Dark Desire (34 page)

Shea tossed her mane of red hair so that it flew in all directions. “Any woman in her right mind would stare at
your particular backside, so you don't need to add that to your arrogant list of virtues. And stay out of my mind unless you're invited.” She was staring, but she couldn't help it. He was so beautifully masculine.

Jacques reached behind him and captured her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I find the most interesting things in your mind, my love. Things you do not have any intention of telling me.”

Shea could hear a sound now. Not the drip of water seeping from the earth into the tunnel, but a dull roar that began to boom louder with every step they took. She looked carefully around her, afraid the roof of the cave might come crashing down. Jacques tugged on her hand, urging her forward.

Around the next bend he ducked into a small entrance, and Shea reluctantly followed him. The moment she straightened again, the sight nearly took her breath away. The room was huge, with rock crystals lining the walls, sparkling in the steamy chamber. Pools tiered one another, separated only by symmetrical rock walls. Steam rose from the various pools, giving the chamber an ethereal appearance. A long, steady fall of frothy water tumbled down the far wall into the deepest pool. Large boulders and long, flat rocks divided the pools, forming natural berths for sitting or lying down.

Shea stared at the underground paradise in awe. “This is so beautiful. How come no one knows about it?”

Jacques laughed softly. “You mean humans?” He turned to her, cupped the back of her neck, and bent to take possession of her mouth because he had to do it. She was far too tempting with her disheveled clothes, wild hair, and look of bemusement.

Shea's body instantly went pliant and soft, melding with his harder, more muscular frame. Her mouth was hot and inviting, her breasts pressing into his bare stomach. Jacques
lifted his head, his thumb trailing over her lip, her throat, to the tip of her right breast. “These caves are deep and go on for miles. It is easy to get lost and simply disappear. Few humans come near this place. It has a reputation of being dangerous.” His hand caressed her soft skin. “Take off your jeans.”

She smiled up at him. “I can see it is dangerous. Now, why would I want to do something that is obviously going to get me in big trouble?”

His hand stroked her waist, traced each rib under her satin skin. He could feel her tremble in answer. “Because I want you to. Because you want to please me.”

Shea laughed out loud, her eyebrows winging upward. “Oh, really? That's what I want to do?”

He nodded solemnly. “Above all else.”

She moved away from him, deliberately enticing him. “I see. I didn't know that. Thank you for pointing it out.”

“You are welcome,” he countered gravely, his eyes following her every movement. Shea was graceful and seductive, a siren beckoning him to follow. His body stirred, and ruefully he decided the pools might be a safer place to watch her. He entered the nearest hot springs, wincing as the bubbles added to the sensation of fingers stroking his sensitive skin.

Her taunting laughter followed him, brushing provocatively at his nerve endings with the very tip of a flame. Shea felt an unexpected rush of power. Jacques was such an invincible being, yet she could see his body trembling, hear his heart beating even over the roar of the falls. All for her. Deliberately she slid her jeans low, exposing her slender body, the fiery red triangle beckoning him, teasing him. Her shirt floated to the ground, and she lifted her arms skyward, a seductress tempting the heavens.

Jacques' body tightened in anticipation. His black gaze didn't miss one graceful sway, not one rhythmic movement
of her shapely form. Shea waded into the pool slowly, allowed the bubbling water to lap at her body like a sensuous tongue. She moved out into the middle of the water and finally slipped under the surface like a sleek, gleaming otter. Jacques sat on the edge of a rock, his legs under the water, bubbles lapping around his hips. He watched her swim toward him, away, her body flashing in the water, breaking the surface, disappearing once again.

Shea's head emerged, her green eyes enormous as they moved over his body. He was utterly still, as if carved from the very stone itself. His muscles were etched and defined, and his body was ready and aggressive. A small smile touched the corners of her mouth. She swam toward him slowly. “So you think I want to please you.”

“Definitely.” The word came out a low growl. He was finding it hard to breathe.

She smiled at him, a sexy, provocative, very feminine promise. “You're right, I do want to please you. But how do I know you haven't done your hypnotic thing on me, and it's all your idea, not mine?”

He had to reach for his voice, and when he found it, it was gravel. “I would not mind hypnotizing you to do my bidding, but somehow I think you can please me without such help.” He was finding it difficult to think straight, his mind a cloud of erotic desire. Water lapped at his hips as she moved closer.

Her breasts brushed his legs, sending ripples of fire through his bloodstream. She pushed against his knees so that he was forced to open them to accommodate her. Her chin nudged his lap. “I have to think of the best way I might please you. You have all sorts of interesting ideas running around in your head. I need to find the best one, don't you think?” Her breath was warm silk, breathing more life into his rigid body. Her tongue caught a drop of water, savored it.

Jacques groaned at the pleasure shooting through him. His legs circled her naked body, drawing her close so that her soft mouth was level with the throbbing velvet tip thrusting toward her. Deliberately he inched his body forward. Bubbles frothed and burst around him; her hair washed over his legs, tangled around him, weaving them closer together. He found he was holding his breath, no longer able to get air.

The touch of her mouth was like hot silk. Jacques' mind seemed to dissolve, his body trembled, and his heart exploded in his chest. He felt as if his very insides were coming apart. His body was no longer his own, no longer under his control. Shea was playing him like a musical instrument, all throbbing notes and building passion. He could only watch her helplessly, ensnared in her web of beauty and love.

He caught her head in his hands, bunching wet hair in his fists. No one, nothing, in all the long centuries had prepared him for the intensity of emotion she brought out in him. He knew what it meant to know he would gladly die for someone.

Jacques' thumb raised her chin so that her green eyes met his black gaze, so that she could easily see into his soul. For all his faults, for all his clumsy handling of their relationship, she had to see what he really felt inside. He lifted her easily into his arms, holding her close, holding her with exquisite tenderness, cradling her with leashed strength, wanting her to be sheltered for all time within his heart.

His mouth moved over her satin skin collecting little beads of water. “Love me back, Shea, love me like this. You are the air I breathe. Do not be afraid of this.” His hands shaped her slender form to the hardness of his, caressed every line of her body, found every secret shadow and hollow.

As he lifted her closer, water poured from her body onto
his, hot and steamy. Her mouth was at his throat—small, loving kisses designed to drive him wild. He was gentle and tender this time, taking his time, enjoying his ability to touch her, to take her whenever they wanted, however they wanted. Water splashed up all around them; bubbles frothed and burst. Steam enveloped them, wrapping their bodies like a blanket.

Jacques stroked back her bright hair, kissed her eyelids, her high cheekbones, the corners of her mouth. Every inch of her was his, and he worshipped it tenderly. When at last his body took possession of hers, her eyes held the same message as his, her soul branded forever with his name, his touch.

Jacques stirred languidly. He didn't want to move, but hunger was growing, and he needed nourishment desperately. He had to sustain Shea, Byron, and his own healing body. He would have to feed often to keep up with the demand. He carefully unwound his body from Shea's. She moaned softly, and her long eyelashes lifted.

“You can't possibly want more.” He had made love to her often and thoroughly throughout the last few hours. She wasn't altogether certain she could move.

He ran a teasing finger down her flat stomach. “I always want more.
Insatiable
is the word.” He sighed and reluctantly stood and stretched. “I want you to stay here while I go feed. You will be safe.”

One eyebrow lifted. “How do you know that? Don't all Carpathians know of this place? I should go with you.” She wanted to keep him safe from any harm. If Rand was the vampire, he hated Jacques above all others.

Jacques made certain no expression showed on his face. Shea had the illusion she was still taking care of him. Her protective streak sent unexpected warmth flowing through
him. He loved that in her. He wasn't stupid enough to give away his knowledge that she wouldn't harm a fly. “If you made the effort to learn how to scan, you would know if any Carpathians were in the vicinity. Because we are here, no others would invade our privacy,” he said gruffly.

“The vampire can cloak himself, or have you forgotten?” she asked suspiciously. “I think it is more likely that you are going out hunting.”

Jacques ruffled her hair gently. “I am going to feed, little red hair. It is not my job to hunt the vampire. Gregori has been chosen for that. I do not envy him the job. As for the vampire bothering you, I can find no trace of him when I scan, and you display no uneasiness. Stay here and wait for me. I already know where I can find food. It will take only minutes.”

Shea glared up at him. “You had better not be deceiving me.”

“It is impossible for lifemates to lie to one another.” He stretched again and bent to kiss her upturned face. “Do not wander off, Shea. And stay in touch with me. I do not want any nasty surprises when I return. In any case, if you stay in touch with me, you will see that I am telling the truth. I go only to feed.”

She stretched out beside the hot springs and dangled her fingers idly in the water. Her body was pleasantly sore. The truth was, she didn't want to move. “All right, wild man, but it isn't me who's constantly finding trouble. And if you run into Rand, just leave.” She turned over, completely oblivious of offering up her body to him. “He may be my biological father, and like any child I may have had my fairy-tale fantasies about the perfect daddy, but I don't want you to take any chances. I've been thinking a lot about this.”

“About what?” he encouraged, wanting her to sort it out for herself.

“The reason I can feel the vampire even though he can cloak himself. The reason I felt the humans when Raven couldn't.”

“We should have been able to detect them,” Jacques said, inviting her to tell him more. He hunkered down beside her. Shea had an exceptional brain, and, given sufficient time, he knew she would be able to put her emotions aside and contribute much to the solution to their problems.

“Blood. Isn't that how everything works? All the bonds and mental telepathy? Don't you track each other through blood exchanges? Isn't that why the men rarely exchange blood? Rand hasn't exchanged with any of you, has he?”

Jacques shook his head. “No, he was very careful never to do such a thing. But then, he had a lifemate. He did not need to share; and there was no chance of his turning.”

“But Noelle wasn't really his lifemate, was she? He always knew it, even if no one else did. Later, perhaps, you all realized he couldn't be her true lifemate, but he had already established a habit of never exchanging blood. He knew there was always the chance he might turn, so he protected himself.” Shea felt she was redeeming her mother. “Maggie was his lifemate. Mikhail told us Rand had risen only a couple of years ago and kept to himself. That was after the vampire murders had taken place.”

“If that is so, then Rand could not possibly be the guilty one.”

“If it is so. Suppose he had risen before that time and found my mother dead. You said a widowed lifemate normally chooses death. What happens if they don't? What happens if they keep existing?”

There was silence as Jacques digested what she was saying. “Mikhail thought Rand would be all right because Noelle was not his true lifemate. But if Maggie had been, and she was already dead when he rose, then he would turn. Yet he had his son. He may have stayed to protect
him.” He inhaled sharply. “But to be able to weave a cloaking spell…There are only a few with that kind of power.”

“Like?” Shea prompted.

“Mikhail is the oldest living Carpathian. Gregori is only a quarter of a century younger. Aidan and his twin brother, Julian, are perhaps half a century younger. Byron and I are the next oldest. A couple of others are close in age, but they have lifemates and are not suspect. There is Dimitri, but he is far from this land. Only an ancient is powerful enough to cloak his presence.” Jacques didn't realize how much he was remembering, but Shea did, and it made the sorrow of Rand's betrayals easier to bear.

“But Rand could have found a way to do it,” Shea insisted. “It makes sense, Jacques. I don't have to like it—in fact, I hate it—but I share his blood, and there isn't another explanation. I sensed his presence in the forest because we share the same strain of blood. It has to be that.”

“You were so opposed to the idea before, Shea.” Jacques' hand spanned her flat stomach. He couldn't help himself, he had to touch her, reveled in his right to do so.

“I didn't want to face it, Jacques. But I've had some time to think about this. It's the only rational explanation. He wants me to be, and he's hoping to keep me for himself, but he knows I'm not really Maggie. And he has to kill you. He wanted you dead and he wanted Raven dead and most likely Mikhail also.” Shea took a deep breath. “And Rand said something that bothered me, but I couldn't remember what. I just put it together. He mentioned Byron. He shouldn't have known that Byron was the one the humans had tortured. No one had told him, and Byron couldn't communicate with him. So how did he know?”

Jacques' black eyes glinted like obsidian. “I did not catch that. You are right. He did know of Byron. He named him.”

Shea shoved a suddenly shaking hand through her hair. Her eyes held endless sorrow as she looked up at him.
“God, Jacques, do you know what that means? He must have been responsible for bringing my brother to Don Wallace and Jeff Smith. He was responsible for their torturing and killing his own son. Is that possible? Could someone really be that insane, that cold-blooded?”

“I am sorry, Shea. A vampire is not capable of any real feeling. The undead has chosen to give up his soul. He is wholly evil.” Jacques could feel an unfamiliar lump blocking his throat. He could feel the heaviness in her heart. He admired the courage it took for her to voice her conclusions to him. “The reason the humans have such legends from the old times is because a few have experienced what a real vampire is capable of. I wish it was different. I would give anything to spare you this heartache.”

“I wish things were different, too, but I don't think they are. And I think you're in real danger. Even if Rand isn't the vampire, he's definitely a sick, bitter man, and he hates you. Please be careful. I don't want him to hurt you.” Her large green eyes were alive with anxiety. She sat up, her arms circling his neck. “I want to put you on a shelf somewhere where no one can ever hurt you again.”

Jacques hastily broke the connection of their minds. Shea persisted in thinking him at risk. It simply did not occur to her, even after what she had experienced with him, what she had witnessed, that he could be the aggressor in the upcoming battle. That he might welcome the battle with his betrayer. That he would enjoy it. For all her knowledge of him, she still could not take in that he was a predator by nature. If that was what it took for her to accept their relationship, he was willing for the knowledge to come to her in slow stages.

To Jacques, that was the beauty of a lifemate's bond. Everything was there for the taking, but it was up to the partner to do what they wanted with it all. Jacques knew he would fly to the moon and haul it down for her, walk
on water or swim through hot lava if that was what it took to make her happy. Shea was his life, and they had centuries to get to know one another properly. She did not need to confront his killer instincts with her every waking breath.

His palm cupped her face, moved lovingly to her slender neck, his thumb feathering over her soft skin. He ached with love for her. “I promise to be careful.”

“Really careful,” she insisted.

He found the hard edges of his mouth turning up. “Really
really
careful,” he clarified.

Her fingertip traced his smile. “I'm sorry I was so crazy about the healer giving me blood, but I really can't stand it yet, even thinking about it. When we're together, it seems different, something beautiful and natural, but the thought of anyone else—” Her stomach lurched, and she broke off.

Jacques' mouth skimmed her face, settled on her lips for a brief, disturbing moment. “I understand. I am stronger now, little red hair. I can care for you properly.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she frowned. “That isn't exactly what I meant. Don't go all macho on me. That would make me sicker than finding some cute human male to feed off.”

She was teasing him. Intellectually he knew it, but for a moment a red haze of jealousy clouded his mind. Rage welled up, and he forced it under control. He knew immediately that he was lucky she didn't want to take sustenance from another man. Something in his fragmented mind, or perhaps it was his possessive nature, would not stand for it. No man, human or Carpathian, was going to be completely safe until he learned to control his fear of losing her. Jacques raked a hand through his hair. “I have a long way to go before I will be normal again.”

She burst out laughing. “No one has said you ever were normal, Jacques.”

He felt the flood of warmth at her teasing and basked in it. “Stay here, little red hair. Stay safe for me.”

She lay back, lazily reclining on the flat rock. Her bright red hair spread out around her like strands of silk. The clean lines of her nude body, her full breasts and tight, fiery curls beckoned to him. Jacques backed away from her. He was going to have to learn a lot about self-control over the next few hundred years. He turned abruptly and walked away.

Once through the small passageway leading back to the tunnel, he shape-shifted as he hurried through the maze of pathways. His body compressed, smaller, even smaller, until he was the very creature Shea was terrified of. Small wings took him gliding quickly through the network of tunnels, upward to the shortcut. It was a tiny chimney cut by centuries of water constantly trickling through solid rock. He charged up it and out into the night sky. Almost instantly his body reshaped itself in flight, taking on the larger, more powerful, and much more formidable shape of an owl. Razor-sharp talons and hooked beak, thick feathers and eyes that easily pierced the night, served him well. He winged his way over the forest canopy toward the cabin housing the three hunters.

Jacques had deliberately ordered their compliance. They would stay the night, unable to figure out why it was so important but unable to defy his hypnotic suggestion. He had taken their blood, directed their minds, and could call them to him at will. The hunters had not intended to stay, as the land was inhospitable to them and they were beginning to believe the superstitions of the locals. He knew the memories he had implanted would remain for as long as he wanted and that they would always answer his bidding if he so desired.

The beauty of the night, seen through the owl's eyes, was incredible. Far below, on the forest floor, small animals scurried for cover. The green canopy blanketing the trees
swayed and danced in the wind, a beautiful ballet. The breeze caught at feathers, lifted them and rushed at him with a feeling of sheer joy and power. He spotted the cabin below and swooped down toward it.

Almost immediately he realized something had to be wrong. No smoke came from the chimney, and on a night like this the three hunters would need warmth. The owl banked sharply and glided in, talons extended. He landed as a man, on his feet, his senses alert to any impending dangers, flaring out to scan the area. He caught no signs of life, but he smelled death. The stench was in his nostrils, along with the pungent scent of terror. Someone had died violently, and had known it was coming. Jacques moved carefully, cloaking himself against the sight of humans. He detected none in the immediate area—but then, he hadn't found Smith or Wallace either. He could find no threat, yet he continued to move warily toward the darkened cabin.

He found the first body beside the porch. The man was mangled, his throat torn, the wound gaping and brutal, as though a huge animal had attacked and killed him. He was drained of blood. Jacques stood beside the hunter's body for a moment, angry with himself for exposing the human to danger needlessly. Of course Rand would know he would need to feed often; he would look for Jacques' source and cut it off.

Jacques remained very still while he took stock of his surroundings. The kill was fresh, minutes old, the body still warm. The vampire was somewhere in the immediate vicinity, waiting for him. Jacques had no doubt he was next on the vampire's list. Jacques could not detect any evidence of him, yet he knew with a certainty he was being stalked. He inhaled sharply and allowed the demon inside to awaken with an ugly roar. Jacques could feel the faint stirring in his mind, the gentle, warm inquiry.
Do not attempt to contact
me, Shea. The vampire is attempting a trap. I cannot be distracted.