Dark Desire (15 page)

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.
He said it with certainty, with sorrow.
She was 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.
He shifted 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.
I am 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.
His tone 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 gifts." 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.
I have 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.
I prefer 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.
He sounded 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."