She moved forward, then halted in shock. Good…Lord. It looked like it had been decorated by Hugh Hefner on crack.
Her brows lifted as she studied the rich crimson wallpaper and framed pictures of naked women. The ceiling was painted with satyrs in full arousal, dancing in the shimmering light of the large chandeliers. Even worse, there wasn’t a stick of furniture, but instead a dozen large pillows spread over the acres of ivory carpeting, and an honest-to-God whirlpool humming and splashing in the center of the room.
“This is my guest apartment,” Tane said from the doorway, the mocking amusement in his voice revealing he was thoroughly enjoying her appalled expression. “You should find what you need. However, if you decide to leave, don’t stray from the path I’ve shown you. There are any number of nasty surprises for the uninvited.”
Jagr gently tugged the bags of clothing from her stiff fingers, tossing them into a corner along with his own leather satchel.
“Speaking of uninvited, the Anasso sent his pet gargoyle to be a very persistent pain in my side,” he warned Tane. “If he makes an appearance, you might want to avoid killing him.”
“I’ve heard rumors of the creature.”
“Rumors can’t prepare you for the real thing,” Jagr said dryly.
Tane made a sound of disgust. “I will allow him to perch on the roof if he can behave himself, but if he tries to invade my lair I make no promises.”
Jagr shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Appearing remarkably unconcerned, Tane stepped back into the corridor. “I have business to attend to, but my guards will remain on duty. You won’t be disturbed.”
Without warning, Jagr offered a bow of his head. “I’m in your debt, Tane.”
“Yes, you are. Someday I’ll collect.”
His warning delivered, Tane shut the door, enclosing Regan and Jagr alone in the gaudy apartment.
For a minute, Regan simply enjoyed the absence of Tane’s unnerving presence, but eventually the realization she was completely alone with Jagr, in a place custom-built for sex, made her…twitchy.
With jerky steps, she moved across the ivory carpet, peeking into the compact kitchen with its expensive appliances before moving through the connecting door to the bedroom beyond.
Not her smartest decision.
She’d barely switched on the light when Jagr slipped past her, his brows lifting as he prowled toward the round bed draped in black satin that was reflected in the mirrors above it.
It was like one big bachelor pad cliché.
Her cheeks burned with a ridiculous heat. “I can’t imagine why Tane would need guest chambers. Who the hell would want to visit?”
Jagr tugged open a drawer of the lacquer nightstand. “Unlike you, little one, most women find Tane inexplicably charming. Even among vampires, his reputation is that of a…”
“Hound?”
“Not the word I was looking for, but it’ll do.” Jagr plucked a pair of handcuffs from the drawer and dangled them from his finger. “Well, well.”
“Good grief.” She frowned as he studied her with an expectant expression. “Don’t even think about it.”
His soft, almost tangible chuckle feathered over her skin. “I don’t need toys to please a woman. Of course…”
“I’ve seen enough.”
Spinning on her heel, Regan marched into the kitchen, her back ramrod straight, even as all sorts of delicious sensations fluttered in the pit of her stomach.
No, Jagr most certainly didn’t need toys.
Not when his touch was pure magic.
Only a step behind her, Jagr moved toward the built-in refrigerator and tugged open the side freezer.
“You should eat something. Do you have a preference?”
Refusing to reveal her childish unease, Regan moved directly to his side and peered into the freezer. Her mouth instantly watered at the sight of the neatly stacked packages from some of the most famous restaurants in the world.
Chicago style pizza…New Orleans gumbo…Kansas City barbeque…Maine lobster…
“Everything,” she muttered, reaching to pluck a few of the top boxes from the freezer and handing them to Jagr to defrost in the microwave. “Tane at least knows how to feed his guests.”
In a remarkably short amount of time, the small glass dining table was overflowing with pizza, bread sticks, minestrone soup, and a warm apple tart.
Taking a seat, Regan didn’t even try to pretend she was one of those ridiculously skinny women she watched on TV. Why the hell would she starve herself to please some man?
Savoring the delicious food that had nothing in common with the cheap frozen dinners that Culligan used to feed her, Regan at last realized that Jagr was leaning against the counter watching her with an unwavering intensity.
“What about you?” she demanded, wiping her mouth with a linen napkin. “Aren’t you hungry?”
His brooding gaze slid down to the curve of her neck. “Not for what’s currently on the menu.”
Desire, sharp and biting, clenched her body as Regan surged to her feet and began tossing the empty containers into the trash can. Oh, man. She didn’t want to think about how her skin suddenly seemed way too tight for her body, or how her heart was pounding against her chest, or the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.
She wanted…
Okay, that pretty much summed it up.
She wanted. She wanted bad.
“How often do you need to feed?” she demanded, her mushy brain unable to come up with anything better as a distraction.
“It depends on whether I’m wounded, or if I’ve gone without feeding for an extended period of time,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “It also depends on the potency of the blood. A Were’s blood is prized for its rare power. Unfortunately, they prefer not to share with vampires.”
Her Were blood abruptly warmed as it flowed through her veins, as if already anticipating the erotic tug of his fangs.
She instinctively bristled at the troublesome sensations. “Maybe that’s because the vamps have nearly made them extinct by keeping them caged in cramped hunting grounds that have stolen their ancient abilities.”
“Did you drink Salvatore’s Kool-Aid?” he demanded, coolly.
It took a moment for her to realize he was accusing her of being brainwashed.
“No, but he’s very convincing that the vamps are at least partially to blame for the lack of pureblood children.”
Jagr flowed forward, easily sensing her rising desire despite her best attempts to appear indifferent.