“I’m bored.”

“Then go pester the fishes.” He puffed out his chest. “I am on important business.”

“What kind of business would a miniature gargoyle have? Are you hunting leprechauns?” she mocked, her laughter tinkling through the night air. “Oh, I know, I know. You’re hunting hobbits.”

“Very amusing…not.” Clenching his claws, Levet resumed his trek through the mud. “I happen to be hunting a very dangerous, very cunning imp.”

“Imp?” She kept pace with his angry stride. “There’s no imp around here.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

Levet threw his hands in the air. “I smell him, you annoying creature.”

“The only thing that’s gone past here besides a raccoon was a cur.”

“A cur.” Levet halted in shock. “You are certain?”

Pleased to have his full attention, Bella ran a tempting hand through her hair. “I know a dog when I see one. He was far more handsome than you, but covered in blood.” She grimaced. “Bleck.”

A cur covered in blood?

Had one of them been injured?

And why did they smell like an imp…

Levet smacked his forehead with his clenched claw.

“Sacrebleu.” Smack, smack. “I have been such a fool.”

“Well, your brain isn’t very big,” Bella sympathized.

Lifting his head, Levet glared at the water sprite. “One more word out of you and I’m turning you into a carp.”

“Why do you want a stupid imp?” she pouted, blithely ignoring his threat. “They’re nasty, tricky beasts. Sprites are much more fun. Don’t you remember how you liked me rubbing your wings? Summon me and I’ll make you the happiest gargoyle in the world.”

“Enough, you make my head hurt,” Levet snapped.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t tempted. Bella was lovely, and he was a healthy male who liked having his wings stroked as well as the next gargoyle. Still, he understood the dangers of playing with the fey.

They always ended up being more trouble than they were worth.

Squaring his shoulders, Levet concentrated on the fading scent of plums. The damned cur may have tricked him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the situation to his advantage.

“Wait.” Breaking into his concentration, Bella swam closer to the shore. “Where are you going?”

He muttered a curse at the interruption. “I have a cur to capture.”

“I can help.”

“Bah.”

“I know where the imp is.”

Levet scowled. “How would you know?”

“I see things.”

“See things? What could you possibly see? You cannot be in this world unless you’re summoned…”

He stumbled to silence as his words sank through his thick skull. She couldn’t be here. Not unless she’d already been summoned.

She was nothing more than another bit of bait. Just like the scent of imp that had led him to this precise spot.

“Oh, shit,” he breathed, whirling just in time to watch the tall cur step from behind a tree.

His hands lifted to conjure a hasty spell, but the words didn’t have time to form before he was struck by a brilliant explosion.

The world went black.

Chapter 13

Regan shivered, absently rubbing her hands over her bare arms. The chill in the air had nothing to do with the brisk spring breeze and everything to do with the very large, very annoyed vampire stalking silently behind her.

Not that she was about to apologize.

She hadn’t asked for his interference, dammit. And she most certainly didn’t ask to be treated like a helpless bimbo who had to be tucked away in a safe lair while Jagr played superhero.

She was the one who Culligan had tormented and tortured for three decades. She was the one who had dreamed night after night of ripping out the imp’s throat. She was the one who’d tracked the bastard to Hannibal.

This was her fight, and by God, she was going to see it to the bitter end.

And her stubborn reaction to his protective instincts had nothing at all to do with the fear that the stunning pleasure she’d felt in Jagr’s arms had given him a power over her that was as ruthless and eternal as Jagr himself.

She shivered again.

Christ. She needed a distraction.

And a freaking jacket.

“What is this place?” she demanded, gazing around the wide stretch of open land that was surrounded by a handful of large, elegant homes. “A park?”

Quickening his pace to walk beside her rather than glowering from behind, Jagr deliberately pulled back his power, easing the chill in the air.

“A golf course,” he corrected.

“Ah.” Her lips twisted. No wonder she didn’t recognize the place. Culligan had never spent much time around the country club set. “That would explain the lack of teeter-totters.”

“And the manicured greens with holes cut in them.”

She shot him a startled glance. “You golf?”

“There are few things I haven’t tried over the centuries.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she said dryly.

Heat flared through his eyes, burning away the lingering ice. “I’d be happy to demonstrate a few of them later.”

Regan hastily turned her head, following the peach-scented trail that led toward a line of woods at the back of the golf course. Not that she hoped for a minute the damned vampire couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks.

“What would an imp be doing out here?” she muttered.

Half-expecting Jagr to pounce on her obvious vulnerability, Regan breathed a sigh of relief when he instead turned his attention toward the thicker shadows gathered ahead.

“My first guess would be that he’s hiding.”

“From us?”

Jagr tilted back his head as if sensing the night air. “His trail is fresh. And he’s near.”

Regan abruptly halted, realizing the scent of peach had grown considerably stronger. She pointed toward the line of trees along a barbed wire fence.

“I’ll circle to the right,” she whispered so softly only a vampire could catch the words. “I’d rather not have to chase him through the trees.”

“Regan.”

She stiffened, sensing his grim frustration.

“What?”

He muttered a low curse. “Just be careful.”

Regan lifted her brows.

No grim pronouncement that it was too dangerous?

No squawking that he was the only one capable of dealing with the hidden demon?

No growling, hissing, or chest thumping?

Not willing to press her luck, Regan slipped silently down a cement path she assumed was for the golf carts.

She didn’t believe for a moment that an ancient vampire could actually learn new tricks. At least not this ancient vampire.

So either he didn’t believe the imp posed enough of a threat to make a fuss over, or more likely, he was confident he could protect her even if she was stubborn enough to charge into danger.

The rueful thoughts had barely skimmed through her mind when there was a rustle of noise and a slender form darted across the closely mowed green, heading directly for the nearby bushes.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Regan muttered, launching forward to tackle the fleeing imp.

She had a brief impression of reddish blond hair that was cut short and styled to emphasize the narrow, handsome face and pale green eyes. His thin body was hidden beneath an elegant blue suit that made him look like a banker.

Or a gigolo.

No doubt the old ladies at the tea shop fluttered over him like a clutch of infatuated hens.

Tackling the imp from behind, Regan drove him to the ground, intending to land on his back. Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men…yadda, yadda…

The impact was enough to knock her to the side, and the imp struck out desperately, his fist hitting her square in the stomach. The breath was wrenched from her lungs and before she could move, the imp landed a blow that would have broken her jaw if she’d been human. Thankfully Regan wasn’t a human. She was a pissed-off pureblood who’d just been sucker-punched.

The imp swung his arm again, but this time Regan was prepared. Grabbing his fist, she squeezed until he was squealing like a…well, pretty much like an imp in pain. Then wrenching his arm behind his back, she rolled him face-first into the ground.

He kicked out, connecting painfully with her knee as she climbed to straddle his lower back. Regan cursed, jacking his arm even higher up his back as she grabbed a fistful of his hair and smacked his face into the dirt.

There was a cool brush of air, and suddenly Jagr was crouched at her side, his gaze on the imp whimpering beneath her.

“I think he’s subdued, little one.”

She turned her head to spit the blood from her mouth. Damn, the freaking idiot had made her bite her tongue. She hated that.

“You could have helped,” she muttered.

Jagr arched a golden brow. “And be accused of overstepping my place as your meaningless sidekick? Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, it looked like you had everything under control.”