His powers were terrifying, his intelligence formidable, and the sheer force of his will could overcome the most fearsome adversaries. But there was no getting away from the fact that he had been well and truly brought to his knees by a bad-tempered, unpredictable, aggravatingly beautiful werewolf. Tucking Regan’s head beneath his chin, Jagr wrapped her tightly in his arms, his gaze ruefully taking in the shards of glass and shattered pictures scattered over the rugs. He never lost control. Certainly not during sex. Not that what he’d just shared with Regan was just sex. It was…hell, he didn’t even have a word for the astonishing sensations that continued to quake through his body. A vampire would sacrifice everything (clan, sanity, his very soul), to claim such joy. Unfortunately, Regan wasn’t anxious to have anyone lay claim to her. Especially not an arrogant, overprotective vampire who had the social skills of a bad-tempered cobra. “Regan…” His soft words were cut short as Regan slapped her hand over his mouth, shifting so she could glare at him with an unexpected annoyance.
