Текст книги "Dark Desire"

Автор книги: Christine Feehan

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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.”

“The others tried to speak to you,” she guessed shrewdly.

“Each used a different path when they reached for me. I could feel their touch but could not tune it in. When Carpathians exchange blood, the mental bond becomes stronger. Each individual sharing creates an exclusive path that only the two participants can use.” Another fragment of information came out of nowhere. “Males rarely exchange blood unless they have a lifemate.”

Why?Thequestion shimmered in his mind. Shea didn’t even realize it.

Jacques made the mental equivalent of a shrug. “Once blood has been taken, we can track at will. The closer the bond, the stronger the trail. If it is an actual exchange, each can easily find and ‘speak’ to the other. Males can turn after so many centuries alone.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, turn.”‘

“After two hundred years we lose all emotion, all ability to feel. We are natural predators, Shea. We need a lifemate to bring back feeling, to balance us. As the centuries go by, it is easy to give in to the need to feel something, even if only momentarily. A kill while feeding brings a rush of power. But it also turns one. Once a Carpathian turns, he can never go back. He becomes the thing of human legend. A vampire. An amoral killer, cold-blooded, without compassion. He must be hunted and destroyed.” A grim smile touched his mouth, did not reach his black eyes. “You can see why lone males rarely take the chance of a blood exchange. It is incredibly easy to be tracked after an exchange, and if one turns...”

Shea’s white teeth scraped at her lower lip. Beneath his fingers her pulse was racing. “I don’t want to believe what you’re saying.”

“You saved me from such a fate. I know my mind is still in fragments, but I am saved from walking the earth as the undead.”

“Those men, the ones who came after me...”

“They are human killers.” There was contempt in his mind, in his voice. “Those they destroyed were Carpathian, not vampire.”

“So the one you called the betrayer...”

“Is a Carpathian... turned vampire.”

Chapter Nine

A gust of wind howled, raced through the room, brought a spray of rain through the door. Jacques gently pushed Shea behind him. “The others come,” he warned her.

Shea groped behind her for the wall. These people were definitely a different species. Her father had also been one of them. A part of her was intrigued and excited. If she studied them as a scientist, she would be in her element. But she was stuck in the middle of the drama instead of being able to observe it from a distance. She caught Jacques’ wrist. “Let’s just go far away from here, away from these people, this place.”

“It is important to know as much as possible.” His voice was soft and mesmerizing, deliberately tender, wrapping her in the safe cocoon of his protection. “The healer comes with the one who names himself my brother. The woman is with them.” He was uneasy not knowing where the third male was. He trusted none of them completely. Somewhere deep inside himself he knew his tormentors had ripped out something precious that he could never fully regain.

Shea’s hand crept up his arm. Her forehead rested against the middle of his broad back, a tender, loving gesture of solidarity. Jacques could not bear to withdraw completely from her mind, so it was easy for her to hear the echo of his thoughts when she wanted. She felt sorrow for him, sorrow for both of them. “Whatever was taken from you, Jacques, has only made you stronger. The one who healed you was a miracle-worker,” she whispered softly, meaning it. “I’ve never seen anything to equal it. But it’s really your own determination that kept you alive.”

Jacques tried to hear that she was consoling him, but instead he heard the interest in her voice, the trace of envy that Gregori could heal so magically, so quickly. The Carpathian had accomplished, in one short session, what she could not. Before he could reply, tell her it was she who had saved his life, the wind was bringing rain and mist streaming through the open door.

The healer, Gregori, shimmered into view, followed quickly by Mikhail, then Raven. Jacques narrowed his gaze, glimpses of memories instantly triggered. Flying in the body of an owl, running in the forest in the body of a wolf, becoming the mist and fog. Behind him, Shea’s breath caught in her throat, and she stared at their visitors, at Jacques, awed and intimidated by the display of shape-shifting, the example of power so casually wielded.

Gregori’s pale silver eyes examined every inch of Jacques. “You look better. How are you feeling?” Jacques nodded slowly. “Much better. Thank you.”

“You need to feed. Your woman is still pale and worn. She should be resting. If you like, I could heal her bruises.” Gregori made the offer in his casual, indifferent way. His voice was so compelling, so beautiful, it was nearly impossible to deny him anything. There was a purity in his voice, a whisper of black velvet. He never raised his tone or appeared anything but calm and unruffled.

Shea’s heart gave a leap, then settled into a hard, rhythmic pounding. She found herself listening intently, wanting him to go on speaking, wanting to do whatever he asked. Mentally, she shook her head. Gregori’s abilities intrigued her, but he was far too powerful. He had not used any kind of mental enhancement, no compulsion, no hypnotic suggestions. His voice was a weapon in itself. She sensed he was the most dangerous Carpathian in the room. She had not been in such close proximity with so many people in a very long time. She needed to be alone with Jacques, to give herself time to adjust.

“We thank you for the offer, healer, but Shea is unused to our ways.” Jacques couldn’t remember most of them himself. He was as uneasy in the presence of the Carpathians as Shea. His black eyes glittered like ice, caught and trapped the reflection of a lightning whip as it sizzled across the dark sky. “The other male is not with you.”

“Byron,” Mikhail supplied. “He has been a good friend to you for centuries. He is aware that you completed the ritual and this woman is your true lifemate. Search your mind, Jacques. Remember how difficult this time is on our unattached males.”

Shea’s face went crimson under the unearthly paleness. The reference to the ritual had to mean they were aware Jacques had made love to her. The lack of privacy disturbed her immensely. She went to move around Jacques, strongly objecting to the this womanlabel. She did have a name. She was a person. She had a feeling they all thought her the hysterical type. She certainly hadn’t managed to show them her normal calm self.

Jacques stepped backward and his arm swept behind him to pin her against the wall. He never took his eyes from the trio before them. He knew he was unstable, still fighting to hold on to reason when his every instinct was to attack. He trusted none of them and would not allow Shea to be put in any danger.

Shea retaliated with a hard pinch. She was not going to cower behind her wild man like some seventeenth-century heroine fainting with the vapors. So she was surrounded by a few vampires. Big deal.

Carpathians.Jacques sounded amused.

If you laugh at me, Jacques, I might find another wooden stake and come after you myself,she warned him silently. “Well, for heaven’s sake.” Shea sounded exasperated as she addressed the group. “We’re all civilized, aren’t we?” She shoved at Jacques’ broad back. “Aren’t we?”

“Absolutely.” Raven stepped forward, ignoring Mikhail’s restraining hand. “At least the women are. The men around here haven’t quite graduated from the swinging-through-trees stage yet.”

“I owe you an apology for last night, Miss O’Halloran,” Mikhail said with far too much Old World charm. “When I saw you crouched over my brother, I thought...”

Raven snorted. “He didn’t think, he reacted. He really is a great man, but overprotective with the people he loves.” There was a wealth of love in her teasing tone. “Honestly, Jacques, you can’t keep her prisoner, locked up like some nun in a convent.”

Shea was mortified. Jacques, move! You’re embarrassing me.

With great reluctance Jacques stepped aside. Shea could feel the instant tension in the room, the red haze building in Jacques’ mind. To reassure him, she took his hand, kept her mind firmly linked to his. The moment she was exposed to the others, she could feel their eyes examining every inch of her.

Raven glanced at Gregori, clearly worried.

Self-consciously, Shea shoved at her hair. She hadn’t even looked at herself in the mirror. Jacques tightened his hold on her hand. Do not! You are beautiful as you are. They have no right to judge you in any way.

“Jacques,” Gregori said softly, “your woman needs to feed, to heal. You must allow me to help her.”

Shea’s chin went up, eyes flashing green fire. “I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. He doesn’t allowme to do or not do anything. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll heal with time.”

“You’ll get used to them,” Raven said hastily. “They’re really big on women’s health. It would help you, Shea—may I call you Shea?” Raven smiled when Shea nodded. “We’d be happy to answer any of your questions. It would be nice to get to know you. After all, we are in-laws of sorts,” she pointed out.

The rush of fear-based adrenaline in Shea’s body at that simple observation of her commitment to Jacques triggered an aggressive reaction in Jacques. Lightning slashed across the sky, sizzled and danced, hit the ground in thunderous fury. The wind hurtled through the cabin, lashed at the windows and walls. A low, ominous growl rumbled in Jacques’ throat. Shea felt the beast in him rising, felt him welcome it, reach for it with murderous intent. She whirled to face him, slammed her palms flat on his chest, and shoved him as hard as she could, walking him backward toward a far comer.

You will not do this, Jacques. I need you sane right now. I’m doing my best to hold it together, but if there’s a fight, I’ll go crazy, I swear it. Please help me now. Please.Therewere tears in her mind, a vulnerability Jacques had never seen in her.

Jacques’ arms swept around her, cradling her close as he struggled to regain control. Her distress seemed to give him added strength. He lifted his head, black eyes moving warily over the two males. Mikhail and Gregori looked perfectly at ease, yet Jacques sensed their alertness. He forced himself to smile, then shrug casually. “I am afraid my mind has not healed as my body has. You will have to have patience with me. Please enter our home as our guests.” The formal words came out of nowhere.

Mikhail swung the door closed. “Thank you, Jacques. We want only to help you and your lifemate.” He deliberately seated himself, placing himself in a vulnerable position. Raven perched comfortably on the arm of his chair. Gregori moved across the room with a deceptively lazy stride. He walked with fluid grace, an animal sensuality, but Jacques was well aware that the healer was subtly placing his body between the couple and Jacques.

Gregori. The ancient one. The dark one.The words shimmered in his mind. Gregori was a very dangerous man. “I remember little of my past,” he admitted softly. “Perhaps it would be better for all of us if Shea and I kept to ourselves. I am well aware I am unstable, and I would not want anyone to get hurt.”

Shea turned in his arms to face the Carpathians. “We appreciate your help. It’s just that this is all so new to both of us.”

Gregori’s silver eyes studied her pale face, seeming to look right through her into her soul. “You are a doctor?”

Shea shivered. The healer’s voice was incredibly compelling. The man had far too much power. “Yes, I’m a surgeon.”

A smile curved the healer’s sensual mouth. He was charismatic, but Shea was well aware that his silver eyes had not warmed in the least. They were cool and watchful. “You are very good. Carpathians do not respond well to human healing. Jacques was healing despite the odds against it. We are all indebted to you.”

“You were able to do in an hour what several days of my care could not accomplish.” In spite of herself there was a note of admiration in her voice.

“How is it you found Jacques when we could not?” Again Gregori’s voice was casual, but she sensed the question was a trap.

Her chin lifted, her green eyes defiant. “Seven years ago, while studying, I was overcome with pain. Pain there was no medical explanation for. The agony lasted for hours. From that night on, I had dreams of a man tortured, in pain, calling to me.”

“Where were you?” Gregori questioned.

“In the United States.” Shea swept her fingers through her hair, found her hand was trembling, and put it behind her back. Those glittering pale eyes were disconcerting. They seemed to see right into her soul, see every mistake she had ever made. “I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s true. I had no idea there really was a man, that he was suffering.” Guilt washed over her. “I should have found him sooner, but I didn’t believe...” She trailed off, tears welling up.

Do not do this, my love,Jacques commanded, his arms tightening protectively. They have no right to judge you. None of them came for me. You did, across an ocean. And I did not treat you gently.He touched the warmth of his mouth to her bruised throat. “Yet you returned to me in spite of the way I attacked you.” He said the last aloud deliberately, a warning to the Carpathians to back off from questioning her.

“You must have been terrified,” Raven said softly.

Shea nodded and sent Jacques a small smile. “He was definitely something I had never encountered in my practice.” She was striving for normalcy in a world that was turned upside down.

“You are young to be a doctor,” Mikhail observed.

Shea made herself really look at him for the first time. Jacques and Mikhail shared the same powerful build, the thick mane of hair, the ice-black eyes. They both carried the hard edge of authority, self-confidence, and the trace of arrogance that came with it. Jacques’ finely chiseled features were more worn from his ordeal. “You look young to be centuries old,” she countered, remembering the feel of his fingers on her throat.

Mikhail acknowledged her with a slight grin and a nod.

Beside her, Jacques fought down the snarling beast the memory of Mikhail’s attack triggered. Shea ignored him. “A woman named Noelle had a child, a son, with a man named Rand. Do you know where the boy is? He would be twenty-six now,” she asked.

Mikhail’s features stilled, became a mask. A slow hiss escaped, and Jacques instinctively edged around Shea so that she was behind him.

Be very careful, Mikhail,Gregoriwarned.

“Noelle was our sister,” Mikhail stated softly, “murdered just weeks after the child was born.” Shea nodded. The information confirmed what Jacques had already told her. “And the child?”

I do not like this, Gregori. Why would she wish to know of Noelle ‘s child? Humans murdered her. They have a network with far-reaching tentacles. Perhaps she is a part of it after all.Mikhail’s voice shimmered in Gregori’s mind.

Jacques would know.Gregori was certain. Maybe not. His mind is shattered.