Dark Celebration
Chapter 2

Mikhail leaned down to kiss Shea Dubrinsky on her cheek. "You look just a little bit pregnant there, lady."
His sister-in-law blew strands of bright red hair from her face. "You think? If I don't have this baby soon, I swear I'm going to explode."
"You're also looking harassed. Is something wrong?" He glanced around the room looking for his brother. Jacques rarely strayed from the side of his lifemate.
A slow smile lit Shea's face. "He's in the kitchen-baking."
Mikhail's eyebrow shot up. "I do not believe I heard you correctly."
"Yes, you did. My back has been hurting on and off tonight and I'm having trouble with this recipe. The worst thing is-Raven, Corrine and I came up with most of the recipes for everyone. They were childhood favorites of Raven's and a few I remembered. Corrine filled in the rest and now I can't manage it. It's a little humiliating to admit, but I seem to be emotional. I keep crying, so Jacques took over the baking."
Mikhail choked and turned away to politely clear his throat. "Jacques is cooking?"
Her smile widened. "Well-trying to. We aren't having a lot of success at the moment and I think he's learning new words." She tilted her head, the bright red hair falling around her face, emphasizing her classic bone structure. "Perhaps you'd like to give him a hand. Go on in, he'll be happy to see you." She rolled her eyes. "His Majesty has given me strict instructions to lie down for a while."
Mikhail gave her a fierce scowl. "Then do so immediately, Shea. You are not in labor, are you? I will call Francesca and Gregori to examine you."
"I'm a doctor, Mikhail," Shea reminded him, "I'd know if I was in labor. I'm close, maybe the start-but it isn't happening yet." She waved as she started toward the concealed door leading to the basement. "I promise to call them if I need them. I'd never take a chance on anything happening to the baby. I'm just tired."
Mikhail watched her disappear before making his way through the spacious house to the kitchen. He stopped abruptly in the doorway to stare at his brother in shock. A cloud of white particles choked the air and fell to the floor like snowflakes. The powder was everywhere, on the floor, on the dishes and bowls covering the counters and in the sink. Jacques stood at the counter, an apron over his clothes, a dusting of white powder over his face, in his eyebrows, tipping his lashes and coating his midnight black hair.
Mikhail burst out laughing. Even with Raven, who constantly amused him, he rarely gave a deep, roaring belly laugh, but the sight of his usually grim-faced brother covered in flour and sweating bullets was too much even for him.
Jacques spun around, eyes glittering with warning menace-a fierce scowl, which should have intimidated the strongest and most courageous of warriors, on his face. A thin white scar circled his throat and marred his jaw and one cheek, bearing evidence of his past. It was extremely rare for a Carpathian body to scar, as they healed so easily, but Jacques's body bore evidence of brutal torture and probably always would, the thin scar around his throat and the jagged round hole in his chest marking where a stake had been driven deep into his body. "It is not funny."
"It is very funny," Mikhail insisted. It was the first time Mikhail could recall his brother ever looking so disconcerted. Shea had not only saved his life and his sanity, but had brought Jacques back to life with her joy and humor. Mikhail shared the image of his brother with Raven. Her soft laughter filled his mind and poured over him with love woven deep in the rich tones. There was such intimacy with Raven, an intimacy he knew his brother shared with Shea-and it had saved Jacques's life. For that alone Mikhail would always treasure his sister-in-law. "Even Raven finds the situation amusing."
"Raven. Do not say her name to me right now. She's the one who got me into this." Jacques blew upward in the hope of clearing the flour from his lashes.
"I believe it is Shea you are helping," Mikhail pointed out, the grin refusing to leave his face.
"Shea was in here crying. Crying, Mikhail. She sat in the middle of the floor and wept over a stupid loaf of bread." Jacques scowled and looked around him, lowering his voice. "I could not bear to see her like that."
For one moment, Jacques looked utterly helpless, rather than the dangerous hunter Mikhail knew him to be.
"Who would have ever thought bread could explode? The dough rose up over the top of the bowl and became a volcano, crawling down the sides and across the counter until I thought it was alive." Jacques shook a flour-covered piece of paper. "This is the recipe and it says cover with a tea towel. The tea towel did not have a prayer of containing that horrific bubbling brew."
Mikhail pressed a hand to his side. He hadn't laughed so much in a hundred years. "I can only say I am glad I did not see it."
"Quit laughing and get in here and help me." There was an edge of desperation to Jacques's voice. "For some reason that makes no sense to me at all, Shea is determined to make this bread for the party. She wants it braided and made into loaves and put in the oven. This is my third attempt. I thought people went to stores and bought this stuff."
"You hunt vampires, Jacques," Mikhail said. "Making a loaf of bread cannot be that difficult."
"You say that now, only because you have not tried it. Come in here and close the door." Jacques rubbed his arm across his face, smearing more white flour everywhere. "I need to talk to you anyway." He touched Shea's mind to ensure she was a distance away. His gaze shifted back to the dough, avoiding his brother's piercing eyes. "Shea's been corresponding with a woman who thinks she may be a distant relative."
The smile faded from Mikhail's face. "How long?"
"About a year. The woman found photographs in her attic and apparently is into genealogy. She wrote Shea asking if they could be related. She thinks Shea is Maggie's granddaughter rather than her actual daughter. Shea wanted the pictures of her mother and wrote back to her."
Mikhail stifled the groan that threatened. "Jacques. You know better. How could she have tracked Shea in the first place? We are careful not to leave a trail."
"It is not so easy now with computers, Mikhail, and Shea needs them to do research. The path takes her many places."
"She should never have answered the contact."
"I know. I know. I shouldn't have allowed it, but she's given up so much to be with me. I'm not like the rest of you and I never will be. You know that." Jacques's gaze shifted from his brother and pain rippled in the air between them. "She deserves better and I wanted to give her one small gift. Corresponding with someone who may be a relative and who claimed to have pictures of her mother-how could she possibly resist? And I could not bring myself to deny her."
"You know it is dangerous. You know we cannot leave paper trails. Any contact with humans is risky, especially one on paper. It endangers all of us."
Jacques slammed the dough hard onto the counter. "Shea has been researching why we lose babies even as she is carrying our child. She has investigated the deaths of thirty children under the age of one. What do you think that does to her?" His fist smashed into the dough. "She is about to give birth and she is terrified. She tries to hide it from me, but I have never been able to allow her even limited privacy." The admission of weakness shamed him, but Jacques wanted his brother to know the truth. "She carries the burden of my sanity every moment of her existence."
"Jacques, you love Shea."
"Shea is my life, my soul, and she knows it, Mikhail, but it doesn't make it easy to live with me. I cannot stand other men near her. I'm always a shadow in her mind, and I have nearly driven us both crazy worried about this pregnancy-worried about her. If something should happen to her..."
"Shea will give birth and the child will be healthy," Mikhail said, sending up a silent prayer that it was true. "Both Francesca and Gregori will see to it that Shea is in good health. I have every faith that you will not allow anything to happen to your lifemate during this time."
"She begged me to promise to stay in the world and raise my child should something happen to her." Jacques raised anguished eyes to his brother. "After her own terrible childhood, you can understand why she would need such a reassurance from me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking tired and weighed down with sorrow. "You know I cannot exist without her. She is my sanity. It is the only thing she has ever asked of me, and I cannot safely comply no matter how much I wish to reassure her."
"What do you know of this woman?"
It was the only apology Jacques could give his brother. By allowing Shea correspondence with a stranger, a human unknown to their species, he had opened the door to endanger their entire race. "The woman, Eileen Fitzpatrick, sent Shea numerous photos of Maggie, Shea's mother, and a woman Eileen claimed was Maggie's half sister. Apparently the half sister is Eileen's grandmother."
"How would she find Shea?"
Jacques shrugged. "The internet. Shea researches genealogy all the time."
Mikhail's eyebrow shot up. "Why? She is no longer human, but Carpathian."
"And apparently genealogy still matters in her research, Mikhail," Jacques said. "Not only for Shea, but Raven and Alexandria and Jaxon-all of them as well as our families too. Gregori and Francesca take care of the Carpathian genealogy necessary for the research into the deaths of our children."
"And this Eileen found her through the genealogy site Shea was working on?" Mikhail prompted.
Jacques nodded, all too aware of Mikhail's continuing censure. "Eileen was born in Ireland, but she happened to be living in the States. I asked Aidan to look into her discreetly. She owns a bookstore in San Francisco and spends a great deal of her time looking up her family history in the library, using their computers."
"So at least this woman is far away." Even as he said it, Mikhail scowled, his dark brows coming together and thunder rolling over his face-cracking in the skies. He read the truth on Jacques's face. "She's here?"
"She will be at the inn this evening. Eileen asked Shea what she would be doing for Christmas, and Shea thought it was natural for a human to be cooking food for the children and having a Christmas party, so she mentioned it."
Mikhail watched Jacques roll a wooden pin over the dough to flatten it. "I like nothing about this party. I should have told Raven no. It has occurred to me many times lately that sooner or later our enemies will strike at our women and children. What better time than now with so many of us gathered in one place?"
"Raven was right, Mikhail. After the last attempt on your life, we all needed something to lighten our spirits. I will admit I have been more uneasy than usual, but I suspect it is because Shea is so close to giving birth."
"Maybe," Mikhail said. "Maybe."
"I do not think our enemies will be able to rally this quickly to launch another concentrated attack on us, Mikhail, but of course we will take every precaution." Jacques rolled the dough out with more enthusiasm than expertise and threw a handful of flour over it, sending another cloud of white particles into the air.
Mikhail couldn't pull his fascinated gaze away from the mess his brother seemed to be making. "Where's Shea now?" He lowered his voice another notch.
"She had better be lying down. She is not feeling very well."
"It is possible the vampires cannot rally, but the society working against us has always
found us here in the mountains. They have spies, and it is entirely possibly they have heard of this gathering. One or more of the locals has to be in their pay. And of course, we cannot ever forget that the dark mage is still alive."
Jacques's black eyes glittered with menace, ice cold and dangerous, reminding Mikhail that even with Shea to steady him, Jacques was a lethal and frightening man. The white flour dusting his face and on the tips of his lashes did nothing to soften the threat emanating from him. "We should begin regular sweeps through the town and surrounding areas and see what we can pick up."
Mikhail inhaled sharply, and immediately began to cough as the flour particles entered his lungs. He liked most of the townspeople, had a genuine friendship with a few, and the idea of continually invading their privacy was repugnant to him, even though he knew it was necessary.
Jacques scowled at him. "I can handle it myself."
"You know as well as I do that our enemies have been able to find a way to keep us from detecting them. Continual scanning or taking blood deliberately to monitor them will only rob our neighbors of the privacy they are entitled to. We would not want such a deliberate invasion of our privacy." It was an old discussion, but one he always made to remind himself of right and wrong.
"We have more than a right, we have a duty to protect our women and children, Mikhail, and I shouldn't have to tell you that. You nearly lost Raven three times now."
Mikhail tamped down his own rising beast. It would do no good to turn a useful discussion into an argument. Jacques had a valid point-as did Mikhail, and in the end, they would do what they had to do to protect their race.
Mikhail studied his brother's snarling face. Jacques had been on the verge of insanity when Shea rescued him, and after all the years with her, the demons still lurked very close to the surface. At the slightest hint of danger to Shea, the monster rose quickly, and anyone too close to Jacques could be in danger.
"Jacques?"
They both turned at the sound of Shea's voice. She stood in the doorway, her bright red hair tumbling around her face, drawing attention to her emerald green eyes and the dark circles beneath them. I felt your need of me. What is it, wild man? She sounded gently amused even as she wrapped him up in her warmth and love.
Jacques took a breath, calmed his mind, suddenly aware that he had inadvertently tightened his hold on Shea. I seem so sane to others, yet I am still fragmented without you. I am sorry I disturbed you. His voice was intimate and gentle, a wash of emotions as he took in the love of his life. Something softened inside, eased the roaring of the demons rising in
him-the deep rage that never quite left him no matter how hard he struggled to overcome his past. He would never be easy in the company of humans as his brother was, and he couldn't quite suppress the thought that invasion of privacy was well worth not only his own peace of mind, but his need to keep this woman safe for eternity.
"You look so cute," she said.
Jacques blinked, avoiding his brother's eyes. "Carpathian men are not cute, Shea. We are dangerous. I look dangerous at all times."
"No, honey," Shea insisted, brushing past Mikhail as she entered the room. "You look so cute, I wish I could take your picture and show all the others how sweet you really are."
Jacques turned on her, swooping her into his arms before she could protest, dragging her close, so that the flour rained down on her, looking like snow in her bright hair, coating her clothes and dusting her chin. He buried his face in her neck, deliberately rubbing against her as he nuzzled the warm bare skin, teeth nipping playfully.
Shea laughed, her arm circling his head, protesting even as she held him to her. Jacques's much larger frame nearly dwarfed her, and his long hair, tied with a leather thong, fell down his back in a wild mane in which she tangled her fingers to hold him even closer.
Mikhail felt emotion welling up, choking him. A rush of affection, of genuine respect and love, flooded Mikhail, and he shared that small moment with Raven. Shea O'Halleran had not only saved his brothers life and sanity, but she, with Gregori, had saved Raven and their child. Shea looked so fragile, with her small, delicate features and rounded stomach, but he knew the core of absolute courage and commitment, the iron will that lived and breathed inside her. While human, she had been a renowned surgeon and researcher, a brilliant woman as a human, and now, as a Carpathian, she turned all those skills to her work to try to save their species from extinction.
"In all honesty, Jacques, the flour and the apron does take away from the image of the dangerous predator," Mikhail said, joining forces with her immediately, teasing his younger brother though laughter and jokes were rare between them these days.
Jacques turned back to his brother, far more relaxed than he'd been seconds earlier. Shea's calming influence had the tiny red flames receding from his eyes and the snarl gone from his lips. "Do not encourage her," he protested.
Mikhail winked at Shea. She remained locked in his brother's arms, her head thrown back against his chest, uncaring of the white flour covering both of them. "I do not think she needs much encouragement at all," Mikhail said. "I will leave you to your baking as I have to go. I want to talk to Aidan and Julian."
You are checking on the woman claiming to be related to Shea.
Mikhail barely inclined his head. "Julian was friends with Dimitri at one time, wasn't
he?"
"A few hundred years ago," Jacques said, eyes suddenly wary. "Why?"
Mikhail shrugged. "I have not seen Dimitri in his true form in decades. While he has been here, he stays in the body of a wolf. Many of the hunters use the body of animals to aid them when they are close to turning."
He made you uneasy, Jacques said as he nuzzled Shea's neck and pressed a gentle kiss over the pulse beating there.
A little. I am just being careful. We are all a little on edge with this unfamiliar gathering Too many of our women and children in one place make me feel as if they are all vulnerable. I wish Julian to make contact with him to reestablish their friendship.
It is difficult to monitor one's childhood friends.
Yes, it is, Mikhail agreed with a soft sigh.
"Jacques!" Shea took his hand. "Our baby is kicking very hard. He's been so quiet tonight that I was getting worried."
Jacques placed his palm over her rounded stomach in order to feel the thump of the baby's foot. He smiled at her. "Astonishing. A little miracle."
"Isn't it?" Shea turned her face up to his for a brief, tender kiss. "I couldn't help but be worried. I've been talking so much with all the others working on the problem our people have keeping our children alive, and we all have different theories."
"What is your theory, Shea?" Mikhail asked, his dark eyes compelling an answer.
She pushed back strands of red hair and turned her head to look at him, her face suddenly looking drawn and tired. Strain showed in the depths of her eyes. "Gregori and I both believe there are a combination of things causing the miscarriages and deaths. Soil is our mainstay. It rejuvenates us and heals us and without it we cannot exist for too long. We have to lie in it whether or not we allow ourselves to be completely buried. The composition of the soil has changed over the years. This place less than others, but chemicals and toxins have leached into the richness of our world and just like with other species, I believe it is affecting our ability to carry our children."
Mikhail tried not to react. Soil. His people could not exist without soil for long. Even those who left the Carpathian Mountains sought the richest soil possible in other lands, but it made sense. Birds had problems with their young from contaminations, why not Carpathians? He suppressed a groan-a sudden reaching out to Raven. He wanted her to try to have another child-he needed her to try again-to lead the women after so many had suffered so much. The last thing he needed to do was to discourage her just when she was able once again to conceive. The time came so rarely, and an opportunity missed meant too
many years lost.
"You have been testing our soil?" he asked.
Shea nodded. "There are pollutants even here, Mikhail, in our sanctuary. We've been testing every one of our richest deposits to find the best soil possible for our pregnant women. And that is only one piece of a very complex problem."
Hearing the note of anxiety in her voice, Jacques's hand came up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. "You have made amazing progress, Shea. And you will find the answers to this puzzle."
"I believe I will," she agreed, "but I'm not so certain we'll be able to do very much to counteract the problems. And I'm not sure if I can find all those pieces to the puzzle and the answers in time to do us much good." Her hand rested over her unborn child.
It was the first time both men had ever heard Shea sound so defeated. She was very single-minded-analytical. Always determined to keep moving forward believing science could provide answers.
She is tired, Mikhail. She will never give up.
Mikhail forced a small smile, deciding, with Shea so close to her time, it wouldn't be a good idea to bring up the infant-mortality rate. He needed a safe change of subject. "I forgot to mention a very important detail in tonight's festivities. Raven informed me it was my duty as prince of our people to play Santa Claus."
Jacques choked. Shea coughed behind her hand.
Mikhail nodded. "Exactly. I have no intentions of putting on a white beard and a red elf suit. However..." He grinned evilly.
"What are you planning, Mikhail?" Jacques asked suspiciously. "Because if you think to pass this distasteful task on to your brother..."
The shake of Mikhail's head was slow and deliberate, his dark eyes dancing with mischief. "I have decided there is a use for a son-in-law after all. I will inform my dear son that it is his duty to wear the red suit."
Jacques opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Shea pressed her hand hard against her lips, her eyes wide with shock. "Not Gregori. He'll scare all the children," she whispered as if Gregori might hear her. "You aren't really going to ask him, are you? None of the Daratrazanoff brothers can play Santa. It would be... wrong."
Jacques's smile widened, and Mikhail felt his heart squeeze hard in his chest.
What is it, my love? I will come to you if you need me. Raven's soft voice filled Mikhail's
mind with warmth.
Nothing now that you have touched me, Mikhail reassured her through their telepathic link.
"I want to be a little mouse in the corner watching when you ask him," Jacques decided. "Let me know when you are going to his house."
Shea glared at her lifemate. "Don't encourage him. Gregori is the bogeyman of the Carpathians. Even now, the children whisper his name and hide when he comes near them. I'm not certain I've ever seen the man smile."
"I would not be smiling if I was wearing a red suit and white beard," Mikhail pointed out.
"But you're gentle, Mikhail, and Gregori is..." She frowned trying to think of a word that wouldn't be considered offensive.
"Gregori," Jacques supplied. "It is a wonderful idea, Mikhail. You do plan to tell his brothers? They will want to be there when you let him know the important part he will be playing in this night's activities."
Shea gasped. "You two aren't serious are you? Joking is one thing, but Gregori as Santa boggles the mind."
"I must have some pleasure from all of this, Shea," Mikhail pointed out. "Just the thought alone of the look on his face when I tell him it will be his job to dress in this ridiculous manner is enough to improve my mood considerably despite the festivities."
Shea put both hands on her hips. "Carpathian males are such babies."
"I am off to see Aidan," Mikhail announced. "Good luck with the bread, Jacques." He looked around the kitchen. "I trust you do not have to use human ways to clean up the mess."
Shea laughed and waved him away. "The bread is going to be wonderful." When Mikhail left the house, Shea turned to face Jacques. A slow smile lit her face and mischief danced in her eyes. "Did you have fun talking manly Carpathian secrets with your brother? Because you do know you're going to tell me everything he said, don't you?"
"Am I?" Jacques turned her fully into his arms. "I can feel how tired you are, and your back is still hurting. You should be in bed resting." He interspersed his order with small kisses all over her face trailing to the corner of her mouth. All the while his body subtly pushed hers so that she walked backward toward the kitchen door.
"You aren't going to get out of telling me, no matter how charming you are," she warned. "And I'm turning white. How did you get all that flour all over the kitchen? It looks like a war zone."
"It is a war zone," he groused. "I do not know how these people do this on a regular basis." He continued to nudge her gently through the hall toward the bedroom, concerned by the way her body-and mind-felt so worn out.
"I promised Raven I'd get the bread done for the party and I'd do it in a human way," Shea reminded him. "I can't let her down."
"First of all, little red hair"-Jacques swept her up into his arms-"you are about to have a baby and Raven would not care if you could not get the bread to bake. Fortunately, you have me and I will get it to work if it is the last thing I ever do."
Shea smiled at the determination in his voice, relaxing against him. "You love a challenge."
"Humans do this kind of thing every day. I should be able to do with it with no problem," he groused, and moved with dizzying speed through the house to the tunnel leading to their chamber beneath the earth.
The room was beautiful, with shimmering light from multicolored crystals layered over the walls. The soil was dark and rich, the best they could find, imported from one of the healing caves. Other than having a dirt floor, and a large dug-out resting place in the soil, the room looked like a regular bedroom. There were candles in sconces on the walls flickering in a multitude of lights, filling the room with a soothing fragrance.
Jacques floated down into the deep depression in the earth and laid Shea gently into the rich soil. He stretched out beside her and leaned over to press a series of kisses along her rounded belly. The baby thumped his mouth and he laughed out loud.
Shea treasured the sound of his laughter, the warmth in his eyes and the love in his fingertips and mouth as he teased the baby into kicking more vigorously. Her fingers tangled in Jacques's long hair as he laid his head against her stomach to talk to the baby as he did every evening.
Come out and join us, son. We have waited long enough.
"More than long enough," Shea said. "I want him where I can hold him in my arms. Tell him that when you're giving him his nightly bedtime story."
Jacques pressed another series of kisses over her rounded tummy. "Your mother is telling you enough is enough. You will have to learn the codes women use, son, when they talk to men."
"We don't have codes," Shea protested with a small laugh. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Jacques's strength. The smile faded. "I'm really afraid. I really am. I can't bear the thought of losing him. Already he's such a part of me, Jacques. And I fear I'm the one holding up the process, not him. He wants to be born and I want to keep him safe."
Jacques lifted his head to look at her, nuzzling her neck, breathing warmth over her cold hands. "You carried him when we thought that to be impossible. He wants to survive. We have a strong bond with him. You know we cannot feed our children in the natural way our ancestors have done, and you have developed a formula that has kept Gabriel and Francesca's child alive as well as Dayan and Corrine's little one. You have made great strides, Shea."
She pressed her fingers to her eyes. "I thought Raven was being so selfish not wanting to try again after she lost her baby, but now I understand. Our son moves and kicks and even more. I feel him puzzling things out. We can communicate with him. I didn't know we'd be able to do that-to get to know him before he was born. He knows us just as we know him. If we lost him now, it would be so difficult, Jacques-so difficult-perhaps unbearable, just as I know it was for Raven and all the other women who came before us."
"Don't do this to yourself. Our baby will be born healthy and he will survive."
Shea turned her face into Jacques's chest, closing her eyes again against the pain in her heart. "Will he? Once he leaves the shelter of my body, will he survive, Jacques? And if he does survive, what kind of a future is he facing?"
"Tamara appears to be quite healthy, as does Jennifer."
"And while we go to ground, another has to watch over our children. Does that make sense to you? Why can't our children go to ground as they should? Even if the soil contains some toxins, shouldn't they be able to tolerate the very thing they will come to need?"
Jacques stroked back her hair, sensing the rising fear in her. The persistent ache in her back told her birth was near-was inevitable. She couldn't protect their son much longer. "Our people have gathered in joy for this occasion, Shea." He kissed her soft skin, his hands tender as he continued to tangle his fingers in her brightly colored hair. "Each Carpathian, near and far, has one true purpose at this time-to see to the life of our son. He will survive. The blood of the ancient line runs in his veins."
She rubbed her face over Jacques's heart. "I know. Every day I think about how you survived those seven years-trapped so close to the earth that would have saved you, starving and tortured and so alone-but you refused to succumb." She lifted her chin to look into his dark, tormented eyes. "He has your blood, my beloved wild man. And your iron will. I'm so grateful that you're my lifemate, Jacques. If anything keeps our son alive, it will be because you are his father." She rolled onto her side and framed his face with her hands. "I feel you in him."
He groaned softly, a small smile flirting with his mouth. "Then God help us when he is a teenager, Shea. Have you ever been introduced to Josef?"
"Byron's nephew? The young rapper?"
"That would be the one. I fear we have been given a brief glimpse of our future."
Shea laughed, the worry fading from her eyes. "Oh, dear. I believe Josef has been practicing to perform tonight."
"It will be almost as good watching Mikhail's face when Josef does his rap tonight as it will be watching Mikhail break it to Gregori that he is expected to play the part of Raven's Santa Claus."
Shea shook her head, her green eyes dancing. "You're a very bad man, Jacques."
"I keep telling you that, but you persist in thinking I am cute and cuddly."
The desire and hunger in his eyes took the breath from her lungs, and Shea circled his neck with her arms. She pressed kisses along the corner of his mouth. "I'll pretend around the others, Jacques, if that makes you feel better, but when we're alone, you'll just have to put up with my thinking you're extraordinarily cute and cuddly."
He heaved a sigh, amusement creeping into the depths of his eyes. "I have no idea how I ever existed before you came into my life."
Her answering smile lit up her face. "I feel the same way about you, Jacques." She laid her head against his chest over his heart. "I wouldn't be able to get through this without you. I've never been so afraid, but you steady me."
He stroked a caress over her shiny ribbon of hair. "And all this time I thought it was the other way around." Above her head, the smile faded from his face, leaving the lines deep and his eyes once more dark with worry. "This woman we are meeting tonight, Shea..." He hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully. "You must be very, very careful. We cannot have her suspecting even for a moment that you are anything but a human."
Shea rolled away from him in a small spurt of temper. "You know, Jacques, not all humans are monsters. Look at Slavica and Gary and Jubal. Why should she be suspicious that I am anything but human? Do you think most people go around thinking there are vampires and Carpathians in the world? I thought I had a rare blood disorder for years and I'm a doctor."
His fingers shaped the nape of her neck. "Do not be upset, Shea. I have a duty to protect our people."
"You mean Mikhail didn't like me contacting her."
"I mean I didn't like it. Maybe I have had you to myself these years and the idea of sharing you with an outsider sets my teeth on edge."
She turned her head in time to see his white teeth snap together, very reminiscent of a wolf. She began to laugh again. "I love you very much, Jacques Dubrinsky. I really do."
Her hands framed his face. "Are you ever going to get over that silly jealous streak?"
"Is that what it is? I thought it was feelings of inadequacy-that you might suddenly wake up one morning and realize I am more trouble than I am worth." He turned his head to brush her fingers with a kiss.
"That could never happen, Jacques, not in a million years. Don't worry about Eileen Fitzpatrick. I'll know if she's lying to me."
"You want family so much, Shea, maybe you will not be able to tell."
"I have a family, Jacques. You are my family. You and our son and Mikhail and Raven and Gregori and Savannah. I am not deprived. And despite my hormones running amok, I would not endanger our loved ones for a stranger even if she is a relative. I had hoped she would have stories of my mother's childhood, but if not, I will only be disappointed, not devastated."
Jacques turned his face away, happiness bursting through him like the unexpected eruption of a volcano. "Roll over," he instructed gruffly. "I'll rub your back for you." He couldn't look at her, couldn't face her when his vulnerability would be so starkly naked. Men just shouldn't be so dependent on their women, not even lifemates.
"I have a beach ball for a stomach, Jacques," she pointed out. "There's no rolling."
"On your side then," he suggested.
Shea was silent for a long moment before catching his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "You're my life too, Jacques, my entire world. All those things you feel for me-I feel for you."
"Even though I can't let go of you and always have to be a shadow in your mind?" He forced himself to look into her eyes-into her heart-to read her mind.
He found unconditional love.
"Especially because you stay with me. I treasure that in you." Shea traced his mouth with her fingertip. "A woman cherishes being loved, Jacques, and you know how to love me."