Darkness Unleashed
Page 8
“Levet was right,” he continued smoothly. “They were curs. Three of them. Two were caught in Levet’s blast and one managed to escape.”
Her steps faltered. “Why aren’t we following his trail? Culligan might have sent him.”
“I followed the trail. It disappeared four blocks north of here.”
“Just like Culligan’s.”
“Yes.” The frosty blue gaze swept over her face. “Did the imp have a lot of contact with the curs during your imprisonment?”
“On occasion.” Regan grimaced. “No more than any other of the lowlife demons we encountered during our travels.”
“Travels?”
“Culligan never remained in one place more than a few nights. We crisscrossed the country a hundred times.”
“What about Hannibal? Did you stay here often?”
“No.” Regan shook her head. She’d heard of Hannibal, of course. Built on the edge of the mighty Mississippi River, it was the home of Samuel Clemons (Mark Twain), and the setting for many of his most famous novels. There was also some cave or another that had been the hiding spot for Jesse James (the History Channel was a wonderful thing). A charming town, but hardly a hot spot for demons. “He never even mentioned this place.”
Jagr considered her words as they crossed through an empty parking lot built close to the river. In the darkness, Regan could hear the waters that swirled and eddied around the tethered steamboat tied to the nearby dock.
“Then we can’t be certain that Culligan was behind the attack,” he at last concluded.
Great. New, mysterious enemies. Just what she needed.
“Why would the curs want to kill me?” she growled, as annoyed by Jagr’s cool reaction to her obvious danger as being shot at in the first place. Wasn’t he freaking sent to keep her safe? “I thought they worshipped pureblooded Weres?”
A golden brow arched at her churlish tone. “If there’s a local Were pack, they might think you’re a rogue. Weres are as territorial as vampires.”
“But what about the trail disappearing?”
“It’s a connection, but for all we know the curs slaughtered Culligan and covered his death with the same magic that hides their scent. We don’t know enough to jump to conclusions.”
He was right. Only a fool would ignore the possibility that there were other dangers beyond Culligan.
“Damn.”
Jagr’s icy expression softened at her weary concession. Never breaking stride, he thrust a paper bag into her hand and led her from the parking lot to the tangle of undergrowth that lined the river.
“Here.”
Regan frowned. “What’s this?”
“Food.” His gaze drifted down to her wrist. “You’ll need it to replenish the blood I took.”
White-hot heat flared through her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She could almost feel his fangs sinking into her flesh, and the sensuous tugs as he took her blood.
Ducking her head down, she ripped open the bag to discover two still warm bagels and a container of orange juice.
Her stomach rumbled in pleasure.
“Thanks,” she muttered, keeping her face hidden behind the thick curtain of her hair as she rapidly worked her way through the bagels.
Jagr retreated to his familiar silence, wise enough not to offer help when they reached a narrow path that led to the high bluff overlooking the river. Her nerves were already on edge. It wouldn’t take much to have her striking out, regardless of the consequence.
They climbed without speaking, and reaching the top of the bluff, Regan paused to throw away the empty bag, covertly leaning against the plastic trash can. The path had been a steep one, perilously sapping her waning energy.
In less than a heartbeat Jagr was at her side, his arm wrapping about her waist to haul her against the erotic power of his body.
“Why didn’t you ask for help?” he demanded, his dark voice sliding down her spine, sending ripples of pleasure through her.
Oh…hell.
She wanted to lean into all that male hardness. To close her eyes and drown in his ruthless strength.
The need was as intense and unwelcome as the awareness that hummed through her body with tiny, electric jolts.
Placing her palms against his chest, she shoved. “I’m fine.”
He frowned down at her, refusing to loosen his grip. “You might be dizzy…”
She shoved again. “I said I’m fine. Just stop talking about it.”
“About what?” His hard lips twitched. “My feeding, or your reaction?”
Lifting her foot, she kicked him as hard as she could in the knee.
It couldn’t have hurt. Even at her full power, it would be difficult to injure such an ancient demon. Still, it was enough to catch him off guard. Using the nanosecond of distraction, Regan ducked beneath his arms and rushed toward the gargoyle, who was disappearing into the thick tangle of brush and trees that ran along the bluff.
“I swear to God, one day…” she muttered beneath her breath.
She didn’t know what she was going to do.
But it was going to be evil.
Chapter 3
The cave that tunneled through the bluff was not large. The main chamber was the size of a human living room, and low enough that Jagr was in constant danger of banging his head. On the plus side, the entrance was narrow enough to prevent more than one attacker from entering at a time, and there was a smaller chamber in the back that had a shallow stream of water that emptied into a basin.
It was not the fact that it was easily defensible, or that there was a ready supply of fresh water, however, that made the cave seemed like a paradise, Jagr decided.
It was the armful of warm Were he had tucked close to his body as he lay on the hard floor.
Leaning on his elbow, Jagr studied Regan’s finely carved features. In sleep they appeared even more unbearably fragile. Her skin was a flawless ivory stretched over the perfectly formed brow and tiny nose. Her lips were lush, when not tightened with anger, and her lashes a thick curtain as they lay against her cheeks.
So lovely.
So breathtaking.
And so terrifying in her ability to fascinate him.
Jagr shook his head. He’d lived for centuries. Beautiful women had drifted in and out of his life with predictable regularity. But none had possessed the golden innocence of her soul. An innocence that the tortured darkness in him craved. As if her purity could soothe away the festering shadows.
And of course, there was the fierce, relentless courage that had allowed her to survive her years of torture.
Culligan had wounded her, but he had never broken her.
He was one of the few who could truly appreciate what it had cost her.
She was completely and utterly unique. A creature like no other he had ever encountered.
A strange hint of warning whispered to his heart. An instinctive awareness that his behavior since arriving in Hannibal was…uncharacteristic. The grim control and cool logic that had ruled him for centuries was being undermined by the tiny, ferocious Were currently snuggled against him.
He wasn’t sure whether he should be furious or terrified.
Certainly he shouldn’t have been…smug. As if he’d found a treasure that he hadn’t expected and didn’t even know he desired.
Perhaps sensing his inner conflict, Regan stirred against his chest. Jagr tightened his grip.
They had barely arrived at the cave when Regan had collapsed in exhaustion. For all her power and stubborn determination, she’d pushed herself too hard for too long and her body had simply shut down.
Without hesitation, Jagr had carried her to the back of the cave, placing her against the wall and lying down so he was between her unconscious form and the distant entrance. Nothing would be allowed to get to her without coming through him first.
At the time he’d told himself it was for her protection. He had made a pledge to keep her safe, and by the gods, that’s what he would do.
But no matter how he tried to twist logic, he knew it wasn’t a mere need to protect that led him to tenderly cradle her in his arms, or to awaken well before sunset just so he could study her pale, perfect face.
With a flutter, she lifted her thick tangle of lashes, revealing the emerald eyes that were still clouded by sleep.
There was a moment as she struggled to recall why she was lying in a strange cave in the arms of a vampire, a renegade hint of sensual awareness darkening her gaze before reality crashed through her fog, and she was angrily shoving her hands against his chest.
“What the hell…let me go.”
Jagr was caught off guard by the force of her blow, nearly losing his grip before he could roll on top of her and use his considerable weight to control her attempts to escape.
Her strength had returned with a vengeance.
Along with her temper.
A pity, since he could think of far better means of passing the next few minutes than fighting with the beautiful Were.
Ignoring the stirring of his body, Jagr met Regan’s furious glare with a stoic determination.
“Not until the sun has completely set. I won’t allow you to leave the cave until I can accompany you.”
Her steps faltered. “Why aren’t we following his trail? Culligan might have sent him.”
“I followed the trail. It disappeared four blocks north of here.”
“Just like Culligan’s.”
“Yes.” The frosty blue gaze swept over her face. “Did the imp have a lot of contact with the curs during your imprisonment?”
“On occasion.” Regan grimaced. “No more than any other of the lowlife demons we encountered during our travels.”
“Travels?”
“Culligan never remained in one place more than a few nights. We crisscrossed the country a hundred times.”
“What about Hannibal? Did you stay here often?”
“No.” Regan shook her head. She’d heard of Hannibal, of course. Built on the edge of the mighty Mississippi River, it was the home of Samuel Clemons (Mark Twain), and the setting for many of his most famous novels. There was also some cave or another that had been the hiding spot for Jesse James (the History Channel was a wonderful thing). A charming town, but hardly a hot spot for demons. “He never even mentioned this place.”
Jagr considered her words as they crossed through an empty parking lot built close to the river. In the darkness, Regan could hear the waters that swirled and eddied around the tethered steamboat tied to the nearby dock.
“Then we can’t be certain that Culligan was behind the attack,” he at last concluded.
Great. New, mysterious enemies. Just what she needed.
“Why would the curs want to kill me?” she growled, as annoyed by Jagr’s cool reaction to her obvious danger as being shot at in the first place. Wasn’t he freaking sent to keep her safe? “I thought they worshipped pureblooded Weres?”
A golden brow arched at her churlish tone. “If there’s a local Were pack, they might think you’re a rogue. Weres are as territorial as vampires.”
“But what about the trail disappearing?”
“It’s a connection, but for all we know the curs slaughtered Culligan and covered his death with the same magic that hides their scent. We don’t know enough to jump to conclusions.”
He was right. Only a fool would ignore the possibility that there were other dangers beyond Culligan.
“Damn.”
Jagr’s icy expression softened at her weary concession. Never breaking stride, he thrust a paper bag into her hand and led her from the parking lot to the tangle of undergrowth that lined the river.
“Here.”
Regan frowned. “What’s this?”
“Food.” His gaze drifted down to her wrist. “You’ll need it to replenish the blood I took.”
White-hot heat flared through her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She could almost feel his fangs sinking into her flesh, and the sensuous tugs as he took her blood.
Ducking her head down, she ripped open the bag to discover two still warm bagels and a container of orange juice.
Her stomach rumbled in pleasure.
“Thanks,” she muttered, keeping her face hidden behind the thick curtain of her hair as she rapidly worked her way through the bagels.
Jagr retreated to his familiar silence, wise enough not to offer help when they reached a narrow path that led to the high bluff overlooking the river. Her nerves were already on edge. It wouldn’t take much to have her striking out, regardless of the consequence.
They climbed without speaking, and reaching the top of the bluff, Regan paused to throw away the empty bag, covertly leaning against the plastic trash can. The path had been a steep one, perilously sapping her waning energy.
In less than a heartbeat Jagr was at her side, his arm wrapping about her waist to haul her against the erotic power of his body.
“Why didn’t you ask for help?” he demanded, his dark voice sliding down her spine, sending ripples of pleasure through her.
Oh…hell.
She wanted to lean into all that male hardness. To close her eyes and drown in his ruthless strength.
The need was as intense and unwelcome as the awareness that hummed through her body with tiny, electric jolts.
Placing her palms against his chest, she shoved. “I’m fine.”
He frowned down at her, refusing to loosen his grip. “You might be dizzy…”
She shoved again. “I said I’m fine. Just stop talking about it.”
“About what?” His hard lips twitched. “My feeding, or your reaction?”
Lifting her foot, she kicked him as hard as she could in the knee.
It couldn’t have hurt. Even at her full power, it would be difficult to injure such an ancient demon. Still, it was enough to catch him off guard. Using the nanosecond of distraction, Regan ducked beneath his arms and rushed toward the gargoyle, who was disappearing into the thick tangle of brush and trees that ran along the bluff.
“I swear to God, one day…” she muttered beneath her breath.
She didn’t know what she was going to do.
But it was going to be evil.
Chapter 3
The cave that tunneled through the bluff was not large. The main chamber was the size of a human living room, and low enough that Jagr was in constant danger of banging his head. On the plus side, the entrance was narrow enough to prevent more than one attacker from entering at a time, and there was a smaller chamber in the back that had a shallow stream of water that emptied into a basin.
It was not the fact that it was easily defensible, or that there was a ready supply of fresh water, however, that made the cave seemed like a paradise, Jagr decided.
It was the armful of warm Were he had tucked close to his body as he lay on the hard floor.
Leaning on his elbow, Jagr studied Regan’s finely carved features. In sleep they appeared even more unbearably fragile. Her skin was a flawless ivory stretched over the perfectly formed brow and tiny nose. Her lips were lush, when not tightened with anger, and her lashes a thick curtain as they lay against her cheeks.
So lovely.
So breathtaking.
And so terrifying in her ability to fascinate him.
Jagr shook his head. He’d lived for centuries. Beautiful women had drifted in and out of his life with predictable regularity. But none had possessed the golden innocence of her soul. An innocence that the tortured darkness in him craved. As if her purity could soothe away the festering shadows.
And of course, there was the fierce, relentless courage that had allowed her to survive her years of torture.
Culligan had wounded her, but he had never broken her.
He was one of the few who could truly appreciate what it had cost her.
She was completely and utterly unique. A creature like no other he had ever encountered.
A strange hint of warning whispered to his heart. An instinctive awareness that his behavior since arriving in Hannibal was…uncharacteristic. The grim control and cool logic that had ruled him for centuries was being undermined by the tiny, ferocious Were currently snuggled against him.
He wasn’t sure whether he should be furious or terrified.
Certainly he shouldn’t have been…smug. As if he’d found a treasure that he hadn’t expected and didn’t even know he desired.
Perhaps sensing his inner conflict, Regan stirred against his chest. Jagr tightened his grip.
They had barely arrived at the cave when Regan had collapsed in exhaustion. For all her power and stubborn determination, she’d pushed herself too hard for too long and her body had simply shut down.
Without hesitation, Jagr had carried her to the back of the cave, placing her against the wall and lying down so he was between her unconscious form and the distant entrance. Nothing would be allowed to get to her without coming through him first.
At the time he’d told himself it was for her protection. He had made a pledge to keep her safe, and by the gods, that’s what he would do.
But no matter how he tried to twist logic, he knew it wasn’t a mere need to protect that led him to tenderly cradle her in his arms, or to awaken well before sunset just so he could study her pale, perfect face.
With a flutter, she lifted her thick tangle of lashes, revealing the emerald eyes that were still clouded by sleep.
There was a moment as she struggled to recall why she was lying in a strange cave in the arms of a vampire, a renegade hint of sensual awareness darkening her gaze before reality crashed through her fog, and she was angrily shoving her hands against his chest.
“What the hell…let me go.”
Jagr was caught off guard by the force of her blow, nearly losing his grip before he could roll on top of her and use his considerable weight to control her attempts to escape.
Her strength had returned with a vengeance.
Along with her temper.
A pity, since he could think of far better means of passing the next few minutes than fighting with the beautiful Were.
Ignoring the stirring of his body, Jagr met Regan’s furious glare with a stoic determination.
“Not until the sun has completely set. I won’t allow you to leave the cave until I can accompany you.”
