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close enough to torment him with the scent of her freshly scrubbed skin and hot blood.
    His arms tightened around her legs as she continued to struggle. “This is no game, little one. I was commanded by my Anasso to bring you to Chicago, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
    “I thought my sister was the one who sent you?”
    “Darcy wants you in Chicago, and Styx wants Darcy happy. It’s the way of mates.”
    The blows to his back abruptly halted. “And what about your mate? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled with this little road trip of yours.”
    Jagr halted before the entrance to the cave, abruptly setting the aggravating demon on her feet.
    “I have no mate.”
    Something flashed through her eyes. Relief? Uncertainty? Indigestion?
    Whatever it was, she was swift to squash it as she shoved her fingers through her damp hair.
    “No mate? What a shocker.” Her smile was taunting. “With your stunning lack of charm and habit of treating women like you’re a Neanderthal, I would have thought the demon babes would be crawling all over you.”
    Jagr’s fangs throbbed, his heavy erection ached, and his mood was taking a southward dip toward foul.
    “It’s not the lack of females that has prevented me from taking a mate,” he icily denied.
    “Then what is it?”
    “My lack of interest in those females.”
    “As if. Men like you…”
    Jagr was bending down his head and sealing her lips with a brief, searing kiss before he could halt the impulse. Perhaps because for the first time in centuries, his brutal self-control was being undermined by a tiny wisp of a Were with the tongue of a drunken harpy and the manners of rabid badger.
    Abruptly lifting his head, he met her stunned gaze.
    “Why the hell do you keep doing that?” she muttered, her cheeks flushed with a heat she couldn’t hide.
    Jagr growled deep in his throat. “If I knew, I would no doubt be falling on the nearest stake.”
    The emerald eyes flashed. “That can be arranged.”
    “There you are.” Stomping from the cave, Levet regarded them with a jaundiced frown, his wings twitching in aggravation. “I thought you’d abandoned me. Again.”
    Jagr swallowed a snarl, resisting the urge to toss the gargoyle into the river below. His body might howl at the interruption, but the pea-sized part of his brain that was still functioning realized that he was allowing himself to be perilously distracted by his strange fascination with Regan.
    Gods, he was going to get them both killed.
    “Levet, I need your help,” he commanded in frigid tones, allowing his warrior instincts to drown his seething frustration.
    “Of course you do.” Levet smirked. “You run off and do whatever vampires do, and I will be happy to keep Regan safe.”
    As if Jagr would allow Regan out of his sight for a second. Stupid demon.
    “I need you to track down the local cur pack.”
    “Oh, I see.” Levet narrowed his gaze. “I’m to do the grunt work while you get to stay with the beautiful woman. Typical.”
    “I suspect that the curs have a demon or witch who is helping to keep them hidden.”
    “And what does that have to do with me?”
    “You’re the only one capable of sensing magic.”
    Levet sputtered, wanting to argue but unable to deny the truth. At last he threw up his hands in defeat.
    “ Sacrebleu . Fine, I will do it.”
    “When you find the pack, do not approach them,” Jagr warned. “I don’t want them spooked before I discover why they were shooting at us, and what connection they have to the imp.”
    “Fine, but I expect payment for trailing after a bunch of stinking curs.”
    Jagr grasped one of the stunted horns and hauled Levet up to glare into his wide eyes.
    “Your payment is that you get to keep your wings. Understood?”
    “Hey, let go.”
    Jagr dropped the demon back to the ground. “Don’t return until you’ve found the curs.”
    “Goth bully.” With a flick of his tail, Levet turned to waddle away.
    Jagr grimaced. No doubt