With a soft groan he savored the midnight jasmine that washed over him.
Over the past month he’d waged an endless war to keep himself from tracking her down and haunting her every step.
It was a vampire’s instinct to keep his mate close. Hell, there’d been a time when vampires would hold a reluctant mate prisoner in their lair.
Only the knowledge that his lurking presence might infuriate her into leaving Chicago altogether kept him away.
That, and Styx’s constant assurances that she was well guarded and seemingly content in her new life.
Now he stepped close enough to allow her precious heat to warm his frozen heart.
“What did you say?” he rasped, his gaze drinking in her pale, golden beauty.
She licked her lips in a nervous gesture. “Have your advanced years made you hard of hearing?”
“Regan.”
She sighed at his warning tone. “I said I love you.”
He trembled, desperate to believe.
“Why?”
“Do I have to bring up that whole being stupid thing again?”
He ignored her teasing, needing to be certain.
He couldn’t survive losing her again.
“Tell me why.”
Without warning she moved forward, her hands lifting to frame his face.
“I love you because you’re strong and loyal and tender and honorable.”
He shuddered at her gentle touch, his too-long suppressed hunger not giving a damn if she were sincere or not.
“And?”
“Sexy as hell.”
He groaned. She wasn’t helping.
“And?”
The emerald eyes darkened with all the emotion he’d been seeking. “And when I’m with you, I’m whole again.”
His meager restraint snapped. She was here. She said she loved him.
What more did he need?
Leaning down, he claimed her lips in a near savage kiss.
“Regan.”
“I’ve missed you, chief,” she whispered against his mouth, her breath catching as he abruptly jerked her off her feet and cradled her against his chest. “What are you doing?”
Without hesitation, Jagr headed into the empty warehouse. “What I should have done the minute you rammed into my life.”
She snorted, but a pleased smile curved her lips. “Very caveman of you. And for your information, any ramming was done by you.”
Wicked need curled through his stomach at her intentionally provocative words.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, little one,” he growled.
A delicious blush touched her cheeks. “Promises, promises.”
Oh, they were going to be more than promises, he silently vowed.
He was going to put her in his bed and savor her for the next millennium.
Reaching the middle of the decrepit building, Jagr bent down to tug aside the heavy trapdoor. Then, holding Regan tight in his arms, he stepped off the edge and fell the six feet to the tunnel beneath.
He landed without jarring the woman in his arms, and with long strides headed down the narrow tunnel, muttering curses as he was forced to halt at the heavy steel doors that guarded his lair.
As he disarmed the various locks, hexes, and sensors, Regan choked back a laugh.
“Yow. Paranoid much?”
“Better safe than sorry.” His gaze swept over her precious face. He would go to any lengths to protect this woman. His woman. “Especially now.”
Stepping over the threshold, Jagr slammed the door shut and used his powers to fill the long room with light. Regan gasped at the dozen rows of shelves that were overflowing with leather-bound books. It was only a small portion of his collection. The fragile and rarest manuscripts were kept in a vault beneath his lair. Soon he intended to share his priceless treasures with his mate.
Soon, but not now.
Ignoring her attempts to catch a glimpse at the numerous framed maps that lined the steel walls, he passed into his most private rooms, not surprised by her startled expression as she caught sight of the high-tech computer system that consumed one corner of the carpeted room, and the plasma TV angled toward the sectional couch.
Most who met him assumed he must live in a dungeon, complete with chains.
“Wait, Jagr, I want to see…”
He cut off her words with a brief, desperate kiss. “Later.”
“But…”
He kissed her again. Longer. Deeper.
“Much later,” he whispered, pulling back to watch in satisfaction as her eyes darkened with ready passion.
Reaching the back of the lair, he pressed open the thick door to his bedroom and crossed directly to the low, wide bed draped in gold satin sheets and a thick fur cover. On the walls, twelfth century tapestries glowed in the candlelight, hiding the heavy cabinets that held his lethal collection of daggers, swords, spears, and handguns.
Not exactly the most romantic setting, but Regan didn’t seem to notice as she smiled up at him with a slow, wicked temptation.
Bracing one knee on the edge of the bed, he bent over her and tugged the ribbon from her hair. Flames licked through his blood as he threaded his fingers through the golden strands, his gaze skimming over her slender curves.
“Blessed gods, you are so beautiful.”
Her smile widened as she reached up, and with unexpected strength, ripped the T-shirt from his body.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the scars that crisscrossed his torso.
He shuddered, his fangs extending and his body hardening in all the right places.
“I’ve always heard that love is blind. Now I’m certain of it.”
“Don’t play coy.” Her fingers trailed a path of fire down the hard planes of his stomach, popping the button of his jeans and easing down the zipper. Jagr growled in approval. She was a woman in charge. And he liked it. “You know very well you make women all hot and bothered.”
Him?
Well, hell. If she wanted to believe he was some sort of babe magnet, then so be it.
Kicking off his heavy boots, Jagr rid himself of the jeans and climbed on the bed to pull Regan into his arms.
He had once cursed a fate that offered nothing but cruelty and stark loneliness. Now he could only marvel at his extraordinary stroke of fortune.
Skimming his hands over her warm, deliciously shaped body, he removed her far too short shorts and far too tight shirt, briefly appreciating the matching bra and panties before they too were tossed onto the floor.
Once she was exposed in all her glory, he forced himself to slow his pace, his fingers savoring the sensation of her smooth, ivory skin.
“Are you all hot and bothered?” he husked.
Her arms lifted to circle around his neck, her breath unsteady as his roaming fingers stroked up the curve of her breast.
“I’m getting there.”
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips down the line of her nose, then gently teased the corner of her mouth.
“Regan, you’re certain?” he forced himself to ask. “Once we’re mated, I won’t be able to let you go.”
Painful regret flared through her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jagr.”
“There’s no need for apologies. You did what you needed to do.”
“No, I was big, freaking coward.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t proving I could make it on my own. I was running from my feelings because they terrified me.”
He pulled back with a frown. “Terrified?”
“I know how to be alone. I’m pretty good at it.” A wistful smile touched her lips as her hands glided down his back. “I don’t know anything about being a mate or sister.”
A groan was wrenched from his throat as he planted a path of kisses down her jaw, and at last buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“We’ll figure it out together,” he promised softly.
She deliberately rubbed against the heavy length of his erection. “Mmmm. I like the sound of that.”
Oh, he liked more than just the sound of it.
He liked the feel and taste and…
A vicious hunger gripped him and with an unsteady hand, he tugged aside her hair, baring her throat.
“I need to taste you, little one,” he rasped, his voice thick. “I want to be your mate.”
He expected her to hesitate. Even to pull away.
After all, he was demanding nothing less than her heart and soul.
Instead, she plunged her fingers into the thickness of his hair and urged him even closer.
“Now, Jagr.”
The soft prompting pushed him over the edge, searing away his last trace of common sense.
He’d waited over a thousand years to find his mate.
He wasn’t going to wait another moment.
Tilting her chin, Jagr bared his fangs and allowed them to sink into her sweet, vulnerable flesh. Oh…gods. He closed his eyes as the rich, potent elixir hit his tongue and slid down his throat.
The taste of Regan’s blood was just as erotic, just as intoxicating as he remembered.
But this time it was more.
More than nourishment. More than a means to heal his wounds. Even more than sex.
It was dazzling magic that swirled through his body and tingled through his blood. As if the very essence of Regan was flooding through him, melding and altering him until they coalesced into one.
