Dark Celebration (6 page)

"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?"