No! It is not safe. I will not allow such a thing. It is too risky.
She ignored his protest. "It is the only way that I can get back here by nightfall. I don't want to leave you alone during the daylight hours, but we need blood, Jacques. You're not healing as fast as you expect because we don't have the amount of blood you need. And as much as I hate to think about it, I know you're supplying me with blood. I was so weak before, but now I'm stronger. You gave me your blood, didn't you?"
You cannot go.
She understood the terrible dread, the empty void he would feel if she left him alone now. The dark, ugly hole that swallowed him when he was without her. Her heart ached for him. To be imprisoned underground all those years, with no memory, only pain and darkness and starvation, had to have left mental scars.
I cannot be without you.
His hand found hers, his fingers lacing with hers, a bond. To him it was simple. She was his balance, his sanity, or what little remained of it. She was light to his darkness. She could not leave him. He carried her fingertips to the warmth of his mouth.
She felt the jolt of sensual awareness right down to her toes.
His mind was open to hers, the ultimate intimacy, so that she could feel his every emotion, read his every thought if she chose. Dark desires mingled turbulently with stark resolve to keep her close to his side. Isolation yawned like a black, empty hole. So alone. So much pain. Emptiness. Hunger. Always the terrible hunger consuming him. She found tears on her face. Her arms cradled his head, rocked him gently. "You're not alone anymore," she whispered. "I'm right here with you, Jacques. I'm not leaving you alone like this."
It is still in your mind to leave me. You cannot hide your intentions from me, Shea. I have explained countless times to you. You are my true lifemate. There cannot be deceit between us.
Shea laid her head gently over his. The dark emotions whirling within him were becoming alarming to both of them. Violence was mixed with terror. "I have never tried to deceive you. You know that. I don't lie to you, and I don't play games. We need the blood. You won't get better without it. There's no other way."
You cannot leave me, Shea.
This time his voice was a demand. He lost the indulgence often present when he conversed with her. All at once he was a being of enormous power, arrogant and commanding.
Shea sighed, her fingers caressing the strong bones of his face. "Don't go getting all bossy with me, wild man. We need to stay focused on our problem. We need blood. And I don't have any clothes that would fit you. Do you have a better idea?"
Wait until I am stronger and can go with you to protect you.
She shook her head. "You keep getting mixed up. I'm supposed to be protecting you. I'm your doctor."
You are my lifemate. There is only one. You are mine. Only one.
She lifted her head, green eyes searching his face. "You've never lived with a woman? You must have had sex."
Carpathians do not live with any other than their lifemate. Sex is a simple sharing of the body, a pleasure that fades along with emotions after two hundred years if we do not find our lifemate.
"I don't understand. Without a lifemate, Carpathians feel nothing?"
Nothing, Shea. Not affection or remorse, not right or wrong. Certainly not desire. After two hundred years Carpathian males cannot feel.
Color flooded her face. "You feel desire when you're with me. I may not be experienced, but I do have medical training."
His fingers tightened around hers, his breath warm along her knuckles.
I want you with every cell in my body, with my mind and my heart. Your soul is the other half of mine. When you are with me, I feel. Joy, desire, anger, even laughter. You are my lifemate. I have waited over eight hundred years to find you. I could not see color until you came into my life.
His black eyes, worn with suffering, fastened on her green ones.
I cannot lose you. I can never be alone again. Mortals and immortals alike would be in danger should I lose you.
She didn't want to touch that. She murmured his name softly, brushed a kiss against his temple almost without knowing it.
I cannot exist without you, little red hair. There is darkness in me. The beast is strong. I struggle every moment against loss of control. My lifemate is my anchor. Only you can save me, keep me from walking in complete madness.
Shea brushed the hair from his face with gentle fingers. "How do you know this? You've admitted you can't remember much."
I have opened my mind to you. You know it is true. You anchor me, and I can do no other than see to your happiness.
Shea couldn't help but smile. "You have no idea how arrogant that sounds. You aren't responsible for my happiness. I'm responsible for my own happiness. And at this moment, whether your macho pride can deal with it or not, I am the one responsible for your health and safety. We don't have time to wait until you're better. I have to go now. Every day we wait gives Don Wallace time to find us. When you're able to travel, we'll leave this place." Her hand caressed his thick mane of hair. "I have to go, Jacques. I'm not leaving you, I'm only going for supplies."
He retreated from her for a moment and as always, it was impossible to read his expression. His black eyes flickered.
I will go with you.
Shea sat up reluctantly, hating to have to prove her point but knowing she must thwart his resolve. "Then let's try going outside onto the porch. Let me do most of the work."
You think I cannot do this.
"I think your will is strong, Jacques, but your body is weak. Perhaps I'm wrong. I hope I am." She was silent as she made the preparations. She knew he couldn't do it, not without terrible pain. The gurney was narrow and uncomfortable. Shea padded it with a blanket. As she helped him from the bed to the gurney, he broke out in a sweat, but he didn't make a sound. With a sinking heart she pushed him out into the night air. Of course he would tolerate movement silently. He had endured torture and hours of surgery without painkillers or anesthesia. If he made up his mind to do this, he would do so without complaint.
Jacques pushed the pain aside, staring up at the stars, inhaling the night. His world—open air, the rush of wings, the high chirp of bats, the call of insects. He closed his eyes, the better to absorb the smells, the stories. His body resisted the physical exertion, crawled with pain, a dull-edged knife sawing away at his chest.
"Jacques, please don't be stubborn. I feel what you feel."
There is no need, Shea. Do not merge with me. I would not wish this on you.
"Please allow me to take you inside and get you into bed. Just this small amount of movement is hurting you. I won't take you to the village no matter what you say. If the circumstances were reversed, you wouldn't take me."
A slight grin curved his mouth.
If the circumstances were reversed, there would be no need to go to the village. I would call every human in the vicinity to nourish you.
There was a threat in his voice, subtle but still there, and she caught the echo of his censored thought.
No human would ever be safe from him if Shea were hurt.
Shea touched his forehead gently. "I'm safe, Jacques, and for now, I'm in charge."
He gave the mental equivalent of absolute derision.
This place is familiar to me.
He was surveying his surroundings now, a peculiar glow in his black eyes.
I know this place. Something happened here a long time ago that I should remember.
His hand went of its own volition to his throat, tracing the thin, almost nonexistent white line curving around his jugular.
Only a severe mortal wound can leave a scar.
He murmured it aloud under his breath, as if to himself.
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 afresh 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."