Most who met him assumed he must live in a dungeon, complete with chains.
“Wait, Jagr, I want to see…”
He cut off her words with a brief, desperate kiss. “Later.”
“But…”
He kissed her again. Longer. Deeper.
“Much later,” he whispered, pulling back to watch in satisfaction as her eyes darkened with ready passion.
Reaching the back of the lair, he pressed open the thick door to his bedroom and crossed directly to the low, wide bed draped in gold satin sheets and a thick fur cover. On the walls, twelfth century tapestries glowed in the candlelight, hiding the heavy cabinets that held his lethal collection of daggers, swords, spears, and handguns.
Not exactly the most romantic setting, but Regan didn’t seem to notice as she smiled up at him with a slow, wicked temptation.
Bracing one knee on the edge of the bed, he bent over her and tugged the ribbon from her hair. Flames licked through his blood as he threaded his fingers through the golden strands, his gaze skimming over her slender curves.
“Blessed gods, you are so beautiful.”
Her smile widened as she reached up, and with unexpected strength, ripped the T-shirt from his body.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the scars that crisscrossed his torso.
He shuddered, his fangs extending and his body hardening in all the right places.
“I’ve always heard that love is blind. Now I’m certain of it.”
“Don’t play coy.” Her fingers trailed a path of fire down the hard planes of his stomach, popping the button of his jeans and easing down the zipper. Jagr growled in approval. She was a woman in charge. And he liked it. “You know very well you make women all hot and bothered.”
Him?
Well, hell. If she wanted to believe he was some sort of babe magnet, then so be it.
Kicking off his heavy boots, Jagr rid himself of the jeans and climbed on the bed to pull Regan into his arms.
He had once cursed a fate that offered nothing but cruelty and stark loneliness. Now he could only marvel at his extraordinary stroke of fortune.
Skimming his hands over her warm, deliciously shaped body, he removed her far too short shorts and far too tight shirt, briefly appreciating the matching bra and panties before they too were tossed onto the floor.
Once she was exposed in all her glory, he forced himself to slow his pace, his fingers savoring the sensation of her smooth, ivory skin.
“Are you all hot and bothered?” he husked.
Her arms lifted to circle around his neck, her breath unsteady as his roaming fingers stroked up the curve of her breast.
“I’m getting there.”
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips down the line of her nose, then gently teased the corner of her mouth.
“Regan, you’re certain?” he forced himself to ask. “Once we’re mated, I won’t be able to let you go.”
Painful regret flared through her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jagr.”
“There’s no need for apologies. You did what you needed to do.”
“No, I was big, freaking coward.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t proving I could make it on my own. I was running from my feelings because they terrified me.”
He pulled back with a frown. “Terrified?”
“I know how to be alone. I’m pretty good at it.” A wistful smile touched her lips as her hands glided down his back. “I don’t know anything about being a mate or sister.”
A groan was wrenched from his throat as he planted a path of kisses down her jaw, and at last buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“We’ll figure it out together,” he promised softly.
She deliberately rubbed against the heavy length of his erection. “Mmmm. I like the sound of that.”
Oh, he liked more than just the sound of it.
He liked the feel and taste and…
A vicious hunger gripped him and with an unsteady hand, he tugged aside her hair, baring her throat.
“I need to taste you, little one,” he rasped, his voice thick. “I want to be your mate.”
He expected her to hesitate. Even to pull away.
After all, he was demanding nothing less than her heart and soul.
Instead, she plunged her fingers into the thickness of his hair and urged him even closer.
“Now, Jagr.”
The soft prompting pushed him over the edge, searing away his last trace of common sense.
He’d waited over a thousand years to find his mate.
He wasn’t going to wait another moment.
Tilting her chin, Jagr bared his fangs and allowed them to sink into her sweet, vulnerable flesh. Oh…gods. He closed his eyes as the rich, potent elixir hit his tongue and slid down his throat.
The taste of Regan’s blood was just as erotic, just as intoxicating as he remembered.
But this time it was more.
More than nourishment. More than a means to heal his wounds. Even more than sex.
It was dazzling magic that swirled through his body and tingled through his blood. As if the very essence of Regan was flooding through him, melding and altering him until they coalesced into one.
Beneath him, he felt Regan tremble, her moan of pleasure echoing through the room.
“Jagr.” Her nails bit into his back, her voice ragged. “I need you.”
Eager and willing to fulfill her every desire, Jagr unlatched from her throat, gently licking closed the two small puncture wounds before scattering kisses down her collarbone and over the swell of her breast.
“Your every wish is my command, my love,” he assured her as he shifted to settle between her legs. “For now and always.”
Her hands clutched his lips, her creamy skin flushed with need. “A dangerous promise, chief.”
He gazed deep into the slumberous emerald eyes, capable of feeling the sharp ache of her desire.
“You don’t scare me, Were.”
“No? Maybe you should…”
Her words broke off with a low groan as he surged into her damp heat. Pure sensation jolted through him, clenching his muscles and heating him to the very marrow. For a moment he halted to simply relish being so intimately bound together.
“I should do this?” he breathed as he lowered his head to plunder her soft lips. “And maybe this?” Slowly he pulled back his hips and once again thrust deep inside her.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed.
A growl was wrenched from his throat as she lifted her hips and his c**k sank to the heart of her. So close to perfect.
So. Very. Close.