Dark Desire (19 page)

“You are safe with me, little Shea.” Jacques used his voice, a blend of heat and velvet. He was willing to utilize every weapon in his arsenal of centuries of experience to bind her to him. “I need you.” His body moved restlessly, aggressively, his mouth finding the hollow of her throat while his hand slid down her narrow ribcage, fingers splayed possessively across her flat stomach. “I know you are afraid. I feel it in my mind. Let yourself feel what I am feeling. There is no doubt, no other love for me. I know you are my other half. Give yourself into my keeping.” His beautiful husky voice rasped softly, slightly hoarse as the fire began to spread. Flames were leaping, hunger rising, and the beast inside was fighting for freedom. Dark purpose began to swirl as Carpathian instincts fought with the man.

The effort to control the wild cravings, the need for dominance, a frenzied, heated mating, his stamp of possession, was riding him hard. He found her mouth a little desperately, pushed further into her mind, not waiting for complete acceptance, afraid it might never come. Her mind was
a mixture of tears and sorrow and smoke and flame and burning desire.

Jacques
. His name was a whisper echoing in his head. Her hands were on his, stopping him from pushing the jeans from her hips.

He deepened the kiss, possessive, erotic, deliberately sharing the urgent hunger, the burning desires in his own mind.
You gave me back my life, Shea. Give me my soul. I need you, only you. Make me complete again
. The tension went out of her hands enough that he could slide the jeans from the curve of her hips, down her legs, exposing the beauty of her body to him, to his exploring hands.

Shea heard Jacques' swift indrawn breath, felt his heart jump, his body savage with need, his mind a red haze of burning hunger. The intensity of his emotion was overwhelming to her, threatening to her. She closed her eyes, her arms creeping around his neck, knowing she could not find the strength to refuse such a terrible need in him. Anyone else, but never him.

He inhaled deeply, breathing her scent into his lungs, his hands moving slowly over her body, taking his time with her, fighting off the beast raging to possess her. He had already hurt her too much, taken from her parts of her life he could never give back. He wanted her first time with him to be beautiful, to be as right as he could make it.

“Don't cry, love,” he whispered softly into her throat, his mouth resting over her pulse, his tongue stroking the frantic rhythm. His body clenched; pain and hunger rose until it beat at him, at her. His teeth scraped her neck, a sweet torment for both of them. He nuzzled her breasts, marveling at how soft she was, how perfect. Her bones felt small beneath his seeking hands, yet her muscles were firm and her skin like satin.

He was trembling now, a shudder of effort to hold back his wild nature, a fine sheen of sweat bathing his body. Sen
sations and textures danced with swirling colors and heat. After centuries of no emotion, no feeling, after seven years of damnation and pain, Jacques would never forget the feel of this moment. The way she looked, smelled, and felt to his touch, the reluctant love, the sorrow, the matching hunger and desire in her mind was forever etched into his soul.

Shea felt the change in him, in the way his hands caressed her thighs, the absolute conviction in his mind. She felt his fierce hunger, the burning in his body, his urgent need. His body blanketed hers, imprisoned her, his knee effectively parting her legs. Her body clenched hotly as he pressed against her, hard and insistent. Her heart jolted in sudden rebellion, but his mouth was on her breast, driving out sane thoughts. With every hot pull of his mouth, moist heat throbbed and beckoned him deeper until he met innocent resistance.

His mouth reluctantly released her breast, found her pulse, where his tongue swirled erotically. “You are my lifemate.” His teeth scraped her soft, creamy flesh. Liquid heat bathed him invitingly. “I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you.” His hands found her small hips, cupped her in his palms. His body was a relentless, savage ache of burning hunger. “I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be placed above my own for all time.”

“Stop it, Jacques,” Shea whispered desperately, feeling every word, every breath weaving them so tightly together that she couldn't tell where he left off and she began.

“You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.” His teeth sank deep; his body surged into hers. White-hot pain exploded over both of them, leaving shimmering flames leaping high and hot.

Shea's cry was lost in her throat. She wrapped her arms around his head and cradled him to her. Welded together,
body, mind, and heart, her life flowing into him, his body took command of hers. He moved—a slow, careful test of her response to him. She was hot and tight, the friction threatening to engulf him in the frenzied, uninhibited sexual mating of a Carpathian male. With effort he controlled himself, savoring the sweet, hot spice of her blood, the velvet fire gripping his body.

He moved gently, tenderly, a long, sure stroke designed to coax her, to calm him. Her muscles clenched around him, and he surged forward, buried himself deep in her very core, his mouth drawing the essence of her life into his keeping. The world narrowed, receded, until she was his breath, his heart, the blood flowing in his veins. There was no darkness, no shadows, only Shea's body with its heat and flowing colors and leaping flames.

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.”