Darkness Unleashed

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.”