Dark Desire (24 page)

Shea's soft little keening cries were muffled against him, yet they echoed in his mind. His body craved hers, more and more, harder and faster and deeper. He drove on and on, reaching for the stars, the universe, reaching for the meeting of their souls. Her blood fed his insatiable hunger, no taste ever better, so erotic and perfect that he indulged himself, giving himself up to lust and greed and wave after wave of unbearable pleasure.

Her body gripped his, shuddered, clenched, and the earth itself seemed to roll and shake. Molten heat coiled around him like a volcano, and he was crying out, his seed spilling into her, his body going up in her flames.

Jacques became aware of her blood trickling between her breasts. In the ecstasy of the moment, he had neglected to close the tiny pinprick he'd made. His tongue stroked gently, tracing the bright trail, and his body reacted as hard and as needy as ever. Her hunger was in his mind, her desire wrapped in age-old need. "Yes, my love," he whispered against her throat. "Need me the way I need you. Let me give to you everything that I am. Take from me what only I can give you."

Her mouth moved over his neck, his throat, and his body raged at him, swelled and hardened to fill her completely. His heart jumped as her lips caressed his chest. Her tongue swirled around his flat nipples, moved over his heart in little nibbling motions. Jacques pulled back, waiting breathlessly, waiting while his body screamed at him to bury itself in her once again, to take her over and over.

"Just once, Shea, say you need me, too," he whispered.

She lifted her head, her green eyes moving over his sensual face, meeting his black eyes. She smiled a slow, sexy, very wicked smile. Then she dropped her head down to his chest, stroked the heavy muscles with her tongue. Her teeth scraped once, twice, teasingly, then sank deep.

Jacques' voice was hoarse in his mind, in the darkness of the room. The sensation was beyond his imaginings. His body plunged wildly into hers as she drank from him. His palm held her head to him, pressed her closer as his body took hers again and again. He could never get enough. Colors whirled and danced, and the earth shook, and he soared higher and higher, taking her with him in body, mind, and soul. In that perfect moment she was his, her life connecting wholly with his for all eternity. Two halves of the same whole, never to be apart again. His release was shattering, Shea with him every step of the way. They erupted into the heavens and floated together to earth, Jacques anchoring them safely.

Shea's tongue closed the wound over his heart, and they lay spent, their bodies locked together, so close that their minds and limbs were still rocking with the aftereffects. Little shocks sent shivers of pleasure through them, in them.

Shea lay very still, unable to grasp the wonder of what had happened. She knew it was forever. She knew he had somehow completed the ritual of binding them together. Her body felt as if it didn't belong to her, that he had taken possession of and failed to return some intrinsic part of her. She appeared outwardly calm, but panic was welling up, fear, sheer terror. She had always been alone; she knew no other way.

Jacques' hand stroked the length of her hair, lingered on the curve of her bottom. "I have never experienced anything like this," he said softly, attempting to find the words to fight her panic.

She swallowed hard, listened to the frantic pounding of her heart. "How would you know, silly?" she teased back, trying desperately to appear normal. "You can't remember your past." The pounding of her blood was a roar in her ears. Nothing would ever be the same again. She felt weak. Maybe Jacques had taken more blood than she had exchanged. It was affecting her mind, slowing her thoughts. Unless it was fear paralyzing her ability to think. That had never happened to her before. Her intellect had always dominated. But now her emotions had pushed aside all good sense, and she literally felt lost.

Very cautiously, she eased her body away from his, felt the loss as if it were some terrible sorrow. She wanted him for all time. She needed him with her. She might actually love him. Her throat closed, and Shea felt as if she were suffocating. She had let this happen, let him take control of her. She was as foolish as her shadow of a mother had been. Love wasn't supposed to be a part of her carefully controlled world. Neither was need.

"Shea." He said her name softly, gently, even tenderly, as if to a wild animal trapped in a corner.

She sat up abruptly, gasping for air, her eyes growing enormous, wild, her heart thumping loudly. She leapt up, long hair swinging around her slender body like a cape. She ran on bare feet toward the bathroom.

Jacques pulled on a pair of jeans, carelessly buttoned them up the front, and padded after her. His eyes never left her slim, fragile figure. Shea looked as if the smallest thing might shatter her. She was going through human gestures, movements. Brushing her teeth, standing in the shower allowing the water to cascade over her, staring out the window. Jacques held the mind touch lightly so that she wasn't aware of his intrusion. Her fear didn't recede with these human activities. Instead, panic was building to overwhelming proportions. Jacques leaned one hip lazily against the wall, his dark eyes watchful, simply waiting for the inevitable.

"I can't do this, Jacques." Her voice was so low, he barely caught the thread of sound. Shea dressed with shaking hands, donning jeans, cotton-ribbed shirt, hiking boots. She didn't look at him.

Jacques waited silently, feeling her confusion and fear, wanting to comfort her but instinctively holding back. Shea was a strong woman, courageous enough to return to save a demon, a madman who had viciously attacked her. Yet the thought of loving Jacques, of needing or wanting him, terrified her.

"I have to leave this place, go to Ireland. I have a home there." Shea twisted the length of red hair into a thick, haphazard braid. Her gaze was jumping from the window to her computer to the door and back again. Everywhere but at him. "You're safe now, with your family and friends. You don't need me anymore."

He moved then, in the way of his people. Silent, unseen, too fast for the human eye. He was suddenly behind her, his body against hers, his palms resting on the wall on either side of her head, effectively forming a cage. Jacques leaned close so that his male scent invaded her lungs, until he was the very air she breathed. "I will always need you, Shea. You are my heart and soul and my very sanity. It has been many years since I have been to Ireland. A beautiful country."

He felt her inhale sharply, fighting for air, fighting a tight, suffocating feeling. In her mind was a strangled denial of his words. She was desperately searching for a way to dissuade him. Not only was she shaking on the outside, even her insides were trembling. Jacques could literally smell her fear.

Shea's arms crossed her stomach, holding tight against the internal rolling. "Listen to me, Jacques. This…" She waved an unsteady hand, turned so that she leaned against the wall, so that it would hold her up. It was a mistake facing him. His hard, muscular body, his sensual features still ravaged by pain, the intensity of his black eyes. The hunger. Desire. Need. She tilted her chin at him, her sorrow so deep that he wanted to gather her close, but it was necessary for her to feel in control.

Jacques crushed down his natural predatory nature, held himself utterly still, her body imprisoned between his immovable one and the wall.

Shea cleared her throat, tried again. "It can't work. I have obligations. I can't afford a relationship right now. And you're looking for something intense, passionate, forever, some eternal bond. I'm just not like that. I don't have all that much to give anyone." Her fingers twisted together in agitation; he felt his heart twist in answer. The smile deep in his soul at her foolish words never found its way to his face.

Shea had a passionate nature, and her need for him was as great as his need for her. She knew it, and it terrified her. More than anything, that knowledge was what made her determined to run from him. She had taught herself to be a solitary person, had no idea how to share her life. She would never, could never be like her mother.

"Are you listening to me, Jacques?"

He moved closer, crowded her slender body. His arms swept her to him, nearly crushing her. "Of course I am listening. I hear that you are afraid. I feel it." His warm breath caressed her neck. The way he held her was completely protective, gentle, tender. "I am afraid, too. I have no past, Shea. Only a living hell that shaped a madman. Those people you call my family mean nothing to me. I do not trust them. Any one of them could be the betrayer." He laid his head over hers, a soothing gesture of unity. "I cannot always distinguish reality from the madness. There is only you, my love, to keep me sane. If you choose to desert me, I fear for myself and any who dare to come near."

Shea blinked back tears, found his wrist with trembling fingers, the lightest contact, a connection between them. "We make such a perfect pair, Jacques. At least one of us should be stable, don't you think?"

He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. "You came for me, from thousands of miles away. You came for me."

She managed a smile. "A few years late."

Something eased in the vicinity of his heart. He knew there was no escape for either of them. He might not understand fully, but he knew he had bound them irrevocably together for all time. "Is there not a saying, 'Better late than never'?" His thumb feathered over her wrist, found her pulse.

Her mind was calmer now, more accepting of their union. She rested her head in the niche of his sternum. "I feel so terrible that I didn't listen to my dreams. If only…"

His hand covered her mouth, stopping her words. "You saved my sanity. You came for me. That is all that matters. Now we have to find our way together."

She pulled his hand to her neck, held it tight against the satin texture of her skin. "Those men are following me, Jacques. Without me, you have a better chance of escaping. You know that you do."

The beast in him raised its head, fangs dripping triumphantly in anticipation. She could never possibly conceive of his wanting to meet the two humans who had tortured and imprisoned him. She had no concept of his immense power, of his rage, of what kind of dangerous creature he was. She was bound to him, yet she was so compassionate, she could not truly see his nature. She would keep running, avoiding confrontation for all of her life if need be. He preferred to be the aggressor. He would be the aggressor.

"Do not worry about what may happen, little one."

Shea touched his jaw with gentle fingers. "Thank you for watching out for me while I was unaware. You didn't let them put me in the ground."

Again he brought her hand to his mouth. "I knew you would not want such a thing." His dark eyes indicated the far side of the room. He raised his hand, and the door opened at his mental command.

Instantly the wind blew rain into the cabin, a high-pitched moan rising above the scraping branches. Shea shivered, drew closer to the heat and protection of his body. It was wild outside, black fury, the rain driving down in silver sheets. Shea didn't need the flashes of lightning illuminating the forest to see clearly the deep, vivid greens and browns, the drops of rain like thousands of crystals reflecting the beauty of the trees and bushes. She saw with more than the eyes of a human; she saw with the eyes of an animal. She could feel the wildness of the storm in her own body.

Jacques tightened his hold on her as he felt her try to reject such intense and foreign emotions. "No, little one, look at it. This is our world. There is nothing ugly in it. It is clean and honest and beautiful." He murmured the words into her ear, his mouth finding the heat of her skin, his tongue caressing her pulse.

A shiver of excitement, of sensual awareness, rushed through her blood. Everything in her seemed to reach for him. Her body, her heart, her mind. Fear crawled in as she acknowledged her need of him. Her life was different now. She was different. If her father had been like Jacques, his blood had run diluted in her veins. Jacques had somehow brought her fully into his world. She found herself inhaling deeply, drinking in the sights and smells, something wild in her rising to meet the fury of the storm.

"It is ours, Shea. The wind, the rain, the soil beneath our feet."

His words brushed along her skin like a hand in a velvet glove. His teeth scraped seductively along her throat, sent her blood rushing, pooling. "Can we leave tonight? Now?" The wildness in her was growing, spreading. Her need of him was growing just as strong. She wanted to flee the woods, escape from whatever was inside of her and gaining strength with every moment she was here.

"We will have to make plans for shelter," he counseled softly. "Running blindly without thought will get us killed."

Shea closed her eyes tiredly. "There isn't any place for us to run to, is there?" The part of her that sorted data so perfectly told her she was trying to run from herself.

He folded his arms around her, cradling her tenderly. "You could not have existed for much longer in the half-life you were living. And you were never really happy there. You have never been happy, Shea."

"That's not true. I love my work, being a surgeon."

"You were not meant for a solitary life, little red hair."

"A doctor hardly leads a solitary life, Jacques."

"A surgeon does not need to interact with patients, a researcher even less so. I am in your mind, know your thoughts, and this you cannot keep from me."

Her green eyes glinted at him. "Has it occurred to you that I might not like you running around in my head? You're like a loose cannon. Neither one of us knows when you might go off." Amusement was creeping into her voice, and her body began to relax.

Jacques held back his sigh of relief. She was coming back to him, meeting him hallway. "It is the way of our people."

She turned back to stare out the door into the storm. "All the time?"

The information came easily this time, without the curious splintering pain in his head. "No. All Carpathians can communicate on one common path if they desire it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I am not certain if I am able to do this. I cannot exactly remember the path, only that there is one."