Dark Desire (14 page)

Shea remained very quiet, holding herself still, wanting to allow any memory possible to come to Jacques.

I have been here, some time ago. Perhaps a quarter of a century
. His head ached, but the memory shimmered, solidified instead of slipping away. His black eyes moved restlessly over the clearing.
There was a fight here. A vampire, high and powerful from a fresh kill. I had never fought one before; it was my first time. I was not prepared for his strength, his ferocity. Maybe I just could not believe one of my own kind, even turned, would do such evil
. He frowned in concentration, tried to catch more fragments and hold on to them.
I was guarding someone, someone important, someone who could not fall into the hands of the vampire. There are so few
…

The last thought seemed to trail off. Shea merged her mind firmly with his, felt his confusion, his frustration at being unable to capture and pin down the information. Shea put a hand on his forehead, wanting to soothe him. Her touch was tender, her green eyes anxious.

So familiar. Not green, but blue.
A woman. Carpathian women are so few. We must guard them well, protect them. It was a woman I was guarding, and she was special. Our hope for the future
.

Her heart nearly stopped. Jacques had fought for another woman, nearly lost his life, if the scar was any indication.
What woman?
Shea was totally unaware she had used the Carpathian lifemate's method of communication.

Through the pain of his body and his pounding head, joy and male amusement washed over him. His little red-haired doctor did not like the idea of another woman in his life.
She had blue eyes, and there were tears in them, such as you have in yours now
. He touched one glittering drop with a fingertip, brought it to his mouth to taste. His body, always voraciously hungry, absorbed that bead as if absorbing her very essence.

Who was she, Jacques? Or who is she?
A male like Jacques, so handsome, sensual, intense—of course he had to have a woman stashed somewhere. Shea bit her lip so hard, two drops of blood beaded up.

Jacques tried to hold on to the fragments slipping in and out of his head. He sensed that the information was of great importance to both of them.
She belonged to another. He is…
Pain gripped his head in a vise and squeezed hard.

Shea laced her fingers through his. “Let it go, Jacques, we don't need it.” She smoothed the hair from his forehead. “It will come in time. Look how much you've already remembered.” It was shocking to her just how much of a relief it was to learn that the unknown important woman belonged to another.

If it is not some fantasy
. It was half humor, half self-censure. His hand came up, caught the nape of her neck, and pulled her down so that he could kiss her soft, trembling mouth. His tongue swept the ruby droplets from her full lower lip.

“I told you to stay out of my head.” She returned his kiss gently, taking care not to jar him. “Let's go in and make you comfortable.” It seemed harder for her to bear his pain than it was for him.

Another minute. Listen to the song of the night. The wolves call to one another in joy. Do you hear?

She did. How could she not? A distance away the pack lifted their muzzles skyward and poured out their happiness to one another. It was impossible to contain it within their bodies, and it flowed from their hearts, out their throats into the night. It was so beautiful, so pure, so much a part of their world. The notes, each different, unique to the individual animal, floated through the forest, lifted to the very heavens. She belonged here in this land. She belonged with the wolf pack, the mountains, and the night. She turned her head to look at Jacques, found him clutching his head as memories crowded in, jagged bits and pieces that teased and frustrated, that felt like piercing shards of glass.

I should remember him. Someone important. I remember the fight
. His hand went once more to his throat.
The vampire slashed my throat. The woman saved my life. She pretended to be hysterical, but she packed the wound with soil and her saliva as she cried over me. The vampire took her. Why can I not remember the important one?

“Stop it right now!” Shea ordered sharply as she stroked away the crimson stain on his forehead. “I'm taking you back into the house this minute.”

Shea
. Her name was a magic talisman, a soothing balm to his tortured mind.

I'm here with you, Jacques
. She merged with him immediately, held him close physically.
It will all come in time, I promise you
.

His hand brushed her throat, the raw, ragged wounds and bruises that refused to heal. Without proper blood and the rejuvenating sleep of their people, her body could not heal itself.
Look at you, what I have done to you. And I cannot guard you, as I must, as is my duty. I am of little use to you
.

Shea tugged at his hair, a tiny punishment. “I don't
know, Jacques, you're more than adequate at giving orders.” She maneuvered the gurney back into the cabin, then took the opportunity to put fresh sheets on the bed before helping Jacques onto it. “You know I have to go,” she said softly.

Jacques lay very still, staying on top of the pain, drifting with it, grateful for the comfortable bed and her soothing touch. He loved the feel of her fingers caressing his hair, his forehead, stroking away his pain.
I cannot allow you to go unprotected
. His resolve was fading. She could tell he didn't like the idea, but he knew it was necessary.

“I'll be leaving you unprotected as well. But we can do this. It isn't as if either of us will really be alone. Does distance matter? Our bond is so strong, can't we use it across a few miles? After all, you called me from thousands of miles away.”

His black gaze reflected pain, but he was becoming more resigned to the trip.
It is true, we can touch one another at will, but it consumes my energy. Over a distance it may be difficult
.

“Only because I always let you do the work.” Shea checked the loads in the shotgun and rifle and laid two boxes of cartridges beside the weapons, near his hand. “I'm getting good at this mind-reading thing. My mother was supposed to be psychic, and supposedly I inherited her gift. Who knows, maybe it's true.”

Our bond is growing stronger with each blood exchange, with each passing moment we are together.

“So if we were apart I might stop wanting to be around you?” she teased. “If I had known it was that simple, I would have sat outside most of the time.”

He caressed her silky hair.
I will allow you to do this thing, but do not
—he broke off the thought abruptly.

But not before Shea caught the echo of the primitive, territorial male. Her eyebrows shot up. Sometimes he re
minded her more of a wild animal than a man. “Less of this
allow
stuff. It offends my independent nature.”

She was smiling again, gently teasing him, and Jacques felt surrounded by her light. It seemed to shine through her vivid green eyes and lead him away from the yawning emptiness. She was making perfect sense, and in this moment of lucidity, he could do no other than acquiesce. Still, how was he going to be without her even for a short time? How would he survive as each minute, each second crawled by? Jacques closed his eyes, a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin at the thought of the darkness he would endure. The agony. The isolation.

“Jacques, don't. You said you could shut down your heart and lungs. If you do that, do you feel or think? Dream?”
Have nightmares?

No, but I dare not sleep in the way of our people. When you are separated from me or you choose the sleep of mortals, I must remain alert
.

“I'll be fine. Put yourself to sleep and escape for just a little while. I'll take off and get as far as I can tonight.”

You must not allow anything to happen to you, Shea. You cannot comprehend how important it is that you come to no harm. I cannot be without you. You brought me back into this life. I know my mind is not right. You cannot desert me when I need you the most. I would not be able to find my way back from the madness of the beast.

“I have no intention of deserting you, Jacques,” she assured him.

Do not forget that you must merge with me this time
. There was a trace of fear in his voice.

“I will check in often, Jacques. And you tell me if anything goes wrong on your end. Understand? No more of this chest-beating macho stuff.”

Dawn was streaking the sky by the time Shea managed to make the trip over the rough terrain to the nearest village. She needed fuel, herbs, sutures, various supplies, and, most of all, blood. Whole blood. She had always had to fight off fatigue during the daytime, but now it was more than simple fatigue; she was exhausted. She was terrified of being caught alone in her camper in such a weak state. She knew it would be virtually impossible to protect herself. More than anything else, she feared that something might attack Jacques while she was away.

Shea parked her truck at the village petrol station and slipped from the cab. Almost immediately she was uneasy, not certain why. Few villagers were out and about at such an early hour. She leaned casually against the truck, taking a long look around. She could detect no one, but she felt eyes on her, someone or something watching her. The feeling was strong. Lifting her chin, she forced herself to ignore her overactive imagination while she filled the truck, its reserve tank, and the two tanks for her generator.

The feeling of being watched became so strong, it made
her skin crawl. Without warning something pushed at her mind. Not Jacques. It wasn't his familiar touch. Fear slammed into her, but she kept her cool, professional mask, her single-minded purpose to finish her tasks as quickly as possible. Whatever it was retreated, unable to penetrate.

Shea drove down the nearly deserted street and parked close to the small medical clinic. This time, as she slid from the seat, she searched the shadows around her carefully, using every sense she could. Sight. Smell. Hearing. Instinct. There was someone, something. It had followed her, was near. She could feel it, but she couldn't find it.

Jacques?
She touched his mind gently, suddenly afraid she was feeling something that was happening to him.

I am awaiting your return
. She sensed his tiredness. The morning light was even harder on him than on her. She hated being away from him.

I will come soon
. Shea took another deep breath and looked around, determined to find what was making her so uneasy. A man lounged lazily in the shade of a tree. He was tall, dark, and motionless, like a hunter. She felt the impact of his eyes as his gaze casually found her.

Her heart jumped. Who was he? Had Wallace found her so soon? Shea turned away. First, before anything, she had to complete her business. She dragged out her laptop computer and typed in the commands to access the clinic's blood bank. If she had to move Jacques, they would need supplies desperately.

In another moment, Shea felt silly. The door to the small general store across the street swung open. The short, stooped owner emerged, apron tied around his ample middle, a broom in his hand. He waved openly at the motionless figure beneath the tree. “Byron. Good morning to you. Bit early, isn't it?” She recognized the local dialect.

The tall, dark-haired man replied in the same language, but his voice was low, a beautiful tone. He stepped out of
the shadows, young, good-looking. He flashed a quick, friendly smile at the grocer approaching him. Clearly they knew one another, were friendly. The dark-haired man was obviously no stranger to the area. Neither exhibited the least interest in Shea. She watched as Byron bent his head solicitously down to the older man, listening intently, his arm circling the shopkeeper's shoulders.

Shea breathed a soft sigh of relief. The feeling of being stalked was gone, and she couldn't be certain if it had been real or imagined. She watched for a moment as the two men moved deeper into the shade, until they were merely a dark shadow blending with the trees. Laughter floated back toward her. The taller, younger man bent his head even closer to the shopkeeper to hear every word. Hurrying into the store, she purchased from the shopkeeper's assistant an extra blanket and pillow, several blocks of ice, and some clothing for Jacques.

The small hospital was ready with her medical supplies, a friendly clerk asking about her mobile clinic, treating her like a valued client. Feeling slightly guilty, she completed her transactions quickly. She needed to get to her truck and find a dark area to sleep in until it was safe to return to Jacques. She rushed outside.

Light pierced her eyes like a thousand needles. Shea stumbled, then felt a strong hand close like a vise around her upper arm, preventing her from falling. Murmuring a thank you, she fumbled in her pocket for her dark glasses to cover her streaming eyes.

“What are you doing here alone, unprotected?” The voice was pitched low, the dialect and accent eerily similar to Jacques'.

Shea's breath caught in her throat, and she struggled for release. The tall, dark-haired man merely pushed her into the shadows, her back to the wall of the building, his large
frame easily blocking hers. “Who are you?” he asked. “You are small and fair for one of us.” His hand caught her chin so that she met the penetration of his sunglass-shaded eyes. “Your scent is familiar to me but elusive. How is it I did not know of your existence?” For just a moment satisfaction curved his mouth. “You are free. That is good.”

“I don't know you, sir, and you're scaring me. I'm in a great hurry, so please let me go.” Shea used her coolest, most disdainful voice, and she deliberately spoke English. The man was enormously strong, and it terrified her.

“I am Byron.” He gave only his first name, as if that should be enough. “I am a male of our race, you a single female. The sun is climbing, and you did not give yourself enough time to seek refuge from the dawn. I can do no other than help you, offer my protection.” He switched easily to heavily accented English.

His voice seemed to slide right inside her. He gave the illusion of being a gentleman, so friendly, yet he had not released her or moved even an inch to allow her to get by him. He inhaled, dragged her scent into his lungs. Suddenly his entire demeanor changed. His body stiffened. His fingers dug into her arm. White teeth gleamed a predator's flash of warning. “Why did you not answer me when I spoke to you?” His words were low and menacing. The suave stranger was frightening.

“Let go of me.” She kept her voice even, her mind working at top speed, looking for a way out. He seemed to hold all the cards, but…

“Tell me who you are,” he demanded.

“Let go of me now.” She lowered her voice, pitched it to a soft, hypnotic melody. “You want to let me go.”

The stranger shook his head, his eyes narrowing, recognizing the hint of compulsion in her voice. He inhaled a second time, drinking in her fragrance. At once his face
seemed to go still. “I recognize that scent. Jacques. He is dead these seven years, yet his blood runs in your veins.” His voice crawled with deadly threat.

For a moment she was frozen with fear. Was this the betrayer Jacques had spoken of? Shea swung her head sideways to remove his fingers from her chin. “I have no idea what you're talking about. Let go of me now!”

Byron let out his breath in a low, venomous hiss. “If you wish to see another night, you will tell me what you have done with him.”

“You're hurting me.” He was drawing closer, leaning toward her neck, bending her backward like a bow as she tried to elude him. His breath was hot on her throat, and Shea gasped as she felt needle-sharp teeth pierce her skin. With a low cry she jerked sideways, her heart pounding.

Without warning he caught at the neckline of her shirt to examine the bruises at her throat. She could feel his puzzlement, his confusion. Shea took advantage of his momentary distraction. As hard as she was able, she brought up her knee and screamed for all she was worth. Byron looked so shocked, she nearly laughed. He had been absolutely certain she wouldn't want attention drawn to her. His hiss, a deadly promise of retaliation, was the last thing she heard before he melted away.

And he literally melted away. Shea never saw him move. One moment he was there, his body trapping hers against the wall, and then he was gone. A fine mist was mixing with the layers of fog covering the ground to about knee level.

Two orderlies came running, hearing her screams. Shea, holding her palm to the trickling wound on her neck to cover it, allowed them to soothe her, to assure her the animal she thought she saw lurking in the shadows was most likely a stray dog, not a wolf. They went off shaking their heads and laughing at how silly women could be.

Shea loaded the supplies into her truck, taking as much
time as she dared. If the sun affected her, it had to be just as lethal to her assailant if he was like Jacques. It had never occurred to her that she might have to contend with a vampire. Don Wallace had been her nightmare; she suspected this was much worse. She packed the blood carefully in the center of her large cooler, surrounded by the blocks of ice. She had to find a way to get the blood to Jacques without leaving a trail for the vampire.

She waited, stalling now before she left. The sun climbed higher, touched her skin right through the thin cotton of her clothing. A wide-brimmed hat and her dark glasses provided relief. Still, Shea sensed it was safer to stay among people as long as she could; until her weakness left her she had no alternative but to seek rest in her darkened camper in the shade of the woods.

There was a push at her mind, a familiar path she recognized instantly with relief. Shea merged with Jacques. He was weak, what little strength he had leeched away with the rising of the sun. Shea was angry with herself for not making the effort earlier to reassure him. She should have known that he would feel her fear even from a distance.

You are well?

Yes, Jacques. I'm sorry I didn't check in
. She made an effort to stay calm and hide her alarm from him. The last thing she wanted was for the wild man to attempt to rescue her. And she knew he would. He would kill himself trying to get to her side.

You are in the sun. I feel your discomfort
. It was a reprimand of the sort she was becoming used to. The arrogance of command was creeping more and more into his voice as his health improved.

Behind the dark glasses her eyes were streaming constantly. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and took the plunge.
There was one of your kind here. At least I think he was your kind.

His reaction was explosive. Hot fury, fear for her, an almost uncontrollable jealous rage. Jacques forced himself to remain silent and hear her out. He knew his volcanic, intense emotions frightened her. They frightened him. Emotions were unfamiliar to him and could be overwhelming at times.

He recognized your scent, even called you by name. He demanded to know where you are. Please be careful, Jacques. I'm afraid I left you completely helpless. I think he'll search for you.

Did he touch you? Take your blood?
The demand was imperious; she felt his black rage beating in her head.

She touched her hand to the oozing wound on her neck.
You would have known
, she replied soothingly.

Some of his helpless fury dissipated.
Where are you?

I am safe for now, but he'll hunt me this evening, I'm certain of it. I don't want to lead him back to you.

You will return this night to me. Straight to me. He cannot be allowed to touch you, cannot exchange blood.

I'll be fine. It is you who must be careful, Jacques
. She tried to reassure him.
I'm afraid for you, afraid I will lead him to you, or while I'm gone he will find you.

You do not understand the danger you are in. You must get to me
.

Shea might not fully comprehend, but she could feel his conviction, his fear for her, and she shivered, remembering the strength in the stranger's grasp, his hiss of deadly promise.
Don't worry, I'll come right away. Go to sleep now, Jacques. This is draining for you.

Shea
. There was a moment of silence, of longing.
Come back to me. If you believe nothing else I have told you, believe I need you.

I promise
. Shea put her forehead down on the steering wheel. She was so tired, and her eyes were swelling. The tinted windows in the cab helped to prevent blisters on her
skin but wouldn't for much longer. Her body was slow and clumsy, nearly unresponsive. She could no longer afford to wait, could only hope the vampire was already in his lair and unable to see where she went.

She drove into the mountains. At first, to save time, she took the road, driving as fast as she dared on the winding dirt track. When the sunlight became unbearable, she made her own road, following a deer trail, always climbing, seeking deep forest. The heavy canopy of trees gave some relief from the unrelenting sunlight piercing her skull. When her body was simply too heavy, she pulled into a particularly heavily wooded area and dragged herself into the camper. She had just enough energy to lock the door and place the pistol beside her hand before her body became lead. She lay as if paralyzed, her heart beating fast, terrified by her own weakness.

She needed Jacques, needed to touch that core of unbelievable power in him. She needed to touch his iron will. Shea pictured him in her mind, found it slowed her heartbeat. If she could just hold him, feel his arms around her. And then somehow, incredibly, she could feel his arms, all corded strength, closing protectively around her, hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, matching the rhythm of hers. Shea brushed his face with her fingertips, her eyes closed, her mind on every detail of his sensual features. They slept apart yet together, the uncomfortable sleep of mortals, always aware of the danger surrounding them, always aware of the leaden paralysis of their bodies. Shea, for the first time, experienced the power of holding a mind merge, of never being alone, the strength that came from two beings connected.

The long day passed slowly, the sun moving across the sky, shining brightly, hotly, then retreating just as slowly toward the mountains, sinking gracefully and colorfully into the sea.