The pale features twisted with hate. “Go screw yourself, freak.”
Regan didn’t hesitate as she yanked the dagger free and plunged it back in. This time directly into the heart.
The woman would rather die than betray Caine, and Regan wasn’t about to waste any more time.
“This is for Jagr,” she muttered as the dagger hit the cur’s heart.
She didn’t wait to watch Sadie die.
The silver would eventually do its thing, even if the cur managed to pull out the dagger, and Regan was far more interested in reaching Jagr.
Dripping blood from a half dozen wounds, Regan reached the back terrace when she heard an eerie laugh behind her.
Against her will, her feet halted and her head turned to see Sadie, crawling the short distance to her shredded clothing, pulling a pistol from the tattered pile of leather.
Stupidly, all Regan could think about was how the hell the woman had managed to hide a gun. The freaking outfit had been stretched so tight that not even a prayer could have come between leather and skin.
Then it no longer mattered where Sadie had stashed the gun.
Smiling with cruel intent, the cur pulled the trigger. Over and over.
“And this is for me.”
Regan was quick, but there was no dodging the bullets that drilled into her torso, shattering ribs and puncturing her lungs.
The force of the projectiles dropped Regan to her knees, her breathing labored, the pain ripping through her with relentless force.
“Shit,” she whispered as her life began to drain from her body.
The bullets had been coated in silver.
Chapter 20
Jagr felt like hell.
It might have been because he’d just survived an explosion, had a tea shop fall on his head, and was forced to dig a tunnel to avoid becoming charcoaled.
It might have been.
But it wasn’t.
For all his lingering wounds, his current suffering was entirely due to the woman lying on the bed in Tane’s lair.
Perched on the edge of the mattress, Jagr gently stroked his fingers through Regan’s golden hair, his gaze compulsively running over her too-slender form that he’d stripped down to the tiny bra and panties so he could keep a constant surveillance on her numerous injuries.
The gashes from the whip had healed before they had returned to the lair (not soon enough to ease Jagr’s fury at the thought of Regan being flayed by the damned cur), but the bullet wounds remained angry red lesions that made his gut twist with pain.
Silver-plated bullets.
If Sadie hadn’t already been dead, Jagr would have torn her apart limb by limb.
Without warning, Regan stirred beneath his fingers, and abruptly realizing his frigid power was blasting through the room, he hurriedly smothered his fury and leaned down to brush his lips over her temple in silent apology.
“Jagr.”
He pulled back just far enough to watch her lids flutter upward, revealing her pain-dazed eyes.
“I’m here, little one.”
“The explosion…” Her voice was a low, tortured rasp. “I thought…”
He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You thought you were rid of me? No such luck, I fear.”
An echo of remembered horror darkened her eyes. “Gods, don’t even joke. How did you get out of the house?”
“Vampires possess the ability to call the earth.”
“Call the earth?”
His lips twisted. The words made the skill sound pompously grand. In truth, it was a talent that allowed vampires to soften and shift the ground to cover themselves during the day, or more often, to hide the remains of their latest meal.
“We dug a tunnel,” he said dryly.
“Oh.” Her brows drew together as her gaze lowered to the burns that still marred his neck. He needed to feed and rest before he could fully heal, but his concern for Regan overrode any thought of his own injuries. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing that won’t be healed in a few hours.”
“You need to feed.”
“Soon.”
She frowned at his vague reply, but wise enough to recognize the bleak set of his features, she resisted any urge to lecture him.
“What about Styx?” she instead demanded.
“He’s recovering.”
There was a long silence as Regan drifted in and out of consciousness, then with an obvious effort, she forced her eyes open.
“How did you survive?”
He smiled wryly at the shocking desire to share how he endured the crushing weight of the building as it fell on his head, and how he used his powers to hold off the worst of the flames while Styx carved a path through the hard packed earth.
Like he was a boasting playa in a singles bar.
Pathetic.
“The initial blast knocked out the floor and we dropped into the basement before the actual explosion swept through the house,” he murmured, keeping his tone light. “We were able to avoid most of the flames.”
Her eyes narrowed, easily able to sense there was more to the story than he revealed, but before she could grill him, her eyes widened abruptly, and she struggled to sit up.
“Sadie,” she rasped.
He pressed her back onto the pillow with a gentle but relentless hand.
“You don’t have to worry about the cur. She’s gone.”
“Gone.” Her distress only deepened. “She’s going to warn Caine. You have to stop her.”
He cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing the satin skin of her cheek in a soothing motion.
“You made certain that Sadie won’t be talking with anyone but the grim reaper.”
“She’s dead?”
“Yes.”
There was a beat, then the green eyes flashed with unmistakable satisfaction.
“Good.”
Unable to resist, Jagr bent down to lightly brush his lips over her brow. He loved that fire that burned deep inside her.
The fire of a survivor.
“I agree, but I would have preferred you would have killed her before letting her shoot you full of silver bullets,” he murmured.
“Me, too. They hurt like a bitch.” She shifted to glance down at her chest, frowning as she caught sight of the lingering wounds. “Are they out?”
The air chilled as he fought back the memories of cutting the bullets from her broken body. The image would be seared into his mind for all eternity.
“I removed them before we brought you back to Tane’s.”
“How long have we been here?”
“A few hours.”
She frowned. “I should be healed, shouldn’t I?”