“Fine,” he grudgingly conceded. What was the point in arguing? Regan would do what she wanted. Always.
And in some twisted way, it was what he admired most about her.
Irony, indeed.
“Besides, it all worked out for the best,” she pointed out. “Now we can at least hope my sister can be rescued.”
Well, that was true enough. Jagr scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling weary despite his recent feeding of the cur.
A small part of him wished he’d managed to pack his bag and return to the sanctity of his lair. Every moment spent in Regan’s company was bound to deepen the sense of loss when she disappeared from his world.
But even as the cowardly thought flared through his mind, he was dismissing it.
So long as this beautiful Were had need of him, he would stand at her side.
Pitiful, but true.
With a restless shake of his head, Jagr headed toward the door to the outer rooms.
“We must share this information with Styx.”
“Jagr.”
Halting, he glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
She licked her lips, strangely uncertain. As if she struggled with some inner demon.
At last she gave a jerky shake of her head.
“Never mind.”
Jagr bit back his curse of impatience. He might not be the most perceptive vampire, but he did learn from his mistakes. And trying to press Regan would only make her dig in her heels deeper.
A knowledge that did nothing to ease his temper as he stormed from the rooms and went in search of his Anasso.
Following the unmistakable scent of power, Jagr moved through the surveillance rooms to a large library, complete with plasma TV. Not surprisingly, Styx was engrossed in a rare book on the history of the Huguenots rather than watching Cinemax. The ancient vampire had never possessed Jagr’s interest in the ever changing society, and it was only because he was determined to please his new mate that he wasn’t still living in a damp cavern without one modern convenience.
As Jagr stepped through the door, Styx was on his feet, his lifted brow revealing he was well aware of his companion’s tangled emotions, although he was smart enough not to comment.
Instead he listened in silence as Jagr revealed Duncan’s attempted negotiations with the Weres, and the cur’s promise he could reveal the location of Regan’s missing sister.
As he finished, Styx pulled a cell phone from his pocket and swiftly dialed Salvatore’s number.
Absently, Jagr listened to the short, tense argument, his body flaring with awareness as he felt Regan entering the room behind him.
He deliberately kept his gaze on Styx’s imposing form as she halted beside him, not that it mattered. She had only to be near for him to drown in her jasmine-scented presence.
With an audible snap, Styx closed his phone and stuffed it into the pocket of his leather pants. Perhaps not surprisingly, Regan took a step closer to Jagr.
Styx was overwhelming under the best of circumstances. With the scowl marring his stark features, and his massive body tense with annoyance, any creature not brain-dead would be wary.
Either unaware, or simply ignoring the prickles in the air, Styx lifted a hand to smooth over the raven hair he’d pulled into a braid that hung nearly to his knees.
Darcy was never going to drag the proud vampire fully into the twenty-first century.
“The meeting with Duncan is set for dawn,” Styx revealed, his voice hard. “He refused to offer the location.”
“Refused?” Jagr shook his head. “Arrogant dog.”
Styx grimaced. “He has proclaimed it Were business and I have no authority to interfere, although Darcy may have a different opinion when I tell her.”
“Good God, you actually listen to your mate’s opinion?” Regan demanded, her tone overly sweet.
Jagr frowned, but Styx seemed to find the jab amusing. “Believe me, it was a hard-earned talent,” he admitted with a low chuckle.
Jagr’s frown deepened as he glared at his king. Traitor.
“Do you intend to return to Chicago?”
Styx briefly closed his eyes, testing the air. “It is too late to make the journey tonight,” he concluded, opening his eyes. “And I would prefer to clean up any loose ends before leaving.”
Jagr gave a dip of his head. “Speaking of loose ends, I have an imp to track down.”
“The dawn is only two hours away,” Styx warned.
Jagr patted one of the numerous daggers strapped to his body. “This won’t take long.”
“I will join you.” Styx took a step forward. “Once the imp is dead, we can search the cabin that Regan found. It could be the remaining curs have returned there.”
“Which means you’ll need me if you want to find the place,” Regan said, a smug smile curving her lips.
“There’s no need. We can follow your trail,” Jagr said, unable to halt the futile words even as Regan was sticking a finger in his face.
“Don’t even start. I’m coming.”
The two stood there, glaring at one another, until Styx moved forward to slap Jagr on the back.
“I would suggest you let it go, old friend,” Styx warned, leaving the room.
Jagr didn’t concede defeat as much as give into the inevitable. Regan was a force of nature he didn’t know how to control.
In silence, he followed Styx out of the lair and to the waiting Porsche parked in the circle drive. He even managed to hold his tongue as Regan climbed into the back, and he took his position in the passenger seat.
He’d barely shut the door when Styx revved the powerful engine and hurtled them through the empty streets, his lips twisted in what Jagr strongly suspected was a smile of amusement.
What the hell happened to vampire solidarity?
Bastard.
At least the car was able to make the trip at a pace just short of light speed, and directing Styx through the back roads, he at last held up his hand.
“Stop here.” He pointed toward the frilly house on the corner. “The tea shop is just ahead.”
The Porsche came to a halt, and they climbed out to stand in the shadows of a dogwood tree.
A dogwood that was currently decorated with a familiar, albeit considerably worse for the wear, truck.
Styx studied the ruined vehicle with a lift of his brows. “Tane’s?”
“It was.” Jagr glanced toward Regan, who was looking decidedly guilty. “Your handiwork?”
“Hey, I’d never driven before.” She gave an awkward lift of her shoulder. “Besides, it was already a piece of junk.”