“Not Jagr, I’m afraid. Just a sister who has longed to meet you.”
Cracking her eyes open a bare slit, Regan stilled as she caught sight of the tiny heart-shaped face that was all too familiar.
Christ.
The woman looked just like her. Same blond hair, although Darcy’s was cut short and spiked. The same green eyes. The same slender body. Even the same stubborn line of their jaw.
Twins without a doubt, but Regan suspected that the two of them would never be mistaken for one another.
It would take only a glance at Darcy’s serene expression and sweet smile to recognize the difference.
There was nothing serene or sweet about Regan.
Careful not to jar her aching head, Regan scooted up the pile of pillows and glanced around the gold and ivory room that seemed to go on forever.
Holy crap.
Everything was big.
Big and shiny.
Polished marble walls. Gilded furnishings. Cut crystal chandeliers. Hell, there was enough glitz and glitter to please Elton John.
Obviously Darcy liked her bling.
Regan…well, not so much.
Maybe it was her years of living in a trashy RV, but she felt unnerved lying beneath the cupids that danced across the vaulted ceiling. Talk about Versailles overkill.
“Where am I?”
Seeming almost as out of place among the elegance as Regan felt, Darcy tucked her feet beneath her as she settled more comfortably on the mattress. Certainly she didn’t dress like a queen. Not with those faded jeans and oversized T-shirt.
“Styx brought you to Chicago so you could heal in safety.”
“This is your home?”
“Yes.” Darcy chewed her bottom lip, studying Regan’s tight expression. “Please don’t be angry with Styx. He only did what he thought best.”
Yeah, big surprise there. Regan had known she was going to be hauled to Chicago the moment she called Styx and requested his help.
Everything had a price.
That didn’t mean she had to like it.
“And he didn’t consider asking my opinion?” she demanded dryly.
“You’ve spent the past few days in the company of a vampire.” Darcy wrinkled her nose. “When do they ever ask for another’s opinion?”
Well, hell, how could she argue with that logic? She rolled her eyes.
“I suppose there’s always a chance hell will freeze over.”
“A very remote chance.”
Regan tilted her chin. “He should have at least waited until I was conscious.”
Reaching out, Darcy grasped Regan’s hand in a warm grasp. “The blame is mine, Regan. Styx knew how desperate I was to have you here, and he doesn’t mind trampling over anyone in his quest to please me. I swear, a mated vampire should have to wear a blinking warning sign for the safety of others.”
Mated vampire.
The image of a huge, blond, ruthlessly beautiful Visigoth chief scorched through her mind.
Regan flinched. She’d tried so hard to ignore the looming thoughts of Jagr.
So stupid.
He was a two hundred and fifty pound gorilla squatting smack-dab in the middle of her brain. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until she knew he was all right.
“I suppose Jagr is here as well?” She tossed out the words as if she couldn’t care less.
“Jagr?” Darcy frowned at the unexpected question. “Actually, I think he stayed in Hannibal to try and discover if Salvatore has any clues to finding our sister.”
“Oh.” Her gut twisted with disappointment. He wasn’t even in Chicago. She hadn’t seen that coming.
As if sensing Regan’s distress, Darcy tugged a rolling table closer to the bed, and whipped aside the linen cloth that was covering it.
“I brought a tray. I thought you might be hungry after your healing.”
“I’m starving,” Regan admitted, knowing she needed to eat to regain her strength. Turning her head toward the tray, she grunted in disbelief. “Good God.”
Darcy laughed. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
Regan studied the mounds of eggs, ham, pancakes, fresh fruit, toast, fried potatoes, sausage links, and warm biscuits.
“So you brought everything?”
“I want you to feel at home, Regan.”
Meeting the warm, welcoming gaze, Regan squirmed in discomfort. Dammit. Her sister was the sort of charming, captivating, completely adorable woman you couldn’t help but love. But Regan didn’t want to love her sister. Or feel the growing connection.
“I…”
“Eat,” Darcy firmly interrupted. “You’ll feel better.”
Guilt and something that might’ve been misery swirled through her heart, reminding Regan of why she avoided emotional complications. She was bound to disappoint Darcy.
And Jagr.
Blinking back ridiculous tears, Regan took a plate and filled it with a large helping of the eggs and ham and sausage. She would need protein to finish healing the last of her wounds that remained an angry red beneath the satin nightgown.
Freaking silver.
She still felt as weak as a newborn babe.
Strangely vulnerable, Regan wolfed down her food, her eyes darting about the monstrosity of a bedroom rather than meeting Darcy’s worried gaze.
“Yes, I know. It’s outrageous, isn’t it?” Darcy murmured, her hand sweeping to indicate the acres of gilt and ivory. “And as hard as it is to believe, the rest of the mansion is even worse.”
“It’s certainly not what I’m used to.”
“Me either. I grew up in the streets, and Styx lived in a damp cave for centuries.” She softly chuckled. “The poor man tiptoes through the place as if he’s terrified he’s going to break something.”
Draining a glass of orange juice, Regan shot her sister a puzzle glance.
“If you don’t like it, why do you live here?”
“Viper convinced me that the King of Vampires should own a suitably impressive lair. Someday I’m going to repay him for his helpful suggestion.” A small, dangerous smile curved her mouth. “Although I might give the honor to Shay. She does a fine job of punishing him when necessary.”
“Shay?”
“His mate. She’s a Shalott demon and quite capable of keeping her clan chief in line.” Darcy’s smile widened. “You’re going to love her. And of course there’s Abby, who is mated to Dante. She’s a goddess. Oh, and Anna is an Oracle, she’s mated to Cezar.”
Regan polished off the last of the food and returned the plate to the tray, sinking back into the pillows with a small sigh of contentment.