Darkness Unleashed (Guardians of Eternity #5)(35)

Regan didn’t even try to avoid the starkly possessive kiss that stole her words.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he muttered against her lips. “Besides, I know how to silence you when I want.”

“Arrogant jackass.”

“Always.”

With one last burning kiss, he rinsed off the lingering soap, and hauled her out of the water. Then leaving her to dry off with his discarded shirt, he pulled on the faded jeans, a clean black T-shirt (that stretched with oh-my-God results over his wide chest), and a pair of heavy biker boots before disappearing into the outer cave.

Regan had barely managed to wipe off the dampness and pull on her bra and panties when he returned, his brows pulled into a frown as he held out the bags of her new clothing.

“I took half the store and there isn’t one decent shirt in there.”

Well, so much for the considerate lover who had bathed her with such tender care, she wryly acknowledged.

Yanking the bags from his hands, Regan pulled on a pair of hip hugging jeans, then dug through the mound of shirts to pull out a pretty yellow knit top with a scooped neckline and lace about the hem that barely reached her belly button.

Pulling it over her head, she smoothed it down and regarded him with a challenging smile.

“What’s wrong with my shirts?”

He scowled as his gaze studied the tiny top that clung to her curves.

“They’ve all been chopped off at the waist and cut so low you might as well not even bother with them.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the dark ages of keeping women covered from head to toe are long over, chief.” Her eyes narrowed. “And what business is it of yours, anyway?”

He folded his arms over his chest, appearing big and dangerous and…Christ, so heartstoppingly beautiful it made her mouth water.

Damn vampire.

“I…” His words came to an abrupt halt at the same moment that Regan froze—an unmistakable scent floating through the air. “Were,” he growled, turning with impossible grace to flow into the outer cave.

“Salvatore,” Regan clarified, her hackles rising as she followed with less grace and a great deal more stomping.

Stepping into the large cave, Regan ignored Jagr’s attempt to keep her hidden behind his massive form, instead moving so she could have an uninterrupted view as Salvatore Giuliani boldly stepped through the entrance.

As always, the King of Weres was elegantly attired in a designer suit, this one in a slate gray with a matching silk tie and pale ivory shirt. His thick black hair was pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, and his sensuous Latin features were a polished bronze. It was his golden eyes, however, that caught and held attention. They were eyes that held a ruthless intelligence and lethal willingness to do whatever necessary to achieve his goal.

Including tossing her aside like a piece of non-recyclable trash.

Strolling arrogantly into the cave, Salvatore deliberately sniffed the air, the wicked glint in his eyes revealing his awareness of their earlier passion.

“Am I intruding?” he mocked, his voice accented with a hint of Italian. His lips twitched as Jagr regarded him in a frigid silence, his gaze shifting to Regan. “Ah, Regan. As exquisite as ever.”

Regan didn’t hesitate.

“You son of a bitch,” she rasped, launching herself across the cave with a speed that caught both men off guard. Slamming into the startled Were, she knocked him flat on his back and perched on top of his chest, glaring into the too handsome face. “You let Culligan get away.”

The golden eyes glowed, but it was pure male arousal rather than anger that stirred his inner wolf.

“Cristo, you are magnificent. Such a pity you can’t bear me an heir. You would have been a worthy mate.” His smile was slow, seductive. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy each other’s company. You haven’t lived until you’ve been bedded by a pureblood…”

Her eyes narrowed in disgust. “Even think about it and I’ll castrate you.”

His husky laugh echoed through the cave as he gave a mighty shove and rolled Regan beneath him. Now on top, he smiled into her startled eyes.

“Oh, I’m thinking about it.”

He didn’t think about it long.

The cold blast of fury was the only warning before Jagr had Salvatore by the throat, and was shoving him against the wall of the cave.

“Touch her again, dog, and they’ll be finding your body parts from here to New Orleans,” he informed Salvatore in artic tones.

The golden eyes blazed. “Release me, vampire, or you’ll have a war on your hands Styx does not want.”

Indifferent to the threat, Jagr leaned forward, whispering something too low for Regan to catch before abruptly stepping back and releasing his death-hold on the Were.

Salvatore growled low in his throat, but oddly didn’t attack. Instead, he smoothed his hands down his Gucci suit and ensured his tie was still immaculate.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate vampires?” he purred with sweet venom.

Regan rose to her feet, wondering what the hell Jagr had whispered in Salvatore’s ear.

“Why are you here?” Jagr demanded. “I called you to Hannibal to take care of your rabid curs, not to socialize.”

Salvatore met the ancient vampire’s glare without flinching. “I’m here because there’s no proof there are any curs in the area, despite the fact my men have searched for hours. A suspicious Were might begin to conjecture that this is a trap.”