Darkness Unleashed Read online

  In a distant corner of her mind, she heard Jagr’s low moan of satisfaction, or perhaps it was pleasure. At the moment, she didn’t care which it was. She was too caught in the sweet building tension that gripped her with breathtaking force.

  He sucked again and again, forcing the pleasure to near pain. God almighty. She couldn’t stand any more. There had to be something…something…

  And then it happened. The pleasure reached a critical mass, and exploded with enough force to wrench a low scream from her throat.

  Toppling forward, her face landed squarely on Jagr’s hard chest, the rich scent of his male power mingling with the lingering convulsions that rocked her body.

  Boneless and floating on a tide of sweet lethargy, Regan battled to regain command of her shaken body. Holy crap. She sucked in a deep, rasping breath. Then with an effort, she lifted her head and wrenched open her heavy lids.

  Only to encounter Jagr’s ice-blue gaze.

  “Damn you,” she husked, her heartbeat still thundering in her ear.

  With a deliberate motion, the vampire gently licked the two pinpricks of blood staining her wrist before allowing her to jerk her arm from his grasp.

  “You’ve never had the bite of a vampire?”

  Still too weak to stand, Regan contented herself with scooting backward on her knees, rubbing her already healed wrist on her jeans, as if she could rub away the memories of her raw pleasure.

  Fat chance.

  She knew beyond all doubt that the sensations would be seared into her brain for all eternity.

  “No,” she muttered. “Culligan refused to share torturing me with anyone else.”

  He remained stretched on the floor, his fiercely beautiful features unreadable.

  “Do you want an apology?”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “Not in the least. Your blood is far more potent than that of a human, and better yet”—his gaze swept down her tense body—“I now know the sweet cries you make when…”

  “Shut up before I make sure you need another transfusion.”

  The distant sounds of sirens shattered through the thick tension in the air. In the blink of an eye, Jagr was on his feet, reaching down to jerk her upward in one smooth motion.

  “The police. We must get out of here.” Stunned by the vampire’s remarkable recovery, Regan found herself being hauled toward the broken window. “Can you jump from here?” Jagr demanded.

  She flashed him a glare at his ridiculous question, then careful to avoid the jagged shards of glass still stuck in the frame, she climbed through the window and leaped to the sidewalk below.

  Slinking into the nearby shadows of the alley, Regan tested the air for any nearby dangers.

  There was the usual stench of trash that filled the nearby Dumpsters, the scent of humans stirring to prepare for their early morning shifts, and the unmistakable tang of burnt flesh and blood.

  A part of her knew she should cross the street and discover if any of the curs had survived the attack. She needed to know why they attacked. And if they had any connection to Culligan.

  Another part, however, realized that she was too weakened by her hours of searching for the imp, not to mention her recent blood donation, to face her enemies alone. Especially not when they carried guns.

  Even a cur could shoot her dead if his bullets were silver.

  Cursing her current sense of impotence, Regan gave a small jerk when Jagr simply appeared beside her. One minute he wasn’t there, and then he was. No sound, no stir of the air, not even a trace of his scent.

  It was unnerving.

  And maddening.

  And…a whole host of other things that made her temper snap and snarl.

  “What took you so long?” she hissed.

  He tossed a heavy leather bag over his shoulder, indifferent to her foul mood.

  “We have to go.”

  Without waiting for her agreement, Jagr grasped her arm and steered her back to the street and headed east. The wolf in Regan growled in protest at being manhandled, but she ignored her instinct to bite.

  Not only was she smart enough to know she would need the aggravating vampire to fight off any attackers until she regained her strength, but there was a dark (frighteningly seductive) fear that he would bite back.

  They had barely managed to reach the end of the block when there was the sound of flapping wings, and the tiny gargoyle landed directly in front of them. Regan halted, surprised to realize she was pleased to see the strange little beast. He was…endearing in his own way.

  “Hey, did you think to trench me?” he demanded, his wings obviously ruffled.

  “Trench me?” Regan demanded in confusion.

  “I believe he means ‘ditch me,’” Jagr translated, stabbing Levet with a cold stare. “You deceive yourself, gargoyle, if you think that you can play with me as you do with Styx or Viper. I don’t fear any punishment the Anasso could inflict if I decided to put an end to you.”

  Far from wilting beneath the frigid warning, Levet puffed out his chest, managing to appear almost dignified as he met Jagr’s terrifying gaze.

  “You need my help, whether you like it or not, vampire. Perhaps you will recall I was the one who frightened off those attacking curs.” He cleared his throat as Jagr regarded him with that unnerving silence. “I can lead you to a cave. I can protect Regan. I have magic…”

  “Enough.” Jagr’s clipped voice brought the litany of talents to an abrupt end. “I’m going to regret this.”

  “Regret what?” Regan demanded warily.

  Jagr never allowed his gaze to stray from Levet. “Wait here with Regan. I’ll be back.”

  The gargoyle saluted. “Yes, sir, Mr. Terminator, sir.”

  “Levet,” Jagr breathed.

  “Oui?”

  “Taunt me again and I’ll rip off those wings and shove them down your throat.”

  “You have hostility issues, you know that, vampire?”

  “Just keep her safe.” And with that, Jagr turned and melted into the shadows.

  Regan leaned against the brick front of a local antique shop, too weary to be angered at Jagr’s mysterious disappearance, or even at being passed off like a used car. Once she had the opportunity to gather her strength, she would rid herself of her intrusive guardians. Until then…

  Well, she’d endured worse.

  Worse in an epic way.

  Her heavy lids drifted downward as she relaxed against the wall, trusting her keen sense of smell to warn of any approaching danger. Five minutes passed, and then another five. At last Levet, who clearly possessed the attention span of a gnat, could stand the silence no longer.

  “Sooo…you’re Darcy’s sister,” he murmured. “The resemblance is remarkable.”

  Regan lifted her heavy lids, ignoring the biting anger that flared through her heart at the mention of her sister. Family issues? Nah. Not her.

  “I thought gargoyles were bigger?” she said, more to change the subject than to be insulting.

  Levet’s tail twitched. “I might be vertically challenged, but I assure you that I’m a highly respected warrior among the vampires. Indeed, I’m something of a Knight in Shining Armor. I can’t count the number of damsels I’ve rescued from imminent death and dismemberment, which, of course, is why I was sent to rescue you.”

  A reluctant smile touched her lips. He looked more like a lawn ornament than a Knight in Shining Armor.

  “Why would you help the vampires?”

  “It’s a way to pass the time until I land my dream position.”

  “Dream position?”

  “Well, I’ve given up on the whole Vanna thing since Darcy pointed out that I’m not quite tall enough to reach the letters of the puzzle, so I’ve decided to take over Deal Or No Deal. Now that would be a sweet gig.”

  Regan choked back a laugh. Culligan had been a television junkie, rarely turning off the thing when he was in the RV. Not that Regan complained. It at least offered her a glimpse of the worl
d beyond her silver cage.

  “Does Howie Mandel know he’s about to become unemployed?” she demanded, shaking off the savage memories.

  “I thought I would keep it on the down-low for now. No need for him to go all Britney Spears before I’ve actually been offered the job.”

  This time Regan couldn’t stop her chuckle. “Very thoughtful.”

  “That’s me, a heart of gold. It’s both a blessing…” Dramatic pause. “And a curse.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.”

  A silence descended, broken only by the song of crickets and distant frogs. It was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that Regan was astonished to discover she didn’t mind the gargoyle’s company. In fact…

  No. She swiftly squashed the treacherous thoughts. She didn’t want or need a companion. Not Levet, who could make her laugh, and certainly not Jagr, who could piss her off one moment, and the next, wreak sensual havoc with a single bite.

  Against her will, Regan found her gaze searching through the darkness, her senses seeking some sign of the MIA vampire. She told herself she didn’t give a damn if Jagr had run off and gotten himself killed. One less vampire in the world couldn’t be a bad thing. Her only concern was…was…finding a place to sleep before the humans began filling the streets.

  Yeah.

  That was it.

  Absolutely.

  “You can trust him, you know.”

  Levet’s lilting voice interrupted her dark broodings. She turned to find him regarding her with knowing gray eyes.

  “What?”

  “Jagr.” His tiny face twisted in a grimace. “I might not like the coldhearted bastard, but he’s a lethal warrior and he has made a pledge to return you safely to Chicago. He will give his own life before he will let you be hurt.”

  Her fur (metaphorically speaking) was instantly ruffled. “I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”

  Levet snorted. “As if that ever stopped the pushy bastards.”

  “You mean Darcy?”

  “Sacrebleu, no.” The gargoyle was shocked by the mere suggestion. “I was speaking of the vampires. Darcy possesses the most gentle, most beautiful soul I have ever encountered. There’s no one who doesn’t love her.”

  Regan ignored the pang of envy that struck her heart.

  “Gentle soul? How the hell did we come from the same womb?”

  Levet shrugged. “Life has given you a hardened shell, but your soul is just as pure. Which is no doubt what has Mr. Cold as Ice so on edge. And of course, the fact that you’re hot as hell does not hurt.”

  Regan choked at the ridiculous claims. “You are…”

  “Oui?”

  “Very peculiar.”

  The demon flapped his wings. “Well, that’s a fine thing to say to the demon who helped save your life.”

  Regan shrugged. “I’m peculiar myself. It’s not all bad.”

  “Yeah, well you’d never call Brad Pitt or McDreamy peculiar.”

  “Tom Cruise.”

  Levet considered, then nodded. “Valid point.”

  “Weren’t you going to lead us to some caves, gargoyle?” an icy male voice demanded, the only warning that Jagr had silently appeared from the shadows.

  The gargoyle squeaked, clapping a hand to his chest. “Holy mother of God, you nearly gave me a heart attack, and not in a good way.”

  Jagr’s eyes narrowed. “The caves.”

  “And I thought Styx was a grump.” With a flick of his tail, Levet turned and waddled down the street in an obvious snit. “This way.”

  Regan hurried to follow Levet. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with the grim-faced vampire.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

  The last thing she wanted was for him to sense the rapid pounding of her heart and the flare of awareness that stained her stupid cheeks with a blush.

  What was wrong with her?

  Okay, she’d reacted to his bite. And (as much as it griped her to admit it) to his kiss.

  Jagr was a vampire. Everyone knew they used sex to lure their prey. And that even the most powerful of demons were susceptible. The only shocker would have been if she didn’t respond.

  So why was she acting like a freaking preteen with a crush on her teacher?

  Pathetic.

  Sensing Jagr move to walk by her side, Regan gave herself a mental shake and squared her shoulders. Time to start acting like a mature pureblood.

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  “Where did you go?” she demanded.

  His cool glance slashed in her direction. “I disposed of the bodies.”

  “Oh.”

  “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.