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.

Already she could feel her energy returning. Within a few days she would be well enough to strike out on her own.

That’s all that mattered.

And that hollow place in the center of her heart…

Well, that was one of those prices she had to pay.

“You lost me at Shalott,” she said, anxious to distract her dark thoughts.

“Don’t worry, you’ll meet everyone in time. Including our mother. She’s…” Darcy paused to clear her throat. “Perhaps I should let you decide for yourself.”

Christ, she’d forgotten there was a mother hovering in the background.

“That sounds ominous.”

Darcy shrugged. “Just expect more Sharon Osbourne than June Cleaver.”

“I don’t expect anything.” Regan made her tone deliberately firm. The last thing she wanted was meeting a whole posse of vampire mates who were no doubt deliriously happy. Not to mention a mother she didn’t want. “I won’t be around long enough to meet her.”

There was a pause as Darcy struggled to disguise her disappointment.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, you know, places to go, people to see.”

Regan tried to lighten the atmosphere, but Darcy’s expression remained somber.

“I hope you’ll feel as if this is your home now, Regan. There’s no hurry for you to leave.”

“No hurry?” Regan couldn’t hide her shudder. “I’ve been stuck in a cage for the past thirty years. I need…”

“What?”

“To feel free.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side. “And you can’t do that here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Regan.” Once again Darcy reached out to grasp Regan’s hand, as if she needed the physical contact. “Styx told me about Caine. How he kidnapped us when we were just babies.”

Regan stiffened at the mention of the cur who’d ruined her life.

“Bastard.”

“Yes, but my point is that you weren’t abandoned by your family. If I had known you were out there and in trouble…”

“Darcy, I don’t blame you for what happened,” Regan interrupted the soft words.

Darcy frowned. “Then why do you want to leave?”

Regan sighed, struggling to find the words to explain the annoying sensation of panic that wouldn’t leave her in peace.

“Because I’ve been a prisoner all my life. I’m not ready for any more chains.”

“Chains?”

She squeezed Darcy’s fingers, sensing her sister’s pain at the stumbled explanation.

“I’m sorry, but the thought of a family and home feels like shackles to me. I need space to discover who I am, and who I can be.”

“Then I will try to be patient, dear sister,” Darcy ruefully conceded defeat. “But I’m going to warn you that it won’t be easy.”

Regan licked her lips, studying Darcy’s unmistakable air of contentment.

“Don’t you ever feel trapped?”

“Trapped? Never.” Shock widened the eyes so similar to Regan’s. “Styx completes me.”

A pang of unmistakable envy clenched Regan’s heart. God, why couldn’t she let it be that simple?

Why couldn’t she just accept what others were so willing to offer?

She restlessly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have no right to pry.”

“You’re not prying, and even if you were, you have every right. We’re family.” Darcy smiled sweetly. “Regan, you have to understand, my childhood was one of constant loneliness and the fear I would never truly belong anywhere. I didn’t know what I was or why I was so different, so I could never let anyone close, in case they realized I was…abnormal. And then Styx came crashing into my life, and I learned that I was a Were, if a rather dysfunctional one. I also learned I wasn’t alone. There are all sorts of wonderful, weird, and wacky demons in the world.”

Regan snorted. “We can at least agree to that.”

“I, at last, have a family who loves me exactly as I am, and it’s everything to me.” Darcy leaned down to brush a light kiss on Regan’s troubled brow. “I want you to share in that joy.”

Regan’s heart gave another twist of envy. “Perhaps someday.”

“You’re tired.” Slipping off the bed, Darcy tucked the covers around Regan’s shivering body. “We can speak later.”

Regan snuggled into the pillows. “Thank you.”

Darcy crossed the room, pausing at the door. “Regan, always know you have a place with me.”

Regan gave an absent nod, but she knew her place wasn’t here.

But if not here, then where?

Wrapped in the icy composure that had held his demons at bay for centuries, Jagr followed Tane’s shadowed form through the dark trees that lined the Mississippi River.

It wasn’t that his soul didn’t howl for Regan, who’d been carted off to Chicago hours ago. Or that his instincts weren’t raw with the need to follow her and force the bond that pulsed through his blood.

But his past had taught him the necessary skills to survive even the most brutal pain.

Until he could return to his lair and lick his wounds in private, he would simply endure.

As always.

Walking a step ahead of Jagr, Tane came to a sudden halt, holding up his hand as he scented the damp night air.

“Hold,” he warned, his voice audible only to another vampire. “Curs. One of them dead.”

Jagr stepped beside his companion. They had been searching for Salvatore along the banks of the Mississippi for the past three hours.

It was about damned time they caught a break.

“Hess,” Jagr growled, recognizing the pungent scent.

Tane’s nose flared in disgust. The Charon had little love for dogs.

“You know them?”

“Salvatore’s mangy courtiers.” Jagr sent his senses flowing through the isolated area, a frown touching his brow. “But no Salvatore. Interesting.”

Tane grunted as four fully shifted curs came crashing through the trees.

“Or lethal.”

Jagr released a blast of frigid power, knocking the charging animals backwards.

“Stand down, dogs,” he snapped.

The curs snapped and snarled in frustration, but as they slowly realized they were no match for two powerful vampires, they at last shimmered and shifted back to human form.

It was the hulking, bald-headed cur who took charge, glaring at Jagr as he stood completely naked among the tangled underbrush.

“Where’s our king?” he rasped, sounding more wolf than human.

“Do I look like a nanny for a damned Were?” Tane drawled, absently twirling the large silver dagger he held in his hand. “You’re his guard. Isn’t it your job to keep track of him?”