Frowning, she watched as Jagr pulled on a black T-shirt that molded to his perfect chest, and bent down to tug on a pair of heavy black boots. Still ignoring her, he collected his daggers and efficiently strapped them to various parts of his body.

“Dammit, Jagr,” she growled.

He tucked a handgun in the waistband of his jeans. “I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.”

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.” Throwing her hands in the air, she stormed to stand directly before him. “Fine. I came down here because I was worried about you.”

“So it was a pity…”

She’d slammed her hand across his mouth before he could throw her words back into her face.

“I came down here because I was worried, but that’s not the reason I seduced you.”

Reaching up, he tugged her hand from his lips, his thumb absently rubbing a tender circle on her inner wrist.

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“Because I needed to be with you,” she muttered awkwardly. Christ. She didn’t do confessionals. They made her feel like a cheap extra on As the World Turns. “And it had to be you. Just you. Nobody else.” She shook her head as his lips parted. “Don’t freaking ask me why, because I don’t know.”

Bending his head, he stroked his lips over the pulse hammering in her inner wrist.

“If you need me, then the thought of visiting my lair shouldn’t send you into a panic.”

A renewed sense of alarm had her tugging her hand free so she could step back.

“It wouldn’t have if you hadn’t mentioned that whole mate thing.”

He searched her tight expression. “Are you afraid I intend to trap you?”

“I just…” She wrapped her arms around her waist, unable to find the words for her unease. “Are you certain?”

“Certain?”

“About me being your mate?”

“You don’t carry my mark yet, but yes, I’m certain.”

She shook her head, telling herself it was all some cosmic mistake. This large, beautiful, incredibly sexy predator deserved a mate who could offer untarnished, unconditional devotion. Not a screwed-up Were who was torn between fleeing in utter terror, and a breathless dread of never seeing him again.

“How can it even be possible? I mean, we’ve done nothing but argue since we met.”

“One of fate’s little jokes, no doubt.”

Ridiculously, she felt a prick of disappointment at his mocking tone.

“You don’t sound particularly happy.”

“Should I be?” He planted his fists on his hips, the movement stretching the shirt over his massive chest. “After centuries of being alone, I at last find the female destined to be my mate, and she has commitment issues. Forgive me for not jumping for joy.”

She tilted her chin, although her gaze kept straying down to the enticing ripple of muscle beneath that damned shirt.

Hey, she might be a demon, but she was all female.

Who wouldn’t be distracted?

“I don’t have issues, I just…”

Golden brows arched as she struggled to find the words. “Yes?”

“I’m just not ready to think about the future.”

“You’ve found Culligan. What else do you have to think about but the future?”

She latched onto the first thing that came to mind. “My sister for one thing.”

He frowned. “Darcy?”

“No, the one being held captive by Caine.” She met his exasperated gaze with a tight smile. “I think we might have a means to track her.”

Levet was not a happy gargoyle.

He’d come to Hannibal to rescue Regan from the clutches of the evil imp. He was supposed to be the hero who won the fair damsel and was celebrated among the demon-world.

Instead, he’d not only lost the girl to yet another devious vampire, but he was now stuck playing babysitter to a bad-tempered cur who couldn’t decide if he wanted to be a good or bad guy.

Where was the justice in that?

And to top it off, he was stuck in a cramped fishing cabin that was nearly hidden in a tangle of trees, waiting for Salvatore to make an appearance at dawn.

Kicking a stray rock, Levet negotiated the narrow trail that ran along the Mississippi River.

When Salvatore had commanded Duncan to meet him at a private sanctuary less than an hour north of St. Louis, Levet had held on to the hope the place would be along the lines of Hefner’s Playboy Mansion. Salvatore might be a dog, but he was King of the Dogs, and rumors were that he liked the ladies.

Stupid Were.

The splash of water wrenched Levet out of his satisfying bout of self-pity, and with a sinking heart he turned toward the river to watch as Bella’s head popped into view, the rest of her body remaining hidden in the murky waves.

“Well, well.” A smug smile touched her lovely face. “If it isn’t the stunted gargoyle.”

“Sacrebleu.” Levet threw up his hands in resignation. “Am I to be forever tormented by you? Why will you not go away?”

The water sprite pouted. Oy. She managed to make even that a thing of beauty.

“Until the cur makes his third wish, I am free to roam as I please.”

“Then roam somewhere else, you annoying pest.”

She swam closer. “You’re only mad because I managed to lure you into a trap.”

Levet snorted, refusing to admit his pride was stung at having been so easily distracted by the tempting sprite.

“I am mad because you make my head hurt.” His eyes narrowed as he was struck by a sudden thought. “Wait. Duncan has wishes?”

“He summoned me,” she said, sounding annoyed that he would even ask such an obvious question. “That’s the deal. You summon me, you get three wishes.”

Of course Levet knew the basics of calling a water sprite. He’d accidentally done it just a few weeks ago. His interest was in whether or not Duncan was playing some devious game.

“Then why didn’t he just wish for you to make him impervious to harm?” Levet snapped.

“I’m a sprite, not a god. I can alter physical appearances, as I did with you, or conjure material possessions.” She deliberately reminded him of his brief stint as a full-sized gargoyle. One capable of plundering, pillaging, and wholesale destruction. Ah, good times. “But I can’t make someone immortal, or influence anyone other than the person making the wish.”

“So he couldn’t wish away his enemies?”

“Nope.”

“Or make Caine forget him?”

“Again, nope.”

“So what did he wish for?”

She grimaced. “The usual.”

Levet’s brief suspicion began to ease. “Riches?”

“Of course. So tedious.”

“What else?”

“His own private island.”

“Why would he want an island?”

“I believe he has some grandiose scheme to take over the renegade curs and start his own pack, once Salvatore kills Caine for him.”

His wings snapped with mocking amusement. “What a titty.”

“Titty?” Bella blinked in confusion. “Oh…do you mean boob?”

“Titty, boob, whatever,” he dismissed. “Salvatore will never allow the curs to escape to some private Garden of Eden. They’ll be lucky to keep their hides. The King of Weres might be a pureblood, but he’s as rabid as any dog. He should have been put down years ago, if you ask me.”

“I don’t tell my victims…” Bella hastily tried to cover her slip. “I mean, I don’t tell my fortunate masters what to wish for. I just obey.”

Levet wasn’t fooled. As a full blooded demon, he was immune to the water sprite’s curse, but most men greedy enough to accept the offer of her three wishes, soon learned the truth in the old saying, “If it sounds too good to be true…”

“So why hasn’t Duncan demanded his last wish?”

Her lips curled. “He’s a cur, not a demon.”

It took a minute, then his eyes widened. “Ah. So like a human, his last wish will condemn him to the watery depths of your nest?”

“Such a smart little gargoyle,” she murmured, swimming forward and stepping out of the river to reveal her full glory.

And what glory it was.

Levet’s tail went stiff as the moonlight lapped over the tiny, perfectly formed woman wearing nothing more than a sheer toga. The sprite might be the most dim-witted, annoying creature ever to have crossed his path, but with her white skin, slanted blue eyes, and pale green hair, she was causing all sorts of things to hum and jump and grow.

Grow really hard.

“Mon Dieu,” he groaned in genuine pain.

Smiling, she sashayed toward him, her hands running down her generous curves. “Do you like?”

Levet muttered his favorite curses. The damned sprite had made a fool of him once. He was horny (holy bat dung, was he horny), but he wasn’t stupid.

“I am a male—I enjoy a good ogle as well as the next—but I am also a gargoyle with powers that make the demon-world shudder in fear,” he muttered. “My…man parts do not rule me.”