Dark Desire (22 page)

“Shea has seen them.” Jacques watched warily as Mikhail approached, still not trusting himself with the man who had come so close to strangling Shea. “They have nearly caught her twice.”

“Feed, Jacques. I offer my life freely to you as you have so many times done for me.” Mikhail slashed his wrist and held it out to his brother.

The moment the richness spilled into his mouth, the taste and surge of power brought a rush of fragments of memories. Mikhail laughing, pushing Jacques from a tree branch playfully. Mikhail's body crouched low, protectively, in front of his as a vampire with brown-stained teeth began to grow long, dagger-like nails. Mikhail holding Raven's limp body, a river of blood, the earth and sky erupting all around them while Mikhail looked up at Jacques with the hopeless resolve to join his lifemate in her fate.

Jacques' eyes jumped to Mikhail's face, examined every inch of it. This man was a leader, a dangerous, powerful predator who had skillfully steered their dying race through centuries of pitfalls. One whom such as Gregori chose to follow. Something stirred inside Jacques, the need to protect this man, to shield him.
Mikhail
.

Mikhail's head jerked up. He heard his name echo clearly in his head. The path had been there for one heartbeat, familiar and strong; then just as quickly it was lost.

Jacques was so distracted by the pieces of memories floating in his mind, his hold on Shea slipped. Shea felt his inattention and gathered herself, waiting, waiting. The moment the compulsion lifted, she wrenched her head from Gregori's wrist and leapt away. Jerking the heavy door open, Shea fled into the fury of the storm.

The air in the cabin stilled, thickened with a kind of malevolent darkness. Jacques' features were a granite mask, his black eyes flat and hard. He took one last swallow of the powerful liquid, carefully closed the wound, and lifted his head. “I thank you for your assistance, but I must ask you to leave. Perhaps tomorrow night you will try your hand at mending my mind, healer.” His gaze was on the night, a dark purpose creeping into his tone.

“Jacques…” Raven ventured hesitantly. This stranger was more beast than man, not the gentle brother-in-law she had known. At one time, Jacques had been filled with lazy amusement, with laughter and boyish pranks. Now he was a being without mercy, dangerous, insane perhaps.

Mikhail silently pulled her from the cabin, his body already beginning to lose form.
They have to work it out themselves, my love.

He seems so dangerous.

He cannot harm his lifemate.
Mikhail tried valiantly to believe it. There was a darkness in Jacques, a truly frightening void none of them could breach.

Gregori hesitated in the doorway. “Take precautions when you sleep, Jacques. We are hunted.” He, too, shimmered, dissolved, and streamed into the night.

Gregori, will he harm her?
In spite of his reassurance to Raven, Mikhail felt he couldn't take any chances with Shea's health. If anyone could assess the damage to Jacques' mind, it was the healer.

He thinks to punish her impetuous behavior,
Gregori replied softly,
but I can feel his mind turning to hers, taking in her overwhelming emotions. He tries to be angry with her, but it will not stay in his mind
.

The blood from the ancients had given Jacques his full strength. He felt his immense power, savored it once again. On bare feet he padded across the room to the door and inhaled deeply. Despite the storm, he knew exactly where Shea was. He was in her mind at all times, never separated. He could feel her wild emotions, her panic and desperation, her need to escape the mountains, the Carpathians. To escape him.

You will return to me, Shea
. It was a clear order, and he hoped she would obey him, hoped he would not have to force her.

Shea leapt over a rotting log and stopped abruptly under
the canopy of a huge tree. The command was stark, impressive in its absence of emotion. She recognized anger in herself. It was new to her. Brand new. She couldn't remember being angry before. Shea was usually careful not to feel anything at all. She preferred to analyze things.

Please try to understand, Jacques. I won't be a part of this.

I will not argue long distance with you. Come to me now
.

For strength Shea clutched at an overhead tree branch. Jacques' lack of inflection frightened her more than his anger could have. She sensed a power in him, a total confidence.
I won't come back. I can't. Just live your life, Jacques. You have it back now
. If Jacques had really felt no emotion in centuries, then he would be struggling just as she was to stay in control. Everything seemed so intense. She wanted the calm, tranquil world she understood, where her brain ruled and emotions could be pushed aside.

You cannot possibly win this battle, Shea
. It was a warning, nothing less. The tone was devoid of any feeling whatsoever.

Why does it have to be a battle? You need to accept my decision. I have the right to leave.

Come to me, Shea
. There was iron strength in his command. This time he exerted a subtle but frightening pressure.

Shea pressed both hands to her head.
Stop it! You can't force me.

Of course I can
. Even as the words echoed in his mind, he realized they were true. He could do almost anything. He stepped off the porch into the driving rain and stretched his muscles lazily, reveling in their response. He was truly alive again. He could easily bring her to him, bend her will to his. She needed to learn that Carpathian women were under their lifemate's protection at all times. She never took precautions, never scanned her surroundings; she never took care for her own protection.

Was that the kind of man he had become? Had he always been so? Someone willing to force his will on the one person who cared for him, risked her life for him? Was it so much to ask that he give her time to adjust? Jacques rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

She was so fragile, so vulnerable. Shea could brave the wildest river or highest mountain. She had the strength to handle any crisis, but not her own emotions. His competent little redhead was terrified of her feelings for him. Her childhood had been a nightmare. He could not allow her life with him to become the same thing.

Jacques actually felt the curious melting in the region of his heart, the surge of heat that rushed through his bloodstream.
Little one, why do you persist in fighting me?
His voice, whispering so softly in her mind, was filled with tenderness.
Do you know what will happen to you without me?

Her entire being responded to the velvet caress of his voice, the rising tide of love. If he had continued to argue and chastise, she would have had a chance, but the moment he spoke in that tender, caressing way, she was lost. At once she felt overwhelming despair. She could never be free of him, never.

Is that such a terrible fate, love?
His voice turned her heart over.
To be with me?
This time there was a single thread of hurt.
Am I truly such a monster then?

I don't know how to be with you. I feel trapped, like I can't move or think.
Shea pressed her fingers to her temple, her back to the tree.
I don't want to need you. I don't want to be with any of them.

He was moving steadily toward her, not fast, not slow. The rain drove down on his broad shoulders, glistened off his back. The coolness only added to the gathering heat in his body. She seemed small and defenseless. With each step into the night, with the soil beneath his feet, and the ancient's blood flowing in his veins, his strength grew.

I need you just to breathe, Shea,
he admitted starkly.
I am sorry that terrifies you. I wish that I had more control, but I cannot be alone like that, not ever again. I try to keep my presence in you but a shadow. Perhaps with time I can let go a bit. Being with me terrifies you, but being without you terrifies me.
A note of amusement crept in.
We are so compatible.

Shea knew he was coming toward her; she could tell by the way her heart pounded in anticipation, the way her body came alive. She buried her face in the crook of her arm, hanging on grimly to the branch above her.
You don't know me, Jacques.

I am in you. I know you. You are afraid of me, of what I can do. You are afraid of my instability, my power. You fear what I am and what you have become. Yet you are strong and determined that no harm shall come to me. You know your brain is excited at the possibilities of the existence of our race.
His laughter was soft and inviting.
I am your lifemate, bound to treasure you, cherish and protect you. Always see to your happiness. And you have the same abilities as I.

Your first thought was to force me back to you,
she accused him.

Shea, my love, you never think to scan, never check for danger. And you cannot exist without me. It is my duty and my right to protect you.

What happens to me if you die? What happens to you if I die?
She knew the answer; she had watched her mother's empty life.
This is obsession
. She said the words aloud so that the wind could carry them through the mountains. “I won't be like her.” She lifted her face to the driving rain so that the drops ran down her face like tears. It was too late. She couldn't survive without Jacques. Wasn't she just like her mother after all?

He came out of the night so beautifully male that he took
her breath away. His black eyes moved over her possessively, curiously predatory.

Shea shook her head. “I'm not strong enough, Jacques.” The wind whipped at her, nearly drove her sideways.

“Choose life for us, Shea, for our children. I will not be easy to live with, but I swear to you, no one could love you more. I will do anything to make you happy.”

“Don't you see? You can't make another person happy. I'm the only one who can do that for myself. And I can't do this.”

“You are just afraid. We both have some problems, Shea. You fear the intimacy and I lack of it. It is simply a matter of meeting somewhere in the middle.”

His voice was so soft, she felt it on her very skin, as if his fingertips were skimming over satin in the lightest caress. Jacques stepped closer, beneath the tree's canopy, his dark eyes intense. “Choose me now, Shea. Need me. Want me. Love me. Choose life for us.”

“It shouldn't be like this.”

“We are not human. We are Carpathian, of the earth. We command the wind and the rain. The animals are our brethren. We can run with the wolf, soar with the owl, and become one with the rain itself. We are not human, Shea. We do not feed on flesh as humans do, and we do not love as humans do. We are different.”

“We are hunted all the time.”

“And we hunt. It is the cycle of life. Shea, look at me.”

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, re
taining 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 burning 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. Plac
ing 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.