“The silver did a lot of damage.”
Shifting, he stretched out on the mattress, pulling her into his arms so he could hold her close. He paused, waiting to see if she would pull away. When she instead snuggled closer, he swallowed a moan.
This is what fate had intended.
This female completed him in a way he’d never dreamed possible.
“Have they found my sister?” she demanded, her voice thick as she tried to hold back the healing darkness.
“I haven’t spoken with Salvatore or Levet. I doubt if they’ve had time to search yet.” His hand cupped the back of her head as he settled it more firmly against his chest. “Your work is done, little one. You must rest.”
She gathered enough strength to poke him in the side. “You should know better than to give me orders, chief.”
“If you don’t like me giving you orders, then get well enough to get out of this bed and stop me.”
“Bully.”
He dropped a kiss on top her head. “Sleep.”
“Jagr?” she murmured as her eyes drifted shut.
“Yes?”
“Will you stay?”
His heart clenched. This time with Regan was a moment out of time. He intended to savor every second.
“For as long as you need me, little one.”
With a soft sigh, she slung her arm over his body and gave into the inevitable.
Tugging her even closer, Jagr allowed the midnight jasmine to soothe away his lingering pain and heal his wounds. Although he still needed to feed to regain his strength, he realized that the gentle magic in Regan’s touch was swiftly healing the last of his injuries.
Yet more proof she was his intended mate.
Drinking in the bittersweet pleasure of simply holding her close, Jagr didn’t stir as he felt the encroaching presence of Styx.
His respect for the ancient vampire had gone up a great deal over the past few hours.
Not only had Styx remained unruffled as the house had fallen on their heads, but he hadn’t hesitated to trust Jagr to hold back the wall of flames as he calmly blasted a hole in the thick cement and forged a path through the heavy dirt.
It was that trust that had altered something deep inside Jagr.
He hadn’t wanted to be a part of a clan. He didn’t need brothers, or a leader, who cared whether he lived or died.
He just wanted to be alone.
Now he was forced to accept that he’d felt…pride at Styx’s faith in his ability.
Not that he was ready to leap into vampire society. Nor had he forgotten that it was Styx who sent him to Hannibal in the first place.
The cunning old Aztec had a great deal to answer for.
Entering the bedroom, Styx leaned against the doorjamb and studied the two lying on the bed. In the candlelight, his face looked like polished bronze, and his massive form was covered in black leather and sharp weapons.
Jagr impulsively shielded Regan with his larger body. Not that he feared Styx would cause her harm. What little brains he had left understood the Anasso had pledged his life to protect his sister-mate. Still, his instincts refused to be denied.
Thankfully, Styx seemed accustomed to deranged vampires, and with a faint smile, he nodded his head toward the half-hidden woman.
“She’s healing?” he demanded, softly.
“Slowly.”
The harsh expression promised dire retribution on the curs who had dared to hurt Regan.
“So much silver was bound to make her recovery more difficult.” His attention shifted to Jagr. “You could speed the process.”
Jagr tensed. The urge to share his blood with his mate was a vicious force. The means to heal her flowed through his veins, but because of the barriers she’d placed between them, he was unable to share his gift.
“No.”
Styx arched a brow at his sharp refusal. “She’s refused your blood?”
“She’s refused me as her mate.” His icy tone didn’t hide the savage pain. “I won’t force any deeper connection.”
Styx grimaced, realizing that Jagr couldn’t share his blood without completing his half of the mating process.
“Of course.”
Tucking the blanket around Regan’s slender body, Jagr slid from the bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping beauty.
As much as he disliked giving up the rare opportunity to hold Regan without protest, Jagr had a few questions he intended to get answered.
Crossing the room, he stood directly before his king, his arms folded across his chest.
“Why did you send me to Hannibal, my lord?”
Styx met his accusing gaze with a bland smile. “Obviously to rescue my sister-mate. Which reminds me that I have yet to thank you for your services. You have only to name your price…”
“You have a half dozen Ravens who are the finest vampire warriors ever born,” Jagr interrupted, in no mood for games. “Why did you send me?”
“Like me, the Ravens have spent the past centuries hidden from society while protecting the previous Anasso. They are still struggling to learn the skills necessary to pass among the humans, including the latest technology.” His smile widened with genuine amusement. “You should watch them try to use the remote control. You, on the other hand, have made a study of this era.”
Jagr stiffened. He’d never shared his fascination with the MTV generation, and he sure as hell hadn’t announced his occasional forays into the human population.
“How did you know?”
“Viper keeps a close eye on his clan.” Styx shrugged. “Very little escapes his notice.”
Keeping a close eye sounded way too much like spying for Jagr’s peace of mind.
“I didn’t realize that becoming a part of a clan included losing any right to privacy.”
“Viper can be a bit overzealous in his attempts to protect his brothers.”
Jagr snorted. “Meddling mother hen.”
“At least you know he cares.”
“He could care without sticking his nose in my business.”
Styx flashed his rare smile, revealing fangs that could rip through steel.
“Perhaps, but it would not be nearly so much fun.”
Jagr narrowed his eyes at the deliberate goading, then with effort, he gave a shake of his head.
“No, I will not be distracted,” he warned. “Tell me the truth of why I was sent to Hannibal.”
Styx silently toyed with the medallion that hung about his neck, debating just how much he was willing to share.
“It was in part because of your comfort in moving among humans, as well as your skills as a warrior,” he said, at last.