Her mouth went dry.
She knew those benefits in intimate detail.
And she wanted more.
God almighty, did she want more.
“Did Styx try to make you one of his Charons?” she abruptly demanded, jerking away from his lingering finger. Holy crap, did all vamps possess the ability to seduce with a touch?
“Jagr as a Charon?” a dark, oddly hypnotic voice floated on the warm night breeze. “Our Anasso is far too wise to send one feral vampire after another. The idea of a Charon is to prevent a bloodbath, not create one.”
Jagr smoothly turned as Tane at last revealed his presence.
He’d sensed the dangerous vampire lurking near the dilapidated building since they’d crossed into his territory, but it was never wise to acknowledge a Charon unless they invited you to do so.
“Tane.”
The assassin remained wrapped in shadows, keeping enough distance to warn he wasn’t pleased at the unexpected intrusion.
“You’re trespassing, Jagr. A dangerous mistake that has been a death sentence for more than one creature.”
Jagr held out his hands in a gesture of peace. When he’d traveled from Chicago to Hannibal, he’d sensed Tane’s lair was in the vicinity but he hadn’t intended to drop by for a visit. He’d met the assassin nearly a decade before and wasn’t overly anxious to renew their acquaintance. All vampires were lethal, but Tane possessed an edgy, restless hunger that made even Jagr’s skin crawl with warning.
Necessity, unfortunately, was a bitch, and for the moment Tane was the lesser of two evils.
He didn’t need to use his senses to detect the wards and traps that were woven around the assassin’s lair. Although Charons were in theory under the protection of Styx, they weren’t stupid. Any vampire living in such a remote spot would go to infinite lengths to ensure his own security.
“My presence is at the command of the Anasso,” Jagr warned, knowing that any Charon was forced to take oaths that bound them tightly to Styx.
He could only hope that Tane was willing to honor those vows.
“And the woman?” Tane drawled. “Is she a gift for disturbing my peace? I prefer my females with more curves and less tongue, but she’ll do.”
“Hey, you piece of…”
Swiftly wrapping one arm around Regan’s waist, Jagr placed his free hand over her mouth. Gods, the woman was going to get them both killed.
Leaning down, he spoke directly in her ear. “Regan, remain here while I negotiate with my brother.”
She glared at him until he dropped his hand from her mouth. “Negotiate what?”
“Whether you live or die,” Tane taunted from the shadows.
Her emerald eyes flashed, and Jagr could sense the wolf in her snarling in fury.
“You tell me to trust you, and this is where you bring me?” she hissed. “If I wanted to have my life threatened by a dirt-bag demon, I could have stayed in Hannibal.”
His arm tightened around her waist in a silent warning. “Little one, you’re only making this more complicated.”
“And?”
“And it would save a great deal of trouble if you would allow me to speak with Tane in private.”
“So, I’m just supposed to stand here twiddling my thumbs while you parlay with Jack Sparrow?”
Tane’s dark laugh floated on the breeze. “You could join me in my lair and twiddle my…”
“Enough, Tane,” Jagr growled in warning.
Regan muttered a foul curse. “I really, really don’t like this guy.”
Pressing a brief kiss to her lips, Jagr released his hold on her tense body and turned. He needed Regan in the safety of a lair. The sooner the better.
“Stay here and trust me,” he murmured, flowing toward the nearby building and waiting vampire.
“Someday, Jagr, I swear to God I’m going to…”
His lips twitched at her furious tirade, but wisely his attention swiftly moved to the assassin who waited on the wide terrace.
Approaching the steps, Jagr was brought to a sudden halt as a silver-tipped spear suddenly struck the ground a mere inch from the toe of his boot.
“That’s close enough.”
Jagr allowed his fangs to lengthen, his power dropping the temperature. Tane was a powerful vampire who’d been trained by Styx’s Ravens, but Jagr wasn’t feared by demons far and wide because of his less-than-sparkling personality.
“I’m not your enemy, Tane.”
“Neither are you my friend.” Allowing his shadows to drop, Tane stepped into a wash of silver moonlight.
Although smaller in bulk than Jagr, the vampire was smoothly muscular, with the golden skin of his Polynesian ancestors, his thick black hair shaved on the sides into a long Mohawk he braided to hang past his shoulders. His face was as lean and hard as the rest of him, with faintly slanted eyes the precise color of warm honey. Wearing nothing more than a pair of khaki shorts, Tane folded his arms over his bare chest and regarded Jagr with suspicion.
“What are you doing here? The last I heard you were in Chicago, cloistered in your lair and shunning your clan.”
“I don’t shun them,” Jagr denied with a grim smile. “It’s more a mutual agreement that I shouldn’t bother to join the clan bowling league.”
Tane’s short, startled laugh did nothing to ease the menace thickening the air.
“Hardly a surprise. You never did play well with others, Jagr.”
“No, but I serve the Anasso when I’m called.”
“Don’t we all?”
“Yes, which is why I have come to you.” Jagr casually plucked the spear from the ground. “I assume you honor your pledge to Styx?”
“I’ll decide if assisting you is included in my duty to the Anasso or not.”
It was the best Jagr could hope for, and with stark precision, he revealed his purpose in coming to Hannibal and the events leading to seeking out this private lair.
Tane listened in silence, his gaze shifting toward Regan, who paced a small patch of ground, muttering her opinion of arrogant, ill-mannered, bloodsucking leeches.
“A Were that doesn’t shift?”
“Yes.”
“The miracles of modern medicine.”
Jagr was quite willing to believe that Regan was a miracle, but not because of any modern medicine.
“The genetic alterations might have halted Regan’s ability to shift, but she possesses most of a Were’s skills, and more than her fair share of a Were’s nasty temper.”