Darkness Unleashed (Guardians of Eternity #5)(70)

“Where?”

She frowned. “What?”

He snapped his teeth with impatience. “Never mind. I will find them on my own.”

Whirling on his heel, Jagr headed for the open door. His rage pulsed and the bloodlust still thundered through his body. He needed to kill. And if he didn’t want it to be the woman in front of him, then he needed other prey.

The curs would do just fine.

The woman called out, but he ignored her plea to remain. He was a vampire on the hunt, and anything foolish enough to cross his path was dead.

Four long strides took him through the outer chamber and to the narrow flight of stone steps. Those he consumed in two swift bounds. A wooden door blocked his path at the top of the stairs, but one swing of his arm smashed through the fragile barrier.

Splinters flew through the air, spreading before Jagr as he stepped through the mangled frame. There was a yip as a cur keeping guard was hit with the small, but painful missiles. A yip that became a howl of agonized pain as Jagr grabbed him by the hair and tossed him across what appeared to be a kitchen.

Jagr watched the slender man smack painfully into the wall, leaving a trail of blood as he crumpled to the floor. The cur lived, but before Jagr could concentrate on yanking the bastard’s heart out, there was the sound of footsteps from outside the house.

Bending down, Jagr yanked out the silver-bladed daggers he always kept hidden in his boots. A part of him might relish the thought of ripping apart his enemies with his bare hands, but bloodlust didn’t equal stupidity.

Until he knew just how many curs were prowling around the place, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

There was a low snarl and Jagr listened as one of the approaching sets of footsteps shifted from two legs to four. Jagr widened his stance, a dagger clutched in each hand, his lips pulling back to reveal his lethal fangs.

Showtime.

The shifted cur entered first, crashing through a set of French doors that led to a back terrace. It was large by cur standards, the height of a good-sized pony and thickly muscled beneath the shaggy brown fur. But it was the long, razor sharp teeth that could slice through bone that was the true danger. Even a vampire could be killed if his head was snapped off.

There was another snarl as the cur launched his heavy body directly at Jagr. The brainless animal was too far gone to have the sense to realize it was a suicide mission.

Which suited Jagr just fine.

Braced for the impact, he barely moved when the cur smashed into his body. Instead, he easily avoided the teeth aimed at his throat and slid the two daggers deep into the beast’s chest.

The glowing eyes of the cur widened, a death rattle in its throat the only sound it made as it slid off the daggers and tumbled backward. He was changed back to a man, a very dead man, by the time he hit the floor.

Jagr had no time to admire his handiwork as two more curs appeared through the destroyed French door, both rushing forward in unison.

With deadly accuracy, Jag threw one of the daggers. It spun through the air, end over end, shimmering with brilliant flares of silver as the slanting moonlight caught it. The charging cur, stuck midway in his shift to wolf, had no chance to avoid the blade as it sunk deep into his chest.

The second attacker screamed in fury as his companion dropped to the ground. But he did, astonishingly, have enough sense to avoid a direct attack.

Slowly circling Jagr, the cur battled his instinctive need to shift. His eyes glowed and his skin rippled as his wolf struggled to free itself.

Jagr flashed a taunting smile. “Are we going to dance or fight, dog?”

The cur snapped his teeth, reaching beneath his shirt to pull out a large handgun.

“In a rush to die, vampire?”

“Not before dinner.”

With a slow grin, Jagr released his coiled power. The frigid blast exploded through the room, knocking pans from the shelves and shattering the windows. The remaining cur screamed as he was tossed through the air and pinned to the wall by the tangible force.

Ignoring the bullets that his enemy desperately fired in his direction, Jagr prowled forward. He could easily kill the cur with his powers. Or even with the dagger still clutched in his hand.

His bloodlust, however, demanded more.

With a surge of desperate hunger, Jagr grabbed the cur by the hair and jerked his head to one side. There was the sound of someone calling his name, and the tantalizing scent of midnight jasmine, but he was too far gone to be distracted.

His fangs ached for soft flesh and warm blood. Nothing less would satisfy him now.

Roaring his victory, Jagr struck with painful force, his teeth sinking deep into the cur’s throat.

The man briefly struggled, dropping the now empty gun as he pummeled Jagr’s chest. Jagr didn’t even feel the blows. Not with the rich, soothing taste of blood filling his mouth and the potent heat washing away the lingering effects of the hexes.

It took a few minutes to actually drain the cur dry, although his struggles ended after only a few deep sucks.

At last dropping the lifeless body to the floor, Jagr roared as the power rushed through him.

Although not a full demon, the cur’s blood was far more potent than a mere human, bringing with it a satisfying rush that eased the black rage.

Shuddering in relief, Jagr allowed the madness to recede. Slowly, the red haze dissipated from his mind, clearing his thoughts and relaxing the knotted muscles.

As the fog lifted, he glanced around the ruined kitchen with a frown.