Jagr took a sharp step backward, shaking his head against the agonizing need that clamored to heed Tane’s words.
God dammit.
Was the vampire trying to send him over the edge?
He’d done everything in his power to earn Regan’s heart. And deep in his gut, he was certain she did love him.
But after years of being held captive, she wasn’t capable of bonding herself to anyone.
Let alone to an overly possessive, overly arrogant vampire who was consumed with his need for her.
And in many ways, he couldn’t blame her. He remembered his own bleak days after escaping Kesi. The last thing he could have endured was a mate who depended on him for her every happiness.
“I can’t force her to become my mate.”
Tane flashed a wicked smile. “No, but you can remind her what she’s missing.”
They were thankfully interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and turning his head, Jagr watched the gang of curs troop into the cabin, all fully dressed and loaded with enough firepower to take out the Pentagon.
“We’re ready.” Hess stated the obvious.
Tane muttered his opinion of working with stinking dogs, but with a wry grimace, he moved toward the doorway and stairs that led into the waiting tunnel.
“Then let’s do this.”
Chapter 22
Left alone in the cabin, Jagr briefly considered his options.
He could always join Tane on the trail of Salvatore.
The ease that Caine had revealed in kidnapping a pureblood of Salvatore’s strength proved the cur (or whoever the hell was behind this latest disaster) was a dangerous adversary. And who the hell knew what damage the unknown demon could cause?
Unfortunately, he knew that Tane was right.
In this moment, he wasn’t capable of concentrating on the hunt.
Not with his emotions unstable and his thoughts consumed with Regan.
Humiliating, but true.
His only other option was to return to Tane’s lair.
It was far too late to attempt the journey to Chicago before dawn. And if he was being perfectly honest, he wasn’t prepared to make his appearance at Styx’s and give his latest report.
Not when Regan was bound to be there.
His need was still too raw. If he caught scent of her, there was nothing that would keep him from tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her to his lair, whether she liked it or not.
Something he was trying to avoid.
Besides, he was weary to the bone.
He needed to rest and feed.
His decision made, Jagr followed the trail back to Tane’s remote lair, careful to choose a room far from the one he shared with Regan. The aching emptiness was bad enough without being surrounded by the vivid reminders of their time together.
Forcing himself to feed, Jagr endured the worried questions of Tane’s servants, and then managed a few hours’ rest.
He was pacing the floor by the time the sun at last set again, and the moment he judged it safe, he was speeding out of the lair and heading to Chicago.
The journey was thankfully tedious, and heading directly to Styx’s sprawling mansion north of the city, he was taken to the Anasso’s private office.
Now he sat on a low leather sofa and watched as Styx paced from one end of the book-lined room to the other.
“Damn. These curs are starting to wear on my temper,” the towering Aztec muttered as Jagr finished his report, appearing distinctly out of place among the polished mahogany furniture and delicate Persian carpet. A six-foot-five leather-clad bull in a china shop. “Someone needs to nail their hides to a wall.”
Jagr’s lips twisted as he considered Salvatore’s reaction to being kidnapped. The proud Were was no doubt ready to declare genocide on the curs.
“I would guess that you’re not alone in wanting to nail a few cur hides to the wall,” he said dryly. “Unfortunately, they constantly seem to be one step ahead of us.”
Styx made a sound of disgust, his hands clenched at his side as if wishing he had a weapon to seize.
“Could you sense how badly Salvatore was injured?”
Jagr shrugged. “Not so badly he should have been overcome by a mere cur.”
“Was there magic?”
“Tane could sense a female demon, but he couldn’t determine a species. It could have magical abilities.”
Styx halted near his massive desk, his brow furrowed with frustration.
“I don’t like this. Tane could be walking into a trap.”
“If you want, I’ll return and…”
“No, you’ve done enough, my brother,” Styx interrupted. “I’ll contact Tane, although I might as well ram my head into a wall as try to convince him to return to Hannibal. The vampire terrifies even me when he’s on the hunt.”
Jagr didn’t doubt it. There was an intensity about Tane that would frighten anyone.
“I assume that’s why you chose him as a Charon.”
“One of the reasons.”
Jagr grimaced. “I don’t think I want to know the others.”
“Wise choice.” Styx folded his arms over his chest. “There was no sign of Levet?”
Surprisingly, Jagr felt a small pang of remorse at the disappearance of the aggravating gargoyle. Not that he actually cared if the beast was dead, he hastily assured himself. He couldn’t have gone that soft in the head. It was just that he couldn’t bear the thought of Regan mourning for one of her few friends.
“We know he went into the cabin and didn’t come out,” he admitted.
Styx leaned against the desk, his expression weary. “Bloody hell, Darcy’s not going to be happy. Not only have I lost track of her sister, but that ridiculous gargoyle has disappeared. Why she’s attached herself to that annoying lump of granite defies logic, but then she’s a woman. They very rarely make sense.”
Jagr snorted. What was the latest saying…preaching to the choir…
“You won’t get an argument from me,” he muttered.
“No, I don’t suppose I would.” Styx paused, his gaze unnervingly perceptive. “Regan is here.”
Jagr clenched the arms of his chair until the wood threatened to crack beneath the pressure.
He didn’t need Styx to warn him of Regan’s presence. He’d sensed her like a punch in the gut the moment he stepped onto the rolling parkland that surrounded the mansion.
Thankfully, the large office was hexed to ensure privacy, and the familiar scent of midnight jasmine was muted enough to ease the stark yearning that plagued him.
“I know.” He turned his head to stare at the leather-bound books that filled the shelves. He couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in Styx’s eyes. “She’s…well?”
“She’s healing,” Styx said slowly. “At least physically.”
Unable to halt the biting concern, Jagr snapped his head back to stab Styx with a narrowed glare.
“Is something wrong?”
Styx tugged on the ancient medallion hung around his neck. A sure sign he was troubled.
“I may not possess Viper’s skill in reading the souls of others, but I know Regan carries a burden that darkens her heart.”
Jagr struggled not to overreact.
Bad, bad things happened when he overreacted.
“She was just released from hell. She needs time to heal.”
“Shutting herself off from those who would help her isn’t healing,” Styx growled, clearly annoyed that Regan wasn’t embracing her new family with the eagerness he’d hoped for. “I should know. I spent centuries wandering alone and miserable. It wasn’t until the previous Anasso took me as his servant that I could accept the brutality of my past, and begin to consider a future.”
Although Jagr had never heard Styx speak of his past, the Anasso was old enough to have endured the chaos and violence that was common among the vampires in ancient times. Back then, a newly made vampire rarely survived more than a few years.
Something that Styx had dedicated his life to changing.
Jagr slowly rose to his feet. He was weary and in need of the peace of his lair.
“Who’s to say that if the Anasso had approached you any earlier you would have been prepared to join him?” he demanded with a wry smile. “Perhaps our master was wise enough to wait until you could accept a place as his chosen.”
Styx arched a brow. “And Viper told me you were just another pretty face. Obviously all those years of scholarly research wasn’t a complete waste.”
Jagr’s sharp laugh echoed through the room. “I wouldn’t jump to any hasty conclusions. I can be remarkably stupid when I put my mind to it.”
Styx moved to stand directly before him. “What will you do now?”
“In the next few moments, or with the rest of my existence?”
Styx flashed his rare smile. “You are in a philosophical mood tonight.”
“It must be the ambiance.”
“Gods, don’t remind me.” Styx shuddered as he cast a disgusted glance around the ornate, elegant furnishings before returning his attention to Jagr. “Are you returning to your lair?”
