word for it.
One moment she was standing near the entrance of the cave, and the next she was flying through the air to tackle the six-foot-three, two-hundred-fifty-pound vampire.
When they tumbled to the hard ground, Regan wasn’t certain who was the more astonished, her or Jagr.
She did know who recovered first.
She’d barely managed a smirk at the realization she’d landed on top when Jagr gave a low growl, and with one smooth motion had rolled her beneath him, his body pinning her to the hard dirt.
Regan felt her breath being squeezed from her lungs. Of course, who wouldn’t suffocate with a massive vampire squashing them?
It didn’t have anything to do with the thick hair that had loosened from its braid to tumble about them like a curtain of gold satin. Or the scent of raw power flooding her senses.
Nope. No way in hell.
So why were those blue eyes thawing as if Jagr could sense the hot rush of her blood, and the renegade softening of her limbs?
“We both know I could force you to Chicago if I wanted,” he husked, his hand cupping her face in a gesture of pure possession. “Unfortunately I understand your thirst for revenge and I’m willing to indulge you for a day or two. But not if this is a death wish. You take one unnecessary risk or try to sneak away from me again, and I will stuff you in a bag and carry you to your sister.”
Regan hissed, her body trembling with the need to rub against the hard thrust of his arousal.
“You’re really pissing me off.”
His gaze lowered to her lips. “Do we have a deal?”
“Screw you.”
Muttering words she didn’t understand, Jagr buried his face in the curve of her neck, the sensation of his fangs scraping her sensitive skin sending a shocking rash of pleasure through her body.
“You’re playing with fire, little one.”
Regan’s lips parted, her fingers digging into his upper arms as his tongue lightly traced the line of her collarbone revealed by her new pink T-shirt.
“Jagr,” she breathed.