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.

“You smell of hot nights and jasmine.” His mouth brushed her skin as he spoke, the cool stroke of his lips branding her flesh. “Exquisite.”

Regan squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to halt the dark tide of need. Okay, her body wanted Jagr. Wanted him with a force that was close to going nuclear.

But it was just lust. The reaction of a woman who had been denied sex her entire life.

“I didn’t say you could kiss me,” she muttered, jerking with pleasure as his lips traveled up her neck to tease the hollow just below her ear.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Stop? Hell, no. She wanted him to rip off her clothes and lick her from head to toe. She wanted him to taste and nibble and bite until she screamed in pleasure. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his thickening cock and guide him into the aching void that refused to leave her in peace. She wanted…

She wanted.

And that was the problem.

“Please, Jagr.”

He nipped the lobe of her ear. “Please what, little one? What do you want?”

“Christ.” Calling upon the considerable strength of her heritage, along with a good dose of panic, Regan slammed her hands against the steel width of his chest, managing to gain enough space to wriggle from beneath his body. Scrambling to her feet, she brushed the dirt from her new clothes and glared at the vampire who gained his feet with a sinuous grace. “What is it with you? One minute you’re giving me frostbite, and the next you have your tongue down my throat. Are you psychotic, or just a garden-variety wing nut?”

With a cold smile, Jagr prowled toward the entrance of the cave. “I think the better question is why a woman who is so obviously desperate for my touch would be so terrified of her own desire.”

Chapter 6

The high ridge overlooking the Mississippi River south of Hannibal was perfectly suited to hide a pack of renegade curs. The abandoned wooden cabin was miles from its nearest neighbor, and the thick tangle of trees deterred all but the most determined hikers. But it was not only the isolation that had lured Sadie and her pack to the remote peak.

No, it was the echoing magic that lingered in the rich black earth, and the power of the churning waters below. In long-ago times, this land had belonged to the native Indians, and residue of their devotion to nature lingered with potent force, resonating through Sadie like a tuning fork.

Not that she wouldn’t have preferred an elegant mansion, complete with acres of marble and priceless works of art. She might be an animal at heart, but she lusted for the finer things in life. Just as she had when she was turning tricks in the nasty alleys of St. Louis nearly thirty years ago.

That’s where she had first encountered Caine, the cur who had promised to make her a queen before he’d bit her and changed her world forever.

She was still waiting on the whole queen thing, she acknowledged wryly, moving through the main room of the cabin shrouded in the gathering gloom. It offered nothing more than a ratty couch, two overstuffed chairs, and a stone fireplace. There wasn’t even a picture hung on the rough wooden walls.

It was about as far away from the palace she dreamed of as the squalid boardinghouse she’d once shared with three other whores.

But then, revolutions were rarely without sacrifice.

Or blood, she was reminded as a hoarse scream reverberated from the attached shed.

A small smile touched her thin, some would claim cruel, features. Not that many men minded the hint of malicious fire that burned deep inside her. Humans might be attracted to her pale, still-smooth skin that contrasted with her waist-length raven hair and smoldering black eyes, but curs were brought to their knees by the hard muscles of her slender body and air of coiled violence that promised sweet pain.

Running her hands over the black leather pants that hung low on her hips and matched the barely-there halter top, Sadie was debating between returning to the shed and enjoying some quality torture with her captive, or going on the hunt, when a familiar scent had her rushing across the room.

Jerking open the door, she frowned as the tall, slender cur stepped from the thick shadows of the trees.

He was a tasty toy with dark hair he parted in the middle and allowed to brush past the line of his firm jaw. His eyes were indigo blue and surrounded by a tangle of thick lashes, and his features were carved with bad-boy perfection. An image only enhanced by his precisely trimmed goatee.

Black Irish.

Delectable.

Tonight, however, her first thought was not mounting him like a mechanical bull. It was pure fury that he’d obviously failed at his mission.

Stepping aside, Sadie waited for Duncan to enter the cabin before slamming the door and leaning against the wooden panels.

Outside, half a dozen curs and her personal witch roamed the woods, keeping constant guard on the area. She could catch the occasional rustle of underbrush as they circled the cabin. None would intrude without her permission.

“Where’s the bitch?” Sadie growled. She’d never been one for pleasantries. Why use a scalpel when a sledgehammer was so much more fun?

With the familiarity of a longtime lover, Duncan strolled across the room to grab a bottle of whiskey from the mantel, taking a deep swig before turning to meet her glowing gaze.

“There were…complications.”

“Do I look like I give a shit about complications? I told you to bring me the Were.”

Duncan grimaced. “She wasn’t alone.”

Sadie hissed as she straightened from the door. “Salvatore followed her to Hannibal?”

Another swig of the whiskey. “Worse. She had a vampire with her.”

“What the hell would she be doing with a bloodsucker?”

“Not just any bloodsucker.” Duncan’s sharp laugh ricocheted uneasily through the room. “I’d bet my ass it was the reclusive, legendary Jagr. I caught a glimpse of him once when I was in Chicago, but he’s not a demon you forget.”

“Jagr? I thought he was a myth.”

“Tooth fairies are a myth. Jagr is a force of nature that even other vampires fear.”

Sadie stormed across the room, yanking the bottle of whiskey from Duncan’s hand and swallowing the remaining dregs.

Perfect. Absolutely freaking perfect.

It wasn’t bad enough that Regan had slipped from her grasp, now she was being protected by the Hannibal Lecter of vampires?

Shit, Caine was going to skin her alive.

Literally, not figuratively.

“Why would he protect the Were?”

Duncan leaned against the stone mantel, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled. “Perhaps it has something to do with the fact her sister is the current Queen of Vampires?”

The thought of Darcy being discovered after so many years, only to be snatched away by the King of the Living Dead, sent another wave of fury through Sadie, forcing her to battle the instinctive urge to shift.

“Interfering leeches. I warned Caine that leaving that ditzy Were in the hands of the vamps was trouble.”

Duncan’s lips twisted as his gaze skimmed down her tense body, lingering on the tattoo of a striking snake that coiled about her waist.

“I heard your complaints, but I noticed you didn’t offer yourself to become fodder in the skirmish between the vampires and purebloods, Sadie, luv.”

Sadie stepped back from Duncan’s pulsing heat. Now was not the time to be distracted.

“Where are the others?” she demanded.

“Dead.”

Sadie whirled to hurl the empty bottle of booze into the fireplace. The shatter of glass was satisfying, but it did nothing to soothe her scalding fury.

It wasn’t that she gave a crap about the dead curs. They were nothing more than renewable resources. But the fact they had failed in their duty made her want to rip their corpses apart piece by piece.

“The vampire?”

Duncan rubbed his side as if remembering a painful blow. “No, we were hit by a spell.”