Taking a seat, Regan didn’t even try to pretend she was one of those ridiculously skinny women she watched on TV. Why the hell would she starve herself to please some man?

Savoring the delicious food that had nothing in common with the cheap frozen dinners that Culligan used to feed her, Regan at last realized that Jagr was leaning against the counter watching her with an unwavering intensity.

“What about you?” she demanded, wiping her mouth with a linen napkin. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His brooding gaze slid down to the curve of her neck. “Not for what’s currently on the menu.”

Desire, sharp and biting, clenched her body as Regan surged to her feet and began tossing the empty containers into the trash can. Oh, man. She didn’t want to think about how her skin suddenly seemed way too tight for her body, or how her heart was pounding against her chest, or the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.

She wanted…

Okay, that pretty much summed it up.

She wanted. She wanted bad.

“How often do you need to feed?” she demanded, her mushy brain unable to come up with anything better as a distraction.

“It depends on whether I’m wounded, or if I’ve gone without feeding for an extended period of time,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “It also depends on the potency of the blood. A Were’s blood is prized for its rare power. Unfortunately, they prefer not to share with vampires.”

Her Were blood abruptly warmed as it flowed through her veins, as if already anticipating the erotic tug of his fangs.

She instinctively bristled at the troublesome sensations. “Maybe that’s because the vamps have nearly made them extinct by keeping them caged in cramped hunting grounds that have stolen their ancient abilities.”

“Did you drink Salvatore’s Kool-Aid?” he demanded, coolly.

It took a moment for her to realize he was accusing her of being brainwashed.

“No, but he’s very convincing that the vamps are at least partially to blame for the lack of pureblood children.”

Jagr flowed forward, easily sensing her rising desire despite her best attempts to appear indifferent.

“His grievance has been brought to the Oracles,” he murmured, halting close enough for her to be wrapped in the cool wash of his power. “They will determine the ultimate fate of the Weres.”

Her mouth went dry as her gaze was ruthlessly drawn to all those muscles rippling beneath his too-tight T-shirt. Christ. She should be given a medal for not having him down on the kitchen floor to have her way with him.

“I don’t care how powerful the Oracles are, I won’t be fenced into some sort of Were reservation,” she muttered, referring to the years that the American Weres had been forced to live on land designated by the vampires.

Not that her thoughts were actually focused on the ancient feud between the two species. No, she was far more interested in the temptation of running her fingers through the long, golden hair.

Jagr seemed just as distracted, his eyes warming to a deep blue as his hand lifted to stroke down the curve of her throat.

“The hunting grounds were created as much for the protection of the Weres as for the humans,” he said, his fingers wrecking a path of distraction as they followed the plunging neckline of her shirt. “Without a strong leader, the curs were out of control and attracting far too much attention. The demon-world was preparing for genocide before the previous Anasso stepped in and created the necessary boundaries. If Salvatore can prove he’s capable of taking command of his people, then the Oracles will no doubt step aside and allow him to rule without interference.”

Regan had to remind herself to breathe.

Air in. Air out. Air in. Air out.

“I don’t care who’s in charge as long as they leave me alone.”

His fingers continued to tease and taunt, stroking over the curve of her breasts until her nipples hardened to painful peaks.

“Always supposing that’s possible, what will you do?”

“Enjoy my freedom.”

“It’s more than just freedom.” His hand lifted to cup the nape of her neck, gently messaging her tense muscles. “You’ll have to survive in a world you know very little about.”

She struggled to be annoyed by his patronizing words. Something that would be a hell of a lot easier if she weren’t drowning in a flood of sensuous need.

“I can learn. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re extraordinarily intelligent.” His lips brushed her temple. “Intelligent enough to know that a lone wolf is the most vulnerable. Why not accept the assistance of those who only want to help you?”

She swallowed a groan of pleasure. Damn, that mouth was wicked.

“My beloved sister? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Darcy is not your only option.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “My lair is well protected, although not nearly as elegant as Styx’s estate.”

Regan stilled. “Jagr?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Jagr hesitated, then with a wary expression, he pulled back to meet her shocked gaze.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever shared your lair before?”

“Not willingly, no.”

“Then why would you offer now?”

His lips twisted. “Couldn’t I just be a good guy with a generous heart?”

“Not flipping likely.” She shook her head, strangely disturbed by his unexpected offer. “What do you get out of this?”

“I wish I knew.”

“What?”

His hand slid from her nape to the curve of her lower back, urging her against his stirring hardness. Regan sucked in a ragged breath as his thick cock pressed into the tender flesh of her stomach.

“I know I want you. Desperately,” he said, a fierce hunger flaring through his eyes. “I know that you fascinate me even when you’re behaving like a lunatic.”

“Hey.”

“What I don’t know is why the thought of watching you walk away is…” He grimaced.

“Is what?”

“Unacceptable.”

“Unacceptable?”

“Completely and utterly unacceptable.”

She licked her lips, unnerved by the stark satisfaction that flared through her heart. Surely she couldn’t be pleased by his blatant claim of possession?

“It’s also inevitable,” she forced herself to mutter. “Once Culligan’s dead, I’m out of here.”

His lips twitched as he shifted to lightly scrape his fangs down the line of her throat.

“We’ll see,” he husked, his clever hands grasping the hem of her shirt to pull it off in one smooth motion. Her bra swiftly followed, fluttering to the ceramic tiles. “I can be very persuasive when I want something.”

She made a choked sound as his thumbs brushed over her straining nipples. Holy…crap.

Persuasive?

He was downright mind-blowing.

Desperately trying to latch onto the reason this was a bad idea (and anything that felt so damned good had to be a bad idea), Regan sucked in a deep breath. Unfortunately, Jagr was one step ahead of her and, before she could form a coherent thought, his mouth was skating over the curve of her breast, closing over the tip, as his tongue teased her to near madness.

“Damn you,” she muttered, her fingers shoving into the tempting silk of his hair. He kissed and nibbled his way down her body, peeling away her remaining clothes between caresses.

“No, not damned,” he countered, straightening to meet her dazed gaze with an unreadable expression. “Redeemed.”

With a motion too swift for Regan to anticipate, Jagr swept her off her feet and was moving through the apartment. She barely managed to realize what was happening when she was tossed in the center of the Austin Powers bed, her arms and legs splayed like a sacrificial virgin.

“Jagr.”

Kicking off his heavy boots, Jagr pulled the T-shirt over his head and dropped his jeans to reveal the breathtaking glory of his male form.

“Yes, little one?” he demanded, lowering to cover her with the cool weight of his body.

She lifted her hands to push him away, only something went wrong. Instead of shoving against the hard planes of his chest, her fingers were stroking over the pale skin so ruthlessly marred by his scars.

“Shouldn’t we be planning what we intend to do next?” she demanded, her voice a husky rasp.

Lowering his head, Jagr nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “I know exactly what I intend to do next.”

An exquisite shudder shook her body. Oh, Lord, she hoped that his intentions included spreading her legs and finishing what he’d started.

Suddenly, she no longer cared that Culligan was out there still alive and breathing…the bastard. Or that there was a pack of demented curs that might or might not be hunting her.

Or even that Jagr’s determined seduction might very well be an elaborate scheme to lure her back to Chicago and into Darcy’s trap.

Sometimes a woman had to have her priorities in order.