Regan struggled to put her vague suspicion into words. “If this Caine truly believes he can transform himself into a Were, why would he bother plotting a fight he can never win? Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend his time finding the key to enhancing his gifts?”
“He’s already gone through the change…” Salvatore bit off his words, his eyes glowing with that eerie fire. “Cristo.”
“And if he believes that he can still get the powers he lacks, what would he need?” Jagr rasped.
Salvatore toyed with the heavy signet ring on his finger. “If his theory wasn’t completely illogical, completely unscientific, and completely crazy, I suppose he would need a pureblood.”
Four pairs of male eyes turned to regard Regan as if she were a nasty bug beneath a microscope.
“Surely they would need her alive?” Jagr rasped, the edge of ice in his voice assuring Regan he wasn’t nearly so calm as he appeared.
She was swiftly discovering the stronger his emotions, the deeper he coated them in permafrost.
“Actually, I think they have been trying to take me alive,” Regan admitted, deliberately catching Jagr’s fierce gaze. “It’s you they want to kill.”
“Imagine that,” Salvatore drawled.
Jagr’s attention never wavered from Regan. “How can you be certain?”
“I’m not certain, but Duncan was trying to convince me to come willingly with him while you were still unconscious.”
“The terrifying Jagr knocked unconscious by a cur?”
This time Jagr flashed an icy glare toward the provoking Salvatore. “A witch.”
“Duncan said that he wanted to keep me safe.” Regan hurriedly headed off yet another squabble between the two. “He didn’t say what danger I was supposedly in, but it was obvious he was desperate to take me somewhere, no matter what he had to do get me there.”
Salvatore snarled a low curse. “I look forward to meeting this Duncan. We have a great deal to discuss.”
Something that might have been frustration hardened Jagr’s beautiful face.
“At this point, it’s all nothing more than speculation. Leaping to conclusions could put Regan in danger. For now, all that matters is that she remain protected.”
She instinctively bristled at his possessive tone. Okay, she was ready, willing, and able to take advantage of his bodacious body. Why not? She’d been forced into celibacy for too long. And he’d already proven he possessed the sort of skills a woman in rampant lust could appreciate.
But the last thing she wanted was an overbearing keeper.
She already had one of those on her list to kill.
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” she snapped. “And the only thing I’m interested in is the fact that Duncan claims they have Culligan.”
Jagr’s frustration became a tangible blast of frozen air. “It’s a trap.”
She rolled her eyes at his flat accusation. “Ya think?”
“I think when it comes to the imp, you tend to act first and think of the consequences later.”
Salvatore’s soft laugh replaced Jagr’s chill with a brush of warm velvet.
“I see he knows you in more than just the carnal sense, sweet Regan.”
She tossed him an annoyed frown. “Shut up.”
“Is that any way to speak to your king?” he mocked.
She was about to inform her freaking king she’d talk to him any way she pleased when the sudden entrance of Levet had everyone spinning toward him in shock.
Ignoring the various guns, daggers, and flashing fangs that were aimed in his direction, Levet waddled forward, his tiny snout twitching.
“Sacrebleu. What’s that stench?” He blatantly glanced toward Salvatore. “Oh. Dogs. I should have known.”
Salvatore merely smiled, reaching out a hand to catch the bristling cur at his side.
“Easy, Hess. Do you not recall the stunted gargoyle who so kindly led Darcy into our trap?” The smile widened to reveal the white, white teeth. “I never did have the opportunity to offer my thanks.”
“Not much of a trap since Darcy is currently the Queen of Vampires, not Weres,” Levet smoothly countered.
Salvatore’s eyes flashed, but his expression remained mocking. “Her loss.”
The words had barely tumbled from his lips when there was the distant sound of shattering glass.
Within the cave everyone stilled, the very air shimmering with a sense of foreboding. Then with a movement that was too swift for Regan to follow, Jagr had launched himself forward, knocking her to the ground and covering her with his large body, as the concussion of an explosion far below rocked the bluff.
Jagr ignored Regan’s fists that pounded his chest, as well as her colorful descriptions of what should happen to oversized oafs who tackled hapless women, not willing to move until he was certain that the cave wasn’t on the edge of collapse. Only then did he lift himself high enough to run a searching gaze over Regan’s wriggling body, needing to be certain that she wasn’t hurt.
Dodging a fist aimed directly at his chin, Jagr flowed to his feet, hiding his smile.
If she could throw a punch like that, she couldn’t be badly injured.
Sensing he might lose a hand if he offered to help her off the ground, Jagr turned to join Salvatore and his curs at the entrance to the cave. He would no doubt pay for his violent instinct to protect Regan, but there had been no choice. He could no more have halted his reaction than he could halt the sun from rising.
A knowledge he shoved to the back of his mind as he stepped beside Salvatore and studied the expensive Humvee that was now a ball of flame in the parking lot far below.
“Dio,” the Were breathed. “Hess. Max. Bring me whoever is responsible.”
Looking as if they’d been shot from a cannon, the two curs bolted down the steep slope of the bluff, their low growls echoing through the darkness.
Jagr folded his arms over his chest, not entirely displeased to watch Salvatore’s vehicle go up flames. Not just because of his overly intimate manner toward Regan (although that was reason enough to rip out his filthy heart), but because the Were had wounded Regan when she was at her most vulnerable.
The bastard had freed her from the nightmare of Culligan, only to toss her aside when she couldn’t provide him what he desired.
It was no wonder she found it impossible to trust.
“Your curs have a peculiar means of welcoming their king.” He studied the burning Humvee. “Unless this is some ritual I’m unaware of?”