Dark Desire
Chapter five

The summons was sharp, on the edge of desperation. Shea blinked, found herself tangled on the bed with Jacques, her skin rubbing against his, his arms tight, vise-like bands around her, his mouth taking hers with such expertise that her entire body raged for him. He was aggressive, dominant, the position he held her in one of submission. When she looked up at him, his eyes went from desperation, hungry desire, and tenderness to a bestial glow, that of a wild animal taking what belonged to it. She recognized those red flames leaping, betraying the violence in him. When she stiffened, tried to struggle, a warning growl rumbled deep in his throat.
Shea went very still, forced her mind away from panic and fear, back toward logic. He had called to her in need. The moment she realized that, she relaxed, holding him in her arms with acceptance. He needed her, and she could do no other than help him. His hands were everywhere, rough, hurting even; his teeth bit at her much too hard.
Jacques.
Deliberately she sought the red haze of his mind. She was calm, tranquil, accepting of his bestial nature.
Comeback to me.
He latched on to her like a drowning man, merging his mind with hers. He was breathing hard, in such pain. She could feel the dark desire beating at him, the demand that he claim what was rightfully his. Jacques struggled for control of the monster within him. Shea kissed his throat, the hard line of his jaw, a soothing, gentle touch.
It's all right. Come back to me.
He buried his face in her neck, crushed her tightly to him. He was exhausted, in pain, afraid he had driven her even further away. It was Shea who stroked his hair, murmured soothing nonsense, Shea who lay soft and pliant close to his heart. Her palm shaped the side of his face, a physical contact; her mind merged firmly, wholly, with his.
I am sorry.
Jacques rested his chin on top of her head, unwilling to face the condemnation he feared would be reflected in her eyes.
Ssh, just be still. I should never have left you alone. You did not cause this. His arms tightened momentarily. Shea, do not think that. You are not to blame for my madness. My body needs yours. The mating between lifematesis not exactly the same as human mating. I nearly hurt you, Shea. I am sorry. You're the one in pain, Jacques,
she pointed out gently. She realized she was using their mental link, accepting it as natural. She sighed, reached up to kiss his chin.
They held each other like two children after a terrible fright, taking comfort in one another's closeness. Shea became aware after a time that her skin was against his, bare, sensitive, her breasts pressed into his side. "I don't suppose you want to tell me what happened to my shirt." She lay motionless, drowsy and content. Being so close to him should have bothered her, but it simply seemed normal. Her gaze found the material slashed to ribbons, scattered on the floor beside the bed. "You were in a bit of a hurry, I see," she pointed out, making an effort to get up to get dressed.
When Shea would have pulled away from him, Jacques refused to relinquish his hold. Instead, he reached lazily for the quilt and pulled it around her. His smile was in her mind. Tell me of your childhood.
He dropped the words into the silence, felt her shock, her pain, her instant withdrawal
want you to tell me this yourself Shea. I could look into your memories, but it is not the same as your trusting me with something so personal. He had already seen her childhood, the terrible way she had grown up alone. Jacques wanted her to share it with him, to give him the priceless gift of her trust.
Shea could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart, a soothing rhythm. It seemed only fair that she share her nightmare when she had glimpsed the dark stain on his soul. "I became aware something was wrong with my mother at a very early age. She would withdraw for weeks at a time, never noticing if I ate or slept or was hurt. She had no friends. She almost never left the house. She rarely showed interest or affection."
Jacques' hand slid over her hair in a caress, found the nape of her neck in a comforting massage. The distress in her voice was almost more than he could bear.
"I was six years old when I discovered I was different, that I needed blood. My mother had forgotten me for several days in a row. She just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I would go into her room every morning to kiss her good-bye before going to school. She never seemed to notice. As the days went by, I became so weak I couldn't walk across the room. She came to me, and I watched as she cut herself and bled into a glass. She told me I had to drink it - to drink blood often. After she died, I only used transfusions, but..."
She was silent for so long that Jacques touched her mind, felt her childhood self-loathing, her fears, and her sense of isolation. His arms tightened, drew her closer to his powerful frame, wanting to shelter her for all time. He knew what it meant to be alone. Totally alone. He never wanted her to feel like that again.
Shea felt the light brush of Jacques' mouth on her forehead, at her temple, in her hair. His tenderness warmed her when she was shivering inside. "My mother wasn't like me. No one was like me. I could never tell anyone, ask anyone about it. She took me to Ireland to hide me because when I was born, my blood was so odd it stirred interest in both the medical and scientific fields. I had to be transfused daily, but I still grew weak. When I was a few years old, two men came to our house and asked her a lot of questions about me. I could hear their voices, and I was afraid. I hid under the bed, afraid she might make me see them. She didn't. They scared my mother as much as they did me. She packed us up and moved us away."
You are certain your mother never touched blood?
Heprobed gently, afraid she would stop sharing what were obviously painful memories. He had no real way to ease her hurt except with the strength of his arms and the closeness of his body.
"Never. She was like a beautiful shadow already gone from the world. She thought only of him. Rand. My father."
The name touched a painful fragment of memory in him. It was so intense, he let it slip away before he could catch it.
You never met him?
The mere thought of the man she called her father brought splinters of glass stabbing through his head.
"No, he was married to a woman named Noelle."
Shocked recognition, an inconsolable grief, a woman once beautiful, beheaded, a stake through her heart. The memory was so vivid, so intense, Jacques choked, shoved the information far away from him. But he had recognized her.
Noelle.
Shea lifted her head, green eyes searching his black gaze. "You know her." She shared the memory in his mind, saw the same fragments of images. The glimpse sickened her, the brutality of that death. The woman had been murdered using the ritual "vampire" slaying techniques. Beheaded. The stake.
She is dead.
Hesaid it with certainty, with sorrow.
Shewas my sister.
Shea's face went white. "Did she have a son?"
A male child.
"Oh, God!" Shea tore herself out of his arms as if burned, leapt up and away from him, her arms covering her breasts, her eyes wild. "This gets worse every minute. My father was probably your sister's husband." She backed away from the bed in horror.
You do not know this. It is a big world.
"How many Rands are there from the Carpathian Mountains, someone like you? Someone married to a woman named Noelle, who gave birth to a boy? It was all in my mother's diary."
Vampire hunters drove a stake through her heart. Years ago. Years before they got me. I do not remember more. Perhaps I do not care to.
Shea found another shirt, dragged it on. "I'm sorry for her. I'm sorry for my mother. This is all so wrong." She waved a hand, encompassed the bed. "We're probably related or something."
Lifemates are born to one another, Shea. There is only one for each. What your parents or my sister chose to do with their lives has nothing to do with us.
"Of course it does. We don't know who you really are. We know virtually nothing about you. What I'm doing here with you is against the rules of my profession. We don't even know if you're married or not."
There is only one lifemate, Shea. I know this is all new and frightening to you, but as I must lie here in frustration, you must have patience. We are finding out information in bits and pieces. I cannot remember details I know are important to us. I ask that you be patient while we sort these things out.
Heshifted uncomfortably.
The movement brought her back to herself, calmed her as nothing else could. "You aren't taking care of yourself, Jacques. You can't be moving around." She bent over him, her hand cool on his burning skin. The hole below his heart was beginning to heal. Her long hair fell over her shoulder, brushed his abdomen with fire. The warmth of her breath as she leaned over him to examine the wound was like a dancing flame on his skin.
Jacques closed his eyes as every muscle in his body clenched in response. His reaction to her more than anything else told him that he was healing. His hand knotted in the silk of her hair.
I know you think to leave me, Shea, when I am at full strength.
Her enormous eyes jumped to his face, watched as he crushed her silky hair to his mouth.
You fear me. I can see the fear in your eyes.
Her tongue moistened her lower lip. She looked thoughtful. Jacques found her mind using its ability to shove her emotions aside as it did when she felt threatened in some way. Her intellect took over, assessing the situation between them. "I don't know what you are, Jacques, or, when you're perfectly well, what you're capable of doing. I know nothing of your past or your future. I'm a medical researcher, and, once you recover, it's very possible we won't have a thing in common."
His black gaze did not leave her face. Hard. Watchful. Even his body seemed utterly still.
You fear me.
He wanted her to face the real issue, not push it aside.
You have no reason to fear me.
She tilted her head to one side, red hair cascading in all directions. "You think I don't? Jacques, you threaten everything I have ever known about life. You changed me. If I was only half Carpathian, or whatever it is - vampire, maybe, I don't know at this point - you did something to bring me all the way into your world. I'm different now. I can't eat, I have no human bodily functions, and my hearing has increased even more. All my abilities. Everything. You took away the life I knew and replaced it with something neither of us knows anything about." She shook her head, then gave in to the desire to tangle her fingers in his jet-black hair. "I will not be like my mother, Jacques, living only for a man. When he deserted her, she waited only until she thought I no longer needed her, and she killed herself. That isn't love, it's obsession. No child of mine will ever suffer what her sick obsession with Rand put me through."
He breathed in her scent, and again the heat was upon him, scorching him with the urgent demand to bury himself in her, to become truly one.
I need you, Shea. Is it so impossible to think you might actually love me? I feel your complete acceptance of me. I know it is in you. Rand and your mother have nothing to do with us. You saw the darkness in me, the beast struggling for control, yet you remained. My imprisonment may have destroyed whatever I originally was, and I do not know who I am now. But I know that I need you. Would you really leave me alone?
She felt his despair. "Don't start believing you're a monster. The way you touch me sometimes, with such tenderness, that is no monster." Her body was restless, a need moving over her, through her, a need she had never known before. "You wanted me, Jacques, yet you stopped yourself. You're no monster."
Maybe my wounds stopped me, not my self control.
She had stopped him with her acceptance of the beast in him.
"You're tired, Jacques. Sleep for a while."
He caught her hand, his thumb feathering across the inside of her wrist.
Iam not a vampire. I have not turned.
"I don't understand."
He closed his eyes, smiled in his mind. She was back to using her professional, scientific voice.
You were worried that I had turned. Earlier, in the woods, you were afraid I was a vampire. Just now you thought our people might be vampire. We are Carpathian, not the undead. Unless we turn.
"Would you stay out of my head? Wait until you're invited."
If I waited for an invitation from you, little red hair, I would be centuries old before it ever came about.
The smile in his mind was just a little too sexy for her peace of mind.
I was merely attempting to ease your fears.
Now he sounded innocent.
She laughed softly. "Do I have naive stamped on my forehead?"
Has anyone ever complained about your bedside manner?
Shea raised her eyebrows. "I'm a surgeon. I don't need a bedside manner. And in any case, I've never had such an outrageous patient before. Stop calling me red hair.
And little red hair.
And all the other things you call me. Dr. O'Halloran is appropriate."
For the first time his sensuous mouth softened, curved into a grin. The effect on her was shattering. It wasn't right for a male to look that sexy. He should be banned from all female company.
Handsome and sexy. I must be getting somewhere after all.
Histone was lazy, teasing, a little bit husky.
Shea laughed softly. It was impossible to be annoyed with him when he was in this mood. "You are handsome and sexy, but don't let it go to your head. You're also arrogant, dominating, and too ruthless for my taste." She squashed him without a qualm.
Jacques tugged on her hand, drew her close to the bed so that he could bring her palm to the warmth of his mouth.
I am exactly to your taste.
She yanked her hand away as if he had burned her, rubbing her palm along her thigh. The feeling didn't go away, and neither did the butterflies he had sent winging in her stomach. "How do you know you're not a vampire?" She needed to distract him, distract both of them. "Maybe you forgot. You're certainly capable of acting like one."
This time he laughed, startling both of them. The sound was husky, low, and foreign to his ears, as if he had forgotten what it was like. His black eyes leapt to her face almost in fear.
"Not bad, wild man. First a growl, and now a laugh. We're making progress." Her eyes danced at him, reassured him.
Joy welled up in the midst of pain. Shea. She had created a world where his soul could somehow touch
light Vampires feel nothing but the momentary high a kill brings. They are amoral, deviant creatures.
Her chin lifted, eyebrows drawing together in concentration. "A kill?"
They always kill their prey when feeding. They do not place them in a trance. It feeds their high to experience their victim 's terror. They do not discriminate between man, woman, or child. The vampire has chosen to trade his soul for fleeting emotion.
"Do you kill?" Her fingers twisted together, and her breath seemed caught in her lungs. Why had she asked him that? She already knew the answer; she had glimpsed the darkness in him on more than one occasion.
Quite easily when necessary, but never my human prey. He
answered matter-of-factly, without real thought. It was instinct, his predatory nature.
"People, Jacques," she corrected.
"We are people." You are Carpathian.
"I don't even know what a Carpathian is. Do you? Do you honestly know? Maybe you do have a rare blood condition, and somehow it gives you extraordinary gills." Shea no longer seriously believed there was any hope of that. She was certain he knew the truth: he belonged to another species of people.
Exhaustion was winning the battle with Jacques. Mortal sleep was not rejuvenating, but until Shea became accustomed to her new life, he would not leave her unprotected. He closed his eyes.
Ihave existed for over eight hundred years. I existed before Leonardo Da Vinci.
The words were slurred in her mind.
She backed away from the bed until the wall brought her up short. Over eight hundred years? Shea pressed a hand to her head. What was he going to do next? Turn into a bat? A wolf? Nothing would surprise her now.
Iprefer the wolf given a choice.
There was a distinct smile in his voice, brushing in her mind. It softened the hard edges of his mouth, giving him that sensual, sexy look she could not resist.
You would, she sent back to him, inexplicable feelings for him spilling into her mind and heart.
There was so much about Jacques she didn't know. Just how powerful was he? If vampires actually existed, had they originated from Carpathians, as Jacques implied? Did that mean a cold, merciless killer nature lay buried in Jacques, waiting to surface? Seven years buried alive should do a great job of bringing any latent hostilities out. Nor could she put aside the possibility that he was completely insane. She felt the madness in him, his struggle to find his memories and the truth, to suppress the violence within him. She sighed softly, touched his hair with a fingertip, her heart melting at the sight of him, so vulnerable, like a little boy. What was it about him that tore her heart out every time she faced the fact that he would get well and she would have to move on?
I am very powerful.
Startled, Shea looked at him. Jacques hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed. "I'm sure you are." Did he need reassurance?
I have no intention of allowing you to leave me.
She laughed softly. "I was just thinking what a vulnerable, boyish look you have in your sleep. Now I think you're a spoiled brat."
I am more powerful than a vampire, little red hair. I hunt them down and destroy them. I will have no trouble keeping you at my side.
"I'll just have to make it my business to annoy you to the point that you'll be happy to get rid of me." She poured the last unit of blood into a glass for him. "I can do that, you know. My patients always are glad to see the last of me."
I may be insane, Shea. I have thought about it for a long while. I know my nature is that of a predator.
Hesounded very thoughtful, giving each of her worries his strict attention.
But if I am truly insane, then I cannot be without you. I will need you every moment by my side to ensure the safety of all mankind.
Shea started to laugh, but as his serious tone registered, her smile faded. He was not teasing her. He was being as honest as he could be. Jacques didn't know whether he was insane or not. "Sometimes, wild man, you break my heart," she said softly.
You want to leave me, Shea. I feel the need in you to put distance between us.
"I have spent more time with you than I have with anyone in my life. I've told you more about myself, talked, laughed, and... and... " She hesitated, blushing wildly.
Jacques opened his eyes, turned his head to look at her.
"Other things," she went on decisively. "It isn't like I'm thinking of deserting you. I just need space now and then, don't you?"
He merged with her immediately. At once she felt stark emptiness. A black void that could never be filled. Her heart beat hard, pounding in near terror. The world was gray and black, dark and ugly. There was no relief, no hope, only the terrible emptiness of total despair.
Her breath caught in her throat. She touched his hair with gentle fingers, ran a fingertip along his jaw in a small caress. "You really dislike being alone."
I think the word dislike is not nearly strong enough, he answered dryly. I cannot breathe unless you are close to me.
"I didn't realize it was so terrible for you. I'm sorry I was so insensitive, Jacques. I wasn't meaning to be. I have a tendency to plan things out far in advance. What you're picking up in my mind is something altogether different. Our situation is becoming desperate. I have to drive into one of the villages and get us some supplies. Blood, clothes for you." She held up a hand. Merged as she was with him, she felt his instant rejection of her plan. "We don't have a choice, Jacques. I'm going to have to leave immediately in order to get down to the village first thing in the morning."
No! It is not safe. I will not allow such a thing. It is too risky.
She ignored his protest. "It is the only way that I can get back here by nightfall. I don't want to leave you alone during the daylight hours, but we need blood, Jacques. You're not healing as fast as you expect because we don't have the amount of blood you need. And as much as I hate to think about it, I know you're supplying me with blood. I was so weak before, but now I'm stronger. You gave me your blood, didn't you?"
You cannot go.
She understood the terrible dread, the empty void he would feel if she left him alone now. The dark, ugly hole that swallowed him when he was without her. Her heart ached for him. To be imprisoned underground all those years, with no memory, only pain and darkness and starvation, had to have left mental scars.
I cannot be without you.
His hand found hers, his fingers lacing with hers, a bond. To him it was simple. She was his balance, his sanity, or what little remained of it. She was light to his darkness. She could not leave him. He carried her fingertips to the warmth of his mouth.
She felt the jolt of sensual awareness right down to her toes.
His mind was open to hers, the ultimate intimacy, so that she could feel his every emotion, read his every thought if she chose. Dark desires mingled turbulently with stark resolve to keep her close to his side. Isolation yawned like a black, empty hole. So alone. So much pain. Emptiness. Hunger. Always the terrible hunger consuming him. She found tears on her face. Her arms cradled his head, rocked him gently. "You're not alone anymore," she whispered. "I'm right here with you, Jacques. I'm not leaving you alone like this."
It is still in your mind to leave me. You cannot hide your intentions from me, Shea. I have explained countless times to you. You are my true lifemate. There cannot be deceit between us.
Shea laid her head gently over his. The dark emotions whirling within him were becoming alarming to both of them. Violence was mixed with terror. "I have never tried to deceive you. You know that. I don't lie to you, and I don't play games. We need the blood. You won't get better without it. There's no other way."
You cannot leave me, Shea.
This time his voice was a demand. He lost the indulgence often present when he conversed with her. All at once he was a being of enormous power, arrogant and commanding.
Shea sighed, her fingers caressing the strong bones of his face. "Don't go getting all bossy with me, wild man. We need to stay focused on our problem. We need blood. And I don't have any clothes that would fit you. Do you have a better idea?"
Wait until I am stronger and can go with you to protect you.
She shook her head. "You keep getting mixed up. I'm supposed to be protecting you. I'm your doctor."
You are my lifemate. There is only one. You are mine. Only one.
She lifted her head, green eyes searching his face. "You've never lived with a woman? You must have had sex."
Carpathians do not live with any other than their lifemate. Sex is a simple sharing of the body, a pleasure that fades along with emotions after two hundred years if we do not find our lifemate.
"I don't understand. Without a lifemate, Carpathians feel nothing?"
Nothing, Shea. Not affection or remorse, not right or wrong. Certainly not desire. After two hundred years Carpathian males cannot feel.
Color flooded her face. "You feel desire when you're with me. I may not be experienced, but I do have medical training."
His fingers tightened around hers, his breath warm along her knuckles.
Iwant you with every cell in my body, with my mind and my heart. Your soul is the other half of mine. When you are with me, I feel. Joy, desire, anger, even laughter. You are my lifemate. I have waited over eight hundred years to find you. I could not see color until you came into my life.
His black eyes, worn with suffering, fastened on her green ones.
I cannot lose you. I can never be alone again. Mortals and immortals alike would be in danger should I lose you.
She didn't want to touch that. She murmured his name softly, brushed a kiss against his temple almost without knowing it.
I cannot exist without you, little red hair. There is darkness in me. The beast is strong. I struggle every moment against loss of control. My lifemate is my anchor. Only you can save me, keep me from walking in complete madness.
Shea brushed the hair from his face with gentle fingers. "How do you know this? You've admitted you can't remember much."
I have opened my mind to you. You know it is true. You anchor me, and I can do no other than see to your happiness.
Shea couldn't help but smile. "You have no idea how arrogant that sounds. You aren't responsible for my happiness. I'm responsible for my own happiness. And at this moment, whether your macho pride can deal with it or not, I am the one responsible for your health and safety. We don't have time to wait until you're better. I have to go now. Every day we wait gives Don Wallace time to find us. When you're able to travel, we'll leave this place." Her hand caressed his thick mane of hair. "I have to go, Jacques. I'm not leaving you, I'm only going for supplies."
He retreated from her for a moment and as always, it was impossible to read his expression. His black eyes flickered.
I will go with you.
Shea sat up reluctantly, hating to have to prove her point but knowing she must thwart his resolve. "Then let's try going outside onto the porch. Let me do most of the work."
You think I cannot do this.
"I think your will is strong, Jacques, but your body is weak. Perhaps I'm wrong. I hope I am." She was silent as she made the preparations. She knew he couldn't do it, not without terrible pain. The gurney was narrow and uncomfortable. Shea padded it with a blanket. As she helped him from the bed to the gurney, he broke out in a sweat, but he didn't make a sound. With a sinking heart she pushed him out into the night air. Of course he would tolerate movement silently. He had endured torture and hours of surgery without painkillers or anesthesia. If he made up his mind to do this, he would do so without complaint.
Jacques pushed the pain aside, staring up at the stars, inhaling the night. His world - open air, the rush of wings, the high chirp of bats, the call of insects. He closed his eyes, the better to absorb the smells, the stories. His body resisted the physical exertion, crawled with pain, a dull-edged knife sawing away at his chest.
"Jacques, please don't be stubborn. I feel what you feel."
There is no need, Shea. Do not merge with me. I would not wish this on you.
"Please allow me to take you inside and get you into bed. Just this small amount of movement is hurting you. I won't take you to the village no matter what you say. If the circumstances were reversed, you wouldn't take me."
A slight grin curved his mouth.
If the circumstances were reversed, there would be no need to go to the village. I would call every human in the vicinity to nourish you.
There was a threat in his voice, subtle but still there, and she caught the echo of his censored thought.
No human would ever be safe from him if Shea were hurt.
Shea touched his forehead gently. "I'm safe, Jacques, and for now, I'm in charge."
He gave the mental equivalent of absolute derision.
This place is familiar to me.
He was surveying his surroundings now, a peculiar glow in his black eyes.
I know this place. Something happened here a long time ago that I should remember.
His hand went of its own volition to his throat, tracing the thin, almost nonexistent white line curving around his jugular.
Only a severe mortal wound can leave a scar.
He murmured it aloud under his breath, as if to himself.
Shea remained very quiet, holding herself still, wanting to allow any memory possible to come to Jacques.
I have been here, some time ago. Perhaps a quarter of a century.
Hishead ached, but the memory shimmered, solidified instead of slipping away. His black eyes moved restlessly over the clearing.
There was a fight here. A vampire, high and powerful from afresh kill. I had never fought one before; it was my first time. I was not prepared for his strength, his ferocity. Maybe I just could not believe one of my own kind, even turned, would do such evil.
He frowned in concentration, tried to catch more fragments and hold on to them.
I was guarding someone, someone important, someone who could not fall into the hands of the vampire. There are so few...
The last thought seemed to trail off. Shea merged her mind firmly with his, felt his confusion, his frustration at being unable to capture and pin down the information. Shea put a hand on his forehead, wanting to soothe him. Her touch was tender, her green eyes anxious.
So familiar. Not green, but blue.
A woman. Carpathian women are so few. We must guard them well, protect them. It was a woman I was guarding, and she was special. Our hope for the future.
Her heart nearly stopped. Jacques had fought for another woman, nearly lost his life, if the scar was any indication.
What woman?
Shea was totally unaware she had used the Carpathian lifemate's method of communication.
Through the pain of his body and his pounding head, joy and male amusement washed over him. His little red-haired doctor did not like the idea of another woman in his life.
She had blue eyes, and there were tears in them, such as you have in yours now.
He touched one glittering drop with a fingertip, brought it to his mouth to taste. His body, always voraciously hungry, absorbed that bead as if absorbing her very essence.
Who was she, Jacques? Or who is she?
Amale like Jacques, so handsome, sensual, intense - of course he had to have a woman stashed somewhere. Shea bit her lip so hard, two drops of blood beaded up.
Jacques tried to hold on to the fragments slipping in and out of his head. He sensed that the information was of great importance to both of them.
Shebelonged to another. He is...
Pain gripped his head in a vise and squeezed hard.
Shea laced her fingers through his. "Let it go, Jacques, we don't need it." She smoothed the hair from his forehead. "It will come in time. Look how much you've already remembered." It was shocking to her just how much of a relief it was to learn that the unknown important woman belonged to another.
If it is not some fantasy.
Itwas half humor, half self-censure. His hand came up, caught the nape of her neck, and pulled her down so that he could kiss her soft, trembling mouth. His tongue swept the ruby droplets from her full lower lip.
"I told you to stay out of my head." She returned his kiss gently, taking care not to jar him. "Let's go in and make you comfortable." It seemed harder for her to bear his pain than it was for him.
Another minute. Listen to the song of the night. The wolves call to one another in joy. Do you hear?
She did. How could she not? A distance away the pack lifted their muzzles skyward and poured out their happiness to one another. It was impossible to contain it within their bodies, and it flowed from their hearts, out their throats into the night. It was so beautiful, so pure, so much a part of their world. The notes, each different, unique to the individual animal, floated through the forest, lifted to the very heavens. She belonged here in this land. She belonged with the wolf pack, the mountains, and the night. She turned her head to look at Jacques, found him clutching his head as memories crowded in, jagged bits and pieces that teased and frustrated, that felt like piercing shards of glass.
I should remember him. Someone important. I remember the fight.
Hishand went once more to his throat.
The vampire slashed my throat. The woman saved my life. She pretended to be hysterical, but she packed the wound with soil and her saliva as she cried over me. The vampire took her. Why can I not remember the important one?
"Stop it right now!" Shea ordered sharply as she stroked away the crimson stain on his forehead. "I'm taking you back into the house this minute."
Shea.
Hername was a magic talisman, a soothing balm to his tortured mind.
I'm here with you, Jacques.
She merged with him immediately, held him close physically.
It will all come in time, I promise you.
His hand brushed her throat, the raw, ragged wounds and bruises that refused to heal. Without proper blood and the rejuvenating sleep of their people, her body could not heal itself.
Look at you, what I have done to you. And I cannot guard you, as I must, as is my duty. I am of little use to you.
Shea tugged at his hair, a tiny punishment. "I don't know, Jacques, you're more than adequate at giving orders." She maneuvered the gurney back into the cabin, then took the opportunity to put fresh sheets on the bed before helping Jacques onto it. "You know I have to go," she said softly.
Jacques lay very still, staying on top of the pain, drifting with it, grateful for the comfortable bed and her soothing touch. He loved the feel of her fingers caressing his hair, his forehead, stroking away his pain.
I cannot allow you to go unprotected.
His resolve was fading. She could tell he didn't like the idea, but he knew it was necessary.
"I'll be leaving you unprotected as well. But we can do this. It isn't as if either of us will really be alone. Does distance matter? Our bond is so strong, can't we use it across a few miles? After all, you called me from thousands of miles away."
His black gaze reflected pain, but he was becoming more resigned to the trip.
It is true, we can touch one another at will, but it consumes my energy. Over a distance it may be difficult.
"Only because I always let you do the work." Shea checked the loads in the shotgun and rifle and laid two boxes of cartridges beside the weapons, near his hand. "I'm getting good at this mind-reading thing. My mother was supposed to be psychic, and supposedly I inherited her gift. Who knows, maybe it's true."
Our bond is growing stronger with each blood exchange, with each passing moment we are together.
"So if we were apart I might stop wanting to be around you?" she teased. "If I had known it was that simple, I would have sat outside most of the time."
He caressed her silky hair.
I will allow you to do this thing, but do not he broke off the thought abruptly.
But not before Shea caught the echo of the primitive, territorial male. Her eyebrows shot up. Sometimes he reminded her more of a wild animal than a man. "Less of this allow stuff. It offends my independent nature."
She was smiling again, gently teasing him, and Jacques felt surrounded by her light. It seemed to shine through her vivid green eyes and lead him away from the yawning emptiness. She was making perfect sense, and in this moment of lucidity, he could do no other than acquiesce. Still, how was he going to be without her even for a short time? How would he survive as each minute, each second crawled by? Jacques closed his eyes, a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin at the thought of the darkness he would endure. The agony. The isolation.
"Jacques, don't. You said you could shut down your heart and lungs. If you do that, do you feel or think? Dream?"
Have nightmares? No, but I dare not sleep in the way of our people. When you are separated from me or you choose the sleep of mortals, I must remain alert.
"I'll be fine. Put yourself to sleep and escape for just a little while. I'll take off and get as far as I can tonight."
You must not allow anything to happen to you, Shea. You cannot comprehend how important it is that you come to no harm. I cannot be without you. You brought me back into this life. I know my mind is not right. You cannot desert me when I need you the most. I would not be able to find my way back from the madness of the beast.
"I have no intention of deserting you, Jacques," she assured him.
Do not forget that you must merge with me this time.
Therewas a trace of fear in his voice.
"I will check in often, Jacques. And you tell me if anything goes wrong on your end. Understand? No more of this chest-beating macho stuff."