Dark Desire (8 page)

He ignored her comment.
Why do you not feed?
The question was asked casually, curiously. His black eyes were thoughtful as he studied her.

From her position of safety across the room, Shea watched him. The weight of his gaze alone broke her concentration, took her breath away. She was feeling far too possessive of this patient. She had no right to tangle her life around his. It was frightening that she was reacting so un-characteristically to him. She had always felt aloof, remote, detached from people and things around her. Her analytical mind simply computed facts. But right now, she could think only of him, his pain and suffering, the way his eyes watched her, half-closed, sexy. Shea nearly jumped out of her skin. Where had that thought come from?

Knowing she wouldn't want to think he was reading her mind at that precise moment, Jacques did the gentlemanly thing and pretended merely a casual interest. It was nice to know she found him sexy. Smugly he lay back with his eyes closed, long lashes dark against his washed-out complexion.

Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, Shea felt as though he witnessed every move she made. “You rest while I shower and change my clothes.” Her hands went to her hair in a futile effort to tidy the wild thickness of it.

His eyes remained closed, his breathing relaxed.
I can feel your hunger, your need for blood nearly as great as my own. Why would you attempt to hide this from me?
With sudden insight he let out his breath.
Or is it that you are hiding from your own needs? That is it—you do not realize it is your hunger, your need.

The gentleness in his tone flooded her body with unexpected heat. Furious that he could be right, she stalked into the bathroom, shrugged off her robe, and allowed the warm shower to cascade over her head.

His laughter was low and taunting.
You think to escape me, little red hair? I live in you as you live in me.

Shea gasped, whirled around, grabbed frantically for a towel. It took a moment to realize he was still in the other room. The connection between them was growing stronger. She wanted it now, enjoyed it, yet it made her uneasy that she could find such an intimacy with another so natural, so normal, when it wasn't.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was showing no indications of normal bodily functions. As always, her intellect took over to analyze the situation. Her brain began to process information without emotion, sorting through the various changes she found in herself, connecting them with her recent illness and the fire in her internal organs. It was crazy, but she knew she was physically different. Something had reshaped her genetic code.

Shea took her time braiding her hair, fussing over her blue jeans, adjusting her ribbed cotton shirt, allowing her mind time to cope with the new knowledge. It was frightening yet fascinating. She wished she had observed it in someone other than herself. It was hard to accept it clinically when it was her own body she was studying.

Such a nice body.

She nearly dropped her brush.
Will you stop!
Just the low velvet touch of his voice sent heat curling through her body. It was sinful and unfair to have such a voice.

I did not think you would ever speak with me as a lifemate would. I waited long for that impatient comment.
There was a teasing note now.

Shea went very still. Her face, reflected in the mirror, visibly whitened. She had not spoken the words aloud, yet he had heard her. Her teeth tugged worriedly at her lower lip. The change was in more than her body. Her capabilities were growing. She could talk to him easily using her mind. It shocked her that she could conceive of such a thing as normal. If she didn't think about it or analyze it, she could almost accept it. She found herself trembling. Extending
her hands out in front of her, she watched with annoyance as they shook. She was a doctor; nothing should shake her composure. More than that, Shea knew her own worth, had complete faith in herself.

Her chin went up. She walked into the main room, avoiding looking at him as she opened the refrigerator and took out some apple juice. Her stomach lurched. The thought of swallowing the liquid made her ill. Something inside her had changed dramatically, as she suspected. She needed to take more blood samples, find out just what was going on with her body. Yet for the first time in her life, she found herself reluctant to study data.

What are you doing?
He sounded curious.

“Actually, I'm not sure. I thought I would drink juice, but…” She trailed off, uncertain what to say. Shea always had a firm direction; now she was seriously floundering. Pouring the juice into a glass, she stared at it helplessly.

You will make yourself ill. Do not touch that.

“Why would apple juice make me ill?” she asked, curious. Did he know what had happened to her?

You need blood. You are not nearly strong enough. I have scanned your body. Although I am not able to help you as of yet, I can see the need for proper nourishment. Your body cannot cope with the demands you make on it
.

“I don't want to discuss what I should or shouldn't do.” It bothered her the way he sounded so concerned, almost tender. His voice had a way of making her want to do anything he asked of her, including drinking the blood. She could smell it. She could hear his heart, the rush of blood through his veins. For the space of a heartbeat she allowed the sound to echo in her head, to feed the hunger gnawing at her. She bit down hard on her lower lip. She needed to put a little distance between them. His personality was extremely overpowering. Something deep within her, something wild she hadn't known was a part of her, was calling
out to him. The chemistry was so strong, she ached just looking at him. Shea unbolted the cabin door, began to open it.

Stop!
The command was soft, menacing, yet she caught the hint of desperation. The door seemed to be jerked out of her hand by some unknown force and slammed closed. Shocked, she dropped the glass in her hand. It smashed on the floor. She watched the apple juice spread out in a golden stain, the pattern particularly odd, almost like the yawning jaws of a wolf.

With an effort Jacques calmed himself. It was absolute hell to be so helpless, to be trapped in a useless body. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, releasing the terror her rash action had caused.
I am sorry, Shea. You did not scan to see if there was danger near. We are hunted. You must never forget that. You must stay close to me so I can be of some use if you are threatened. I did not mean to frighten you.

She looked up at him, her green eyes bewildered. “I don't know what you mean by scanning.” She said it absently, as if her mind was on something else.

Come here to me
. His voice whispered over her skin. He held out a hand to her, his eyes eloquent, hungry. He wanted something from her she dared not think about.

“Not on your life.” He looked so sensual, so sexy, he took her breath away. Shea felt behind her for the wall, leaned against it for stability.

I am not asking for much. Walk to me. It is only a few short steps.
Black velvet enticed her; warmth flooded her mind.

She regarded him carefully. “You know what's wrong with me, don't you? You did something to me. I know you did. I feel it. Tell me what you've done.” Her face was pale, her enormous eyes accusing.

We are one, bound together.

There was the impression of puzzlement. Jacques felt her confusion; he was a shadow in her mind. Yet he was as confused as she was. She truly didn't understand what he meant by scanning, which was ingrained in him just as breathing was. She had no idea what he meant by their being bound together, yet to him it was perfectly clear. Still, he was not certain he could explain it to her adequately. Why didn't she know these things? He was the one damaged. His was the mind shattered, his the memories scattered to the four corners of the earth.

Shea rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. “You shut that door, didn't you? You took it out of my hands and slammed it closed right from the bed. You did it with your mind, didn't you?” She could do many things, had special gifts, but this unknown man had tremendous powers she could barely comprehend. What was he? What else was he capable of? The pull between them was so strong—had she allowed something outside herself to dictate her own actions? Shea was uncertain of the answer.

At once Jacques sought to soothe her. He didn't know what was upsetting her so much—it was a natural part of his life to move objects with his mind—but his need was to overcome her distress. He sent her warmth and reassurance, comfort.
I am sorry, Shea, I was thinking only of your protection. It is difficult for me to know we are hunted while I am so helpless to protect you, that we cannot leave this place because of my weakness. You are tied to my side, and I endanger you.
He tried as hard as he could to undo the damage his thoughtlessness had caused. She deserved so much more than a half-mad lifemate. She seemed to have no real idea of what they needed to survive.
You have no conception of the monsters we are dealing with. It is always important to scan as you wake, before you leave a dwelling.
He tried to be gentle as he imparted the information. It was easy for him to read her mounting fears.

“I don't know what you mean.”

Her genuine puzzlement brought out a protective urge in him so strong that it shook his narrow world. He wanted to take her into his arms and shelter her for all eternity within his soul. She looked impossibly small and fragile, the questions in her mind as easy to read as the worry on her transparent face. His dark eyes widened in sudden understanding.
You do not know the ways of our people at all, do you?

“What people? I'm an American, of Irish descent. I came here to do research on a rare blood disorder, which I seem to share with you. That's all.” Unknowingly she was biting her lip, her knuckles white from clenching her fists, her body tense, waiting for his reply.

He cursed his inability to remember basic things, certain they were of great importance to the two of them. If she was as much in the dark as he was, they were in deep trouble. It was frustrating to have so many gaps in his mind.
You are of this land. I feel your connection to this land. I know absolutely that you are mine, that we belong together.

Shea shook her head. “My mother was Irish. My father was from this region, but I never even knew him. I arrived here for the first time only a couple of months ago. I swear I've never been here before.”

We do not have a disorder, a disease. Our people have existed as they are from the dawn of time.
He did not know where that piece of information came from. It was simply there.

“But that's impossible. People do not require drinking blood to live. I'm a doctor, Jacques. I do medical research all the time. I know. This is extremely rare.” She could feel her breath refusing to leave her lungs.

You can accept that I remained buried alive for an eternity, yet you cannot accept that our people exist?

Shea bent to pick up the scattered pieces of glass, needing
something practical to do while she tried to hold on to her self-control. What was he really saying to her? That he did not have a blood disorder but was of another race or…species? “We don't know how long you were there,” she said uneasily, slowly mopping up the juice.

How long ago were you shown the picture of me?

Shea dumped the broken glass into the garbage can. “Two years ago,” she admitted reluctantly. “The vampire murders occurred seven years ago. They claimed the photos were of those victims. But it would be impossible, totally impossible, for you to have survived that long. That would mean you were buried with a stake through your body for seven years. It's impossible, Jacques.” She turned to him, her eyes enormous. “Isn't it?”

Not if I shut down my heart and lungs. My blood would not run
, he explained, choosing his words carefully, afraid of upsetting her.

It had just the opposite effect. “You can do that? Really do that?” Now she was excited. “You can control your heart rate, slow it down, speed it up? My God, Jacques, this is incredible. There are monks who can do such a thing, but not on the scale you imply.”

I can stop my heart if need be. You can stop yours.

“No, I can't.” She dismissed the idea as nonsense with a wave of a hand. “But is that really what you did? Stop your heart? Is that how you survived being buried alive? Lord, that must have driven you mad. I don't know if I can make myself believe this. How did you eat? You were chained, both hands.” Her thoughts and questions stumbled over one another in her excitement.

I woke rarely, only when I sensed blood nearby. I called creatures to me. You must know you can do that.
He was pleased that for once he could give her information.
I managed to scratch a hole in the wood to allow them in
.

Shea could call animals to her; she had been doing it since
she was a child. And that talent she and Jacques shared accounted for the rat carcasses she had seen buried in the wall with him. “Are you saying there are others who do these things?” She hurried to her computer, turning on the generator so she could work. “What else do you remember?”

She was so excited, he wanted to give her more information, but as hard as he tried to come up with something, his head simply pounded, and memories eluded him. Shea felt his distress, glanced over at him, saw the faint sheen of perspiration beading on his forehead.

Immediately her eyes warmed, her mouth curving softly. “Jacques, I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me to press you like that. Don't try to think right now. Things will come back to you eventually. I've got plenty to work on right here. You just rest.”