appeared frozen in horror by their abrupt appearance.
There was a slender human woman with a mop of blond curls and innocuous blue eyes, as well as a tall, leanly handsome man that Regan instantly recognized as a cur, with dark hair and a goatee that somehow seemed perfect for his wicked features.
Regan had barely regained her balance when a cold blast of power filled the air, and Jagr had launched himself into battle.
The female screamed in terror, but rather than fleeing as any intelligent creature should have done, she threw out her hands, as if trying to shoo away the massive predator. Regan might have found it funny if there wasn’t a brilliant flash of light that smacked Jagr in the center of his chest, sending him flying backwards.
Witch.
Regan rushed toward the vampire, who was sprawled on the hard ground, the front of his sweater charred and still smoking. Damn the witch to hell. No one was allowed to harm Jagr.
No one but her.
She was less than a half step away from the injured vampire when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Allowing instinct to guide her, Regan crouched low as she whirled around, her leg striking out to trip the attacking cur.
Her dip allowed her to avoid a painful blow to her jaw as the attacker’s fist swung over the top of her head, but he managed to leap over her kicking leg, his eyes glowing with the eerie light of a wolf. Spinning to face her, the cur held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Easy, luv,” he soothed, his voice hinting at Irish origins. “I have no wish to hurt you.”
Regan gritted her teeth, too furious to be properly terrified.
“Yeah, right.” Her sharp laugh echoed through the trees. “I suppose you also have a bridge you’re trying to unload?”
His lips curved in a well rehearsed smile. “I swear on my sweet mother’s grave that I’ve been ordered to bring you alive.”
“Bring me where?”
He held out a slender hand. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
Did she have stupid tattooed on her forehead?
Regan attempted to inch around the cur, plagued by a desperate need to reach Jagr.
“What do you want with me?”
“Nothing more than to keep you safe.”
“Safe? You tried to shoot me in that hotel room, not to mention nearly roasting me alive just a minute ago.”
“We were trying to kill the vampire in that hotel room, not you. We thought he was attacking you.” His gaze slowly roamed down her body, his arrogant expression revealing he believed women enjoyed being checked over like used cars. Schmuck. “Weres and vampires don’t usually mix.”
“And tonight?” she demanded.
“I had no idea anyone was in the RV. I was sent to get rid of it, not to harm you.”
Regan stiffened. She’d assumed that they had been followed by the cur to this remote spot. But if he was telling the truth, then he’d known about the RV.
And Culligan.
“Who sent you?” she hissed. “Culligan?”
The man snorted. “Don’t be daft. As if I would take orders from a filthy imp.”
“But you know where he is?”
He confidently stepped closer, his voice low and seductive. “Not only do I know, but I have him all tied up like a birthday present, just waiting for you to come and punish him.”
Regan’s thoughts churned. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of her actually going with the cur. Her every instinct shrieked in warning. Besides, she wouldn’t leave Jagr. (Why she felt the need to protect an ancient vampire who was currently holding her hostage, not to mention driving her nuts, was something she wasn’t about to consider.)
But if she could keep him talking, then he might give some clue as to where he was hiding Culligan…and why the hell he wanted to get his hands on her.
“How do you know Culligan?” she asked.
The cur shrugged. “Never met him before he arrived in Hannibal.”
“Christ, is there a demon who comes through town who you don’t try to kill?”
“We didn’t try to kill the imp.”
There was a slender human woman with a mop of blond curls and innocuous blue eyes, as well as a tall, leanly handsome man that Regan instantly recognized as a cur, with dark hair and a goatee that somehow seemed perfect for his wicked features.
Regan had barely regained her balance when a cold blast of power filled the air, and Jagr had launched himself into battle.
The female screamed in terror, but rather than fleeing as any intelligent creature should have done, she threw out her hands, as if trying to shoo away the massive predator. Regan might have found it funny if there wasn’t a brilliant flash of light that smacked Jagr in the center of his chest, sending him flying backwards.
Witch.
Regan rushed toward the vampire, who was sprawled on the hard ground, the front of his sweater charred and still smoking. Damn the witch to hell. No one was allowed to harm Jagr.
No one but her.
She was less than a half step away from the injured vampire when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Allowing instinct to guide her, Regan crouched low as she whirled around, her leg striking out to trip the attacking cur.
Her dip allowed her to avoid a painful blow to her jaw as the attacker’s fist swung over the top of her head, but he managed to leap over her kicking leg, his eyes glowing with the eerie light of a wolf. Spinning to face her, the cur held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Easy, luv,” he soothed, his voice hinting at Irish origins. “I have no wish to hurt you.”
Regan gritted her teeth, too furious to be properly terrified.
“Yeah, right.” Her sharp laugh echoed through the trees. “I suppose you also have a bridge you’re trying to unload?”
His lips curved in a well rehearsed smile. “I swear on my sweet mother’s grave that I’ve been ordered to bring you alive.”
“Bring me where?”
He held out a slender hand. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
Did she have stupid tattooed on her forehead?
Regan attempted to inch around the cur, plagued by a desperate need to reach Jagr.
“What do you want with me?”
“Nothing more than to keep you safe.”
“Safe? You tried to shoot me in that hotel room, not to mention nearly roasting me alive just a minute ago.”
“We were trying to kill the vampire in that hotel room, not you. We thought he was attacking you.” His gaze slowly roamed down her body, his arrogant expression revealing he believed women enjoyed being checked over like used cars. Schmuck. “Weres and vampires don’t usually mix.”
“And tonight?” she demanded.
“I had no idea anyone was in the RV. I was sent to get rid of it, not to harm you.”
Regan stiffened. She’d assumed that they had been followed by the cur to this remote spot. But if he was telling the truth, then he’d known about the RV.
And Culligan.
“Who sent you?” she hissed. “Culligan?”
The man snorted. “Don’t be daft. As if I would take orders from a filthy imp.”
“But you know where he is?”
He confidently stepped closer, his voice low and seductive. “Not only do I know, but I have him all tied up like a birthday present, just waiting for you to come and punish him.”
Regan’s thoughts churned. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of her actually going with the cur. Her every instinct shrieked in warning. Besides, she wouldn’t leave Jagr. (Why she felt the need to protect an ancient vampire who was currently holding her hostage, not to mention driving her nuts, was something she wasn’t about to consider.)
But if she could keep him talking, then he might give some clue as to where he was hiding Culligan…and why the hell he wanted to get his hands on her.
“How do you know Culligan?” she asked.
The cur shrugged. “Never met him before he arrived in Hannibal.”
“Christ, is there a demon who comes through town who you don’t try to kill?”
“We didn’t try to kill the imp.”
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