Shea lifted her emerald gaze to the disturbing intensity of Jacques' black eyes. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his skin reaching out to her. His fingertips brushed the curve of her cheek, her mouth. His need of her was as elemental as the storm itself. It burned in him like the hot sizzle of electricity, like the slowly spreading heat of molten lava. "Need me, Shea." His voice ached with it. "Need me the same way I need you. I would give my life for you. Live for me. Find a way to live for me. Love me that much."
Her eyelashes swept down, raindrops glistening on the ends of the feathery crescents. "You don't know what you're asking of me."
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her frantic pulse. Each light caress sent flames dancing through her body. Her gaze once more reluctantly found his, her eyes filled with a kind of hopelessness.
"Of course I know what the cost is to you, little one. I feel your reluctance, your revulsion of our feeding habits." His hand slid to the nape of her neck, drew her close.
"I've tried to make the adjustment," she protested. "I need more time."
"I know that, Shea. I should have found another way to help you heal. I am trying to find out what kind of lifemate you have. I want to be what you need, someone you can respect and love, not someone who imposes his will and takes the expedient way out. There are ways, little love, to feed you without revulsion." His mouth found her pulse, felt it jump under the velvet rasp of his tongue.
His lips moved to her chin, the corner of her lips. His voice was husky, aching. "Want me enough, Shea. Want me with more than just your body. Let me into your heart." His mouth fastened on hers, not gently but wildly, hungrily. The hunger was in his eyes when he raised his head to look down at her. "Open your mind to me. Want me there, as you want me in your body. Want me coming to you wild with a need only you can satisfy. Take me into your soul and let me live there." His mouth was roaming every inch of her face, the column of her neck, the hollow of her shoulder.
His body burned and ached and needed. His heart tuned itself to the rhythm of hers. His mind was a haze of desire, erotic pictures, and sensual needs. It was filled with tenderness and love, an intensity that scorched her as much as the hunger in him. The heat of his mouth found her breast through the thin cotton of her shirt, claimed her. His body reacted savagely, painfully, his jeans tight and uncomfortable.
Jacques dragged her closer, the storm in him, around him, a part of him. "Make me whole. Shea. Do not leave me like this. Want me back. Need my body in yours. Have to touch me as I have to touch you."
Shea could feel it in him, the raging, wild desire, the dark, sensual hunger. His eyes held so much need, there was no way she could possibly refuse him. Her hands were already sliding over his defined, sculpted muscles, the wildness in her erupting every bit as stormily as the weather around them.
Her mouth fed on his; her hands pushed at his clothes, at hers, to rid them of the unnatural encumbrances. She couldn't get close enough to him; skin to skin was not going to do it. Jacques drew her shirt over her head, tossed it aside, nearly bent her backward to feed hungrily at her breasts. His hands slid up and down her sides, her narrow ribcage, the tiny waist.
"Let me into your heart, Shea," Jacques murmured along the creamy swell of her breast, against the frantic rhythm beating in tune to his. "Right here, little one, let me in." His teeth scraped her satin skin, his tongue caressed and stroked.
He dragged the jeans from her waist, pushed them down the curve of her slender hips. Dropping to his knees, he circled her hips with his arms, nuzzled the silk panties, burrowed deep. Shea cried out his name, and the wind whirled the sound and roared it back to her, surrounded her with him, with his scent and the strength of his desire.
"Want me, Shea. Like this. Like it is meant to be. Just like this. I have to have you. Out here in the middle of this storm. I have to have you right now." He ripped the silk panties aside, clutched her to him, feeding on flowing, honeyed heat. Her body rippled with pleasure, and she writhed against his attacking mouth, but he didn't stop, instead sending her over and over the edge.
Shea could only grab hold of his thick charcoal hair with her fist and hold on as the world rocked under her feet and the rain crashed to earth. Jacques somehow managed to do away with her shoes and drag the jeans from her body. She stood naked in the driving rain, so hot she was afraid the water would sizzle when it hit her skin.
"Do you want me, Shea?" This time his voice was hesitant, as if for all his strength, for all his power, one word from her would bring him crashing down. He was kneeling at her feet, his beloved face - so ravaged by torment, so beautifully male, so sensually Carpathian - staring up at her. He was lost without her; it was there for her to see. Raw. Stark. His total vulnerability. For just one moment the wind seemed to cease, and the storm held itself still as if the very skies were awaiting her answer.
"You can't possibly know how much I want you, Jacques, even if you're reading my mind." She pulled him to his feet, leaned forward to brush his lips with hers. "I want you in my heart. I always have." Her breath was warm on his chest. Her tongue tasted his skin, felt the answering jump of his heart. Her hands went to the buttons of his jeans, then slowly freed him from their tight confines.
A whip of lightning cracked across the sky, and for one moment his profile was lit up. His dark body, the taut muscles and his terrible need of her, was revealed starkly in the night. His eyes never left her, black and intense and so hungry. Shea's arms circled him lightly, and she touched her mouth to his flat, hard stomach. Jacques jumped as if she had burned him. Her palms followed the carved contours of his buttocks, lingered for a moment as if memorizing him. Then she was on her knees, her hand cupping him, stroking and caressing the velvet shaft. Her every movement sent a shudder of pleasure dancing through his body, a rush of flames leaping to engulf him.
Jacques caught a fistful of her red hair, soaked and darkened by the driving rain. He urged her forward, thrusting his hips aggressively, consumed with need for her touch. She was laughing softly, tauntingly, as the heated, moist interior of her mouth slid over him. He groaned and held her to him, lifted his face to the wild storm.
"You have to mean it, Shea. You cannot do this and not mean it." The words were torn from him, raw and hurting, as if from his soul.
She tightened her hold on him, followed his unintentional thrusting, deliberately enticed him further. He dragged her up, buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply to maintain a semblance of control. Hands spanning her waist, he lifted her.
"Put your legs around my waist, love." He was biting her throat gently, his teeth urgent, his tongue easing every ache.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, settled herself over him, felt the hard thickness of him pushing aggressively for entrance. He felt far too big, so hot she was afraid both of them would go up in flames. Before she could ease herself over him, he thrust upward, spearing her, filling her so completely that she cried his name. The sound was lost in the violence of the storm raging around them.
The rain ran down her face, off her pale shoulders, down her full, gleaming breasts to form beads at the peaks of her rose-colored nipples. Jacques caught the water in his mouth, his body thrusting hard into hers. Flames burned them, consumed them, leapt between them. She was fiery heat gripping him, holding him to her, drawing him deeper and deeper into the magic of her spell.
Jacques' mouth found hers again, a little brutally, feeding voraciously, dominantly, laying claim to her, branding her for all time. "Open your mind to mine." The whisper was once again against her throat She felt his mouth at the hollow of her shoulder, his teeth, the heat and beckoning hunger. "Give me your mind, Shea. Let me in and keep me there." The whisper was a sorcerer's web. He was weaving a spell so strong, she had no thought to deny him anything.
He surged into her body, pushed through the barrier into her mind, and claimed her heart. At once everything was different. He felt her pleasure, so intense she was nearly on fire with it. She felt his pleasure, reaching for the very stars, his body gathering strength, his wanting her fulfillment above his own. He wanted the world for her, ached to have her love him as he was, damaged and broken and nearly a madman. She could see into his soul, the barely leashed beast always striving for dominance, never quite conquered. She could see his fear of losing her, of being forever vampire, loathed and hunted by his own kind. And she could see his terrible need to protect her, keep her safe, and his need to please her. He wanted to earn her respect and love, be worthy of it. He made no effort to hide the demon in him, dark and ugly, so hungry for revenge, so in need of a keeper.
Shea allowed her childhood, stark and lonely, to flow into his mind, her fears of sharing her life, her need for control and discipline, her total desire for him and her secret dreams of children and a family.
Jacques' arms tightened, and he laughed softly, triumphantly. She had faced the worst in him, and her body was meeting his every thrust with a tight, fiery friction. Her mind was consumed with hunger and need for him and a fragile commitment she was determined to see through. He took her mouth as he took her body, wild and crazy and completely uninhibited. Thunder rolled and boomed, and she keened softly, clutching at him as her body clenched around his and exploded into the stars. His hoarse cry was lost in the fury of the storm as his entire body seemed to disintegrate, to soar and erupt with all the explosive power of a volcano.
Exhausted and sated, Shea lay her head on his shoulder as he leaned against the barreled trunk of the closest tree. The rains cooled the heat of their bodies, finally penetrated the wild desire and hot hunger that had shielded them from its onslaught.
Very gently Jacques lowered her feet to the ground, retaining possession of her waist to help her trembling legs hold her up. Shea raised a hand to push back her rain-slick hair. He caught her fingers and raised her palm to his mouth. "You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."
She smiled, shook her head at him. "You're crazy, you know that? This is one of the most magnificent lightning storms I've ever seen, and I didn't even notice until now."
He grinned at her suggestively, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Says something."
"Exactly," she agreed. "You're crazy, and I must be, too."
His hands cupped her bottom, drew her close against his hard frame, his face buried in the hollow of her shoulder as he savored the moment. He would never forget how he felt, how she looked, so wild and beautiful in the storm, and her complete acceptance of him with his shattered mind and leashed demons. "This will never go away, Shea, what we feel for one another. It never goes away. It gets stronger with each century. You never have to worry about losing this intensity."
He felt her smile against his bare skin, the small kiss she pressed into his chest. "I might not survive. I'm not sure I can stand up on my own."
"I can help you with that." There was a teasing, insinuating note in his voice, and she felt him press her closer, felt him thicken and harden against her stomach.
"You really are crazy. I hate to be a wet blanket, but it's raining all over us." She was laughing as she protested, her body moving subtly against his, unable to believe they could possibly do more than cling to one another after such a wild encounter.
He turned her so that she was against the tree, his large frame shielding her from the driving rain. Jacques' palms cupped her face, and he bent his head to hers, his mouth tender, loving, as he kissed her slightly swollen mouth. "I will never get enough of you, not if we live centuries." His palms moved over her breasts possessively down her flat stomach to rest there, fingers splayed wide. "I cannot wait to feel our child growing within you." His eyes darkened to black ice. "I never thought I could share you with anyone, but the thought of our child makes me want you even more."
"Slow down, wild man, I think we need to get to know one another better first. We're a couple of emotional cripples, and that doesn't make for great parenting."
He laughed softly against her mouth before he kissed her again. "I know what is in your mind and heart, little one. It is not so scary for me anymore. Once you make up your mind, you stick to it like glue. It is what makes you such a good researcher."
"Don't think you're going to get around me with sex. Just as you were in my mind, I was in yours. Don't think I didn't notice your tendency to want to dominate."
His hands were delving into shadows and hollows, finding all kinds of secret, sensitive places. His mouth slid down her throat, a bunting trail as he lapped up the water until he came to her breasts. "You do not think sex is a good idea in these situations?" His tongue swirled over her nipple; his teeth scraped lovingly along the contour of the creamy swell, followed it into the valley over her heart. "But you taste so good." His hand cupped springy curls, pushed against moist heat before his fingers tested the fire in her waiting sheath. "And you feel so good."
"You are so crazy," She couldn't help but laugh, pushing against his hand, using her own to stroke and caress and arouse him further. "I swear, Jacques, neither of us is going to be able to stand." She should have felt the cold, but the rain only added to the erotic moment, feeding the intensity of the flames growing between them.
Laughing, happy, Jacques backed her toward a fallen log, turning her around so that she faced away from him. Placing her hands on the moss-covered log for stability, he bent her forward so that he could place a kiss at the base of her spine. The light brush sent a shiver of excitement spiraling through her, a shudder of pleasure as his fingers assured him she was ready for him.
Catching her slender hips in his large hands, Jacques paused for a moment, marveling at the perfection of a woman's body, Shea's body. Her bottom was round and firm, well-muscled and inviting. "You are so beautiful, Shea, unbelievably beautiful." He pushed against her, prolonging the moment of entrance, watching the rain slide down her pale satin skin to meet the hard length of him.
"Jacques!" Shea pushed back against him excitedly, her body soft and yielding, wet and welcoming.
He drove into the tight, hot, velvet sheath so perfectly fitted to his body. The feel of her was ecstasy all over again, an experience he would never get enough of. Jacques thrust forward, hard and deep, wanting to fill her completely, needing to hear her soft, keening cries. It drove him wild, those little sounds coming from her throat, the way her body pushed back to meet his. The rain seemed a part of it all, surrounding them like a veil, sliding over their hot bodies, sensitizing their skin. He felt her around him, a part of him, one body, truly together, with the earth moving around them and the heavens ripped apart by their passion. He could feel every muscle in his body taut and ready, waiting, waiting, the perfect moment with her body clenching around his, taking his seed from him as he surged into her again and again, a torrent of color and beauty and miraculous pleasure. He felt her open to him, her mind and heart and soul, softly feminine, exquisitely woman, all his. Her pleasure matched his own beat for beat, shudder for shudder. He had to hold her to keep himself on his feet, and they collapsed together into the soaked vegetation.
Holding each other, the rain cooling their bodies, they laughed like children. "I expected steam this time," Jacques said, crushing her to him.
"Can you do that?" Shea fit the back of her head into the niche of his sternum. One hand idly slid over the heavy muscles of his chest.
"Make us so hot we turn the rain to steam?" He grinned boyishly down at her, for the first time so carefree that he forgot for a moment the torment he had suffered. She made him invincible. She made him vulnerable. Most of all, she made him alive.
"No, really - what they did, those others. They were like fog or mist. Can you really do that?" Shea persisted. "I mean, you said you could, but I thought maybe you were delusional."
His eyebrows shot up. "Delusional?" Jacques flashed a cocky grin, held out his arm, and watched as fur rippled along the length of it, as the fingers curved and extended into claws. He had to make a grab for Shea as she scrambled away from him, her eyes enormous. Jacques was careful not to hurt her with his strength.
"Stop laughing at me, you brute. That's not exactly normal." A slow smile was beginning to curve her soft mouth. She couldn't help but be happy for the innocent joy he found in each piece of information that came to him, each new memory of his gifts.
"It is normal for us, love. We can shape-shift whenever we like."
She made a face. "You mean all those hideous stories are true? Rats and bats and slimy worm things?"
"Now, why would I want to be a slimy worm thing?" He was openly laughing. The sound startled him; he couldn't remember laughing aloud.
"Very funny, Jacques. I'm so glad you find this amusing. Those people actually formed themselves out of fog, like something in a movie." She gave a punch to his arm for emphasis. "Explain it."
"Shape-shifting is easy once you are strong. When I said we run with the wolf, I meant it literally. We run with the pack. We can fly with the owl and become the air." He pushed back the wet hair framing her face. "Why is it you are not cold?"
Shea sat up, astonished at the notion. She wasn't cold, not really. She became cold when she thought about it, but she hadn't been. "Why wasn't I?"
"Carpathians regulate their body temperature naturally. Illusion is also an easy thing to master. Clothes do not have to be bought unless we wish it. Most of the time we are very careful to follow human ways." He kissed the top of her head. "You can pretend to be cold if that will make you feel better."
"I don't like the idea of staying here, Jacques, staying so close to the others. I feel like I can't breathe. But maybe it's only because I don't exactly see people turning into fog every day. Maybe we should stay a little longer and learn a few things from them."
"I can teach you how to shape-shift." He sounded annoyed.
Shea nipped his throat. "I definitely do not want to learn how to shape-shift. I'm still on square one, learning to share my life and my body with another person. But if I ever do want to be a rat or something like that, I promise only you will teach me. I'm talking about other things, like how the healer made you well so quickly."
Jacques swallowed his protest quickly. She actually sounded excited, not scared. He didn't like the idea of another man near her, another man spending time with her. But she was a healer, and Gregori could teach her much. He wanted her to be happy.
He reached for his memories.
Gregori. The dark one.
Ancient and powerful. Solitary. "He is always alone." Carpathians whispered of his power, rarely used his name or spoke it aloud. "The healer always roams the earth seeking knowledge. He does not stay among our kind. There is none more dangerous, yet none more dedicated to preserving our race. Mikhail is his friend. They understand and respect one another."
Shea burrowed closer to Jacques' body, a protection from the storm. "I can't believe you're remembering all of this. It's amazing, Jacques. Does your head ache?"
He rubbed his forehead even as he shook his head to deny it. The truth was, the pain was splintering and cracking the inside of his mind. For her, he could endure anything. "His one apprentice was only half a century younger than Gregori and Mikhail. He was different even in appearance. A loner like Gregori. He, too, searched for knowledge. He spoke most languages like a native and served as a soldier in many different armies. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the same heavy muscles Gregori has. His hair was long and blond, very rare among our people. His eyes were gold, pure gold. Gregori allowed him to learn the art of healing from him. They were seen together on and off over a number of years all over the world."
"Who is he? Is he still alive?" Shea was intrigued.
"He is named Aidan, and he has a twin. He often hunted with us." His head was throbbing and threatening to explode if he continued.
"Hunted what?" Shea held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
"Beautiful women, little one, and I was the one who found you after all." His white teeth gleamed at her, a definite leer.
"Don't put me off like that." She had already taken advantage, sliding easily into his mind and picking out the pictures of danger and revulsion. Fear even. Not so much of their adversary, but of themselves turning into the very thing they sought to destroy.
Jacques, unprepared for her entrance into his mind, had been confident he could keep the grimmer side of their existence watered down for her. Shea had always been reluctant to enter his mind; it hadn't occurred to him that she would do so whenever she wanted.
His expression was so rueful that Shea burst out laughing. "Where I grew up, that's called being caught with your pants down."
He looked down at his body, glistening with the rain. His grin was self-mocking, his black eyes amused. "Literally."
"So where is Aidan now? Was he killed?"
Jacques' mind refused to relinquish the information at first. He had to go over and over the pieces to the puzzle, looking for an answer. Because it was hurting him, Shea rubbed lovingly at his arm. "Don't try anymore."
"The United States. The last I remember, he and his people went to the States to control the vampire problems there. Vampires no longer stay here in the mountains where they are easily hunted. If Aidan is still alive, or if he has not turned" - he frowned over the possibility - "then he must still remain there, far from our land."
"What do you mean by his people? A lifemate? A child?"
"He had no lifemate the last that I knew of him. As he is almost as old as Gregori and Mikhail, the danger to him has increased. The older the Carpathian male, the more difficult he finds it to maintain civility."
"Then Gregori is a risk also." Shea found herself shivering at the idea.
"Gregori is the biggest danger of all, and Aidan is not far behind him. Yet Aidan has a family of sorts. Humans, generations that have served him faithfully. He has given them a fortune, yet they choose to stay with him. Mother to daughter. Father to son. He is the only Carpathian I know of that has such a family."
Lightning flashed, and on its heels thunder crashed almost overhead. Shea stiffened, the smile fading from her lips and eyes. Her open palm went to Jacques' chest, held him away from her. All at once the welcoming forest and wild storm were no longer a sensual playground but a dark and sinister world. Shea scrambled to her feet, swiveling around, inspecting the darkened woods. Jacques rose with fluid grace, circled her waist with his arm protectively.
"What is it?" Instantly he was scanning the area around them, seeking outside himself to reveal his enemies. He stepped in front of Shea to block any threat to her. He found nothing that alarmed him, but Shea's mind held real fear.
Shea stepped away from him, eyes anxiously sweeping the forest around them. She caught up her shirt, held it protectively against her body.
"The others are far away," Jacques said, but he moved again to place himself squarely in front of her in an effort to protect her from the unseen enemy.
"There is something out there, Jacques, something evil watching us." She dragged her shirt over her head quickly. "I know. I always know. Let's get out of here."
Jacques waited for her to pull on her jeans before stepping into his own. His every sense was flaring out to the night, searching for anything to prove her right. He could detect nothing, yet her uneasiness was beginning to seep into his blood- I stream. He could feel himself bristle like a wolf ready for attack. "Describe what you feel to me. Let me into your mind fully." It was an imperious order.
Shea obeyed without thought. Dark, malevolent, something not human, not Carpathian, crouched in the storm, watching with red, feral eyes, watching and hating. She had the impression of sharp, dripping fangs and unsheathed claws. Not animal.
Vampire, Shea. He is out there now.
Thewords were a soft whisper in her mind. Jacques "saw" through her mind, caught the impressions that identified the killer stalking them.
You must obey me at once, everything I say. Do you understand? Yes, of course. Where is he? I do not know. I can neither smell him nor hear him. But what is in your mind is vampire. As you have never seen one I before and the impressions are so strong in your mind, I can do no other than believe this is real. Stay close to me. If he attacks, run. I would never leave you.
Herchin went up, and she looked mutinous.
I'm perfectly capable of helping you. He would use you to defeat me. I have fought them before.
Hisbody was crowding hers, urging her back down the trail toward their cabin. He was not looking so much with his eyes as with his entire being.
Shea moved quickly, tried to concentrate on the strong feeling inside her.
Whatever was tracking them so silently through the dense forest was exuding a black hatred that made her feel weak. Her heart was pounding in alarm. The thing was sinister, so evil and perverted she could feel the heaviness in the clean, rain-soaked air.
To their right, a strange fog glowed eerily, streamed through the rain and wound through the trees. It moved forward at knee level coming straight toward them now.
Shea felt her heart in her throat. She touched Jacques' back for reassurance. He stopped, seemingly relaxed, his muscles coiled and ready, like a panther awaiting its moment. She could feel it in him, his readiness, so still and confident.
As the fog grew closer, only several yards away now, the moisture began to stack itself higher and higher, the droplets connecting and forming the shape of a man. Shea wanted to scream with fear, but she stayed very still, afraid of distracting Jacques.
Byron's form shimmered for a moment. She could actually see the tree behind the mist, and then he was solid, standing with the curious elegance of the Carpathian male. He lifted his eyes from the ground to meet Jacques' icy-black gaze. "We have been friends for centuries, Jacques. I cannot remember a time in my life that we did not run together. It is strange and sad to me that you can look at me and not know me."
Shea, behind Jacques, stirred uncomfortably. Byron's sorrow appeared more than he could bear. She wanted to reach out to him, make an attempt to ease his obvious suffering.
Do not!
The command was sharp in her mind, clear and in a tone that brooked no argument. Jacques remained motionless, as if carved from stone. Byron's words did not appear to move him in any way.
Byron shrugged, his face twisted with pain. "When we thought you were dead, we searched for your body. Months, years even. You were never out of our thoughts. You were my family, Jacques, my friend. It was hard to learn to be completely solitary. Gregori and Mikhail and even Aidan survived the centuries because, as alone as they had to be, they had a bond, an anchor to keep them strong through the bleak centuries. You were mine. Once you were gone, my struggle became immense."
When Jacques remained silently on guard, Shea pushed at his back.
Can 't you hear his grief? He 's reaching out to you. Even if you can't remember him, help him. You do not know if he has turned or not,
Jacques reprimanded her.
Youfelt the presence, and here he is. A vampire can give the illusion of purity, of anything he chooses. Stay behind me!
"I just wanted to tell you I am glad you are back, and I am happy for you that you found your lifemate. It was wrong of me to be envious. I should have been more cautious about judging what I did not understand." Byron raked a hand through his dark hair. "I am going away for a while. I must to gain the strength to get through the years."
Jacques nodded slowly. "I am going to the healer to try to repair the damage done to my mind. I have noticed Gregori's relationship with Mikhail seems to be strong even though Mikhail has a lifemate. I would wish that if all that you say is true, when I am healed, we can resume our friendship."
The wild winds were dying down. The rain beat down in a steady drone, and the air seemed heavily oppressed. Byron nodded tiredly and managed a wan smile that did not light his eyes. "I wish the best for you both, and I hope that you have many children. Try to make them female for my sake."
"When will you return?" Jacques inquired.
"When I am able." Byron's form began to waver, to fade, so that they could see through the transparent shape.
Jacques' body crouched lower in readiness, a fluid movement that was barely discernible. Instinctively Shea moved back to give him more room. It seemed a good idea to err on the side of caution. Jacques had never once let down his guard, where Shea would have rushed to comfort Byron compassionately. She inhaled the night, suddenly depressed. On the wind came the oppressive hatred the forest seemed to reek of. She searched Jacques' impassive face. He didn't seem to notice, his attention on the mist streaming away from him. Did he feel it? If it wasn't Byron causing it, why hadn't Byron felt it? Her analytical mind examined the question. She had assumed Jacques couldn't feel the presence because his mind was so fragmented.
"We will return using a different route, Shea. We cannot stay in the cabin." Jacques caught her hand in his and pulled her through the trees. "It is no longer safe."
Shea had the vague impression of a twisted, malevolent smile. Silent laughter, grimly amused. She shook her head to rid herself of the image, afraid she was hallucinating.
Jacques?
Her voice trembled with uncertainty.
His fingers tightened around hers. "There is no need to worry, we will find suitable shelter. I would never allow you to be harmed." He drew her hand to the warmth of his mouth with remarkable tenderness. "You feel the undead one. Is it Byron?"
"I don't know if it's Byron. I just know it is something very evil. Let's leave this place, go to a city with bright lights and lots of people."
He tucked her protectively beneath his shoulder and matched his gait to hers. Instinctively he knew they would be vulnerable in a city. They were Carpathian, not human. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to give himself time to search for the right words. "If a vampire is marking us for his attentions, we will only be placing innocent humans in harm's way. They have very few defenses against the undead."
"He is watching us, Jacques. I know you can't feel him, but he's out there."
Jacques believed her. Once again he sought the pictures in her mind, heard the eerie sound of taunting laughter echoing in her head. He swore softly. "When Byron found you in the village, are you certain he did not take your blood?"
"I would have told you. He bent his head toward mine, I could feel his breath on my neck, and his teeth touched my skin, but I jerked away from him. He barely pierced the skin." She reached up and covered the spot where the pinprick had been. "In any case, he apologized to you. Couldn't you see his sadness? It broke my heart."
His arm tightened for a moment, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You are so compassionate, love, and very trusting. A vampire can appear to be the epitome of beauty, of genuineness itself."
She skipped a little to keep up with his ever-quickening pace. "I don't think so, Jacques. I recognized beauty in you when you appeared to be a monster. I knew there was something beyond what I could see. I think I would recognize evil just as well."
"It was the call of our souls to one another that you recognized. We are lifemates, bound together even when apart."
"Call it anything you like, but I think I would know if Byron were truly the vicious creature I feel watching us. It hates."
"Only Gregori gave you blood. And I."
"If I were you, I would not bring up the fact that you forced me to take that spell-casting healer's blood." She twisted away from him, annoyed all over again. "How could you betray me that way?"
With great male superiority he glanced down at her face. "Your health comes before your pride." The truth was, he was ashamed he had forced such a choice on her, yet he was grateful it was over and she was not nearly as weak as she had been.
"Says you. I hope he bled a long time before he closed that wound. And don't talk to me anymore, because you're being arrogant, and I can't stand you when you're arrogant." She stumbled, her legs already tired.
"If you had done as I said, you would be at full strength, your body healed from its ordeal," he pointed out, smug male amusement deliberately in his mind to tease her.
She stopped walking so abruptly, his arm jerked her forward. "Do you have any idea where we're going? I'm lost out here. Everything is beginning to look the same to me. And stop with that cute little grin you always get in your mind. You think you can get around me with it, but you can't."
He tugged at her arm, his black eyes restless, searching the forest around them. He could still feel the dark malevolence through Shea. "I can always get around you, little red hair," he answered tenderly. "You are not capable of holding a grudge."
The feeling of hatred was oppressive. Jacques' gentle teasing was comforting, and she was oddly grateful for it. She tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm. "Don't count on my good nature, Jacques. You do remember what they say about people with red hair."
"That they are great lovers?"
She laughed in spite of the waves of black malice washing over her continually. "You would think that."
At her laughter, the air thickened around them so that for a moment she was choking on hatred. Unable to stand it another minute, not thinking of the consequences, she whirled around to face the murky forest behind them. "If you want us so badly, you coward, come out into the open and introduce yourself!" She tilted her chin at Jacques. "There. He can come or not. I don't feel like being hunted down like some animal."
Jacques could feel her trembling beside him. It worried him that he had inadvertently forced her into a position of accepting too many new things at one time. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, dragged her close, the black eyes burning down into hers. "No one will ever harm you. Not ever. They may attempt to do so, but they will not survive." He took a deep breath before his confession. "I was not aware that you were not Carpathian. I was not capable of knowing much at all at that time. I inadvertently converted you. I would like to say I am sorry, but in truth, I am not. I did not know what I was doing, and I hope I would have done it differently had I known better, but you are my life, Shea. There is no existence for me without you. I would have nothing to live for except revenge, and I would become the undead. I do not want to be vampire, preying on humans and Carpathians alike. You are my salvation."
She pushed him away from her. The rain swept over her face as she lifted emerald eyes filled with laughter to his. "That's it? That's your big apology? I can see you're not going to be a candy-and-flowers man." She set off quickly. "Don't talk to me, you uncivilized maniac. I don't even want to hear the sound of your voice."
Jacques forced back the smile that seemed so ready to curve his hard mouth. Shea had a way of making even dangerous situations seem a game where laughter was always close at hand. She managed to find ways to make his madness, the terrible, unforgivable way he had treated her at their first meeting, seem casual, "Can I put my arm around you?" Even while his eyes scanned, they held a gleam of merriment.
"You're talking, I said don't talk to me." Shea tried sticking her nose in the air, but it felt ridiculous, and she dissolved into undignified giggles.
His arm curved around her slender waist and locked her under his shoulder. "I am sorry. I did not mean to speak when you asked me not to. Turn here. I'm going to have to carry you up."
"Don't talk. You always get your way when you talk." She walked with him a few more yards and stopped, staring up a sheer cliff face that seemed to go up forever. There had been no division between the forest and the rock face to warn her. "Up what? Not that." The dark, malevolent feeling had faded away. Whoever it was no longer was watching them. She could tell.
"I feel another argument coming on." His mocking amusement might not have shown on his face, but she could feel it in her mind. Jacques simply lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder.
"No way, you wild man. You aren't Tarzan. I don't like heights. Put me down."
"Close your eyes. Who is Tarzan? Not another male, I hope."
The wind rushed over her body, and she could feel them moving fast, so fast the world seemed to blur. She closed her eyes and clutched at him, afraid to do anything else. His laughter was happy and carefree, and it warmed her heart, dispelling any residue of fear she carried. It was a miracle to her that he could laugh, that he was happy.
Tarzan is the ultimate male. He swings through trees and carries his woman off into the jungle. He patterns himself after me.
She nuzzled his back.
He tries. He could hear the love in her voice, the tenderness, and his heart turned over. They had a long way to go before knowing one another fully, before accepting one another, but the love between them was growing stronger with every moment they were together.
