His eyes answered, impatient, frustrated at his own inability.
Her fingertips found his forehead, calming, soothing. “Don’t worry. Your body’s been through a lot. Give it some time. You’re already healing amazingly fast. Do you know who did this to you?”
Two humans, one betrayer.Ragewelled up, and for a moment red flames glowed in the depths of his black eyes.
Shea’s heart nearly stopped, and she jerked backward to put distance between them. He moved faster, his arm a blur. His fingers circled her wrist, preventing escape. His grip was unbreakable—she felt his raw strength—yet he was not hurting her at all.
With an effort he pushed down the demons, angry with himself for alarming her. His thumb feathered lightly over the inside of her wrist, making him all too aware of her pulse racing frantically. Very, very gently he tugged until she was forced to his side. I know little of my past, but almost from the beginning of my imprisonment I have known of you. I waited. I called you to my side. I hated you for allowing my suffering to continue.
She caught his face in her hands, suddenly anxious that he believe her. “I didn’t know. I swear to you, I didn’t know. I never would have left you there.” Grief clogged her throat that she had not somehow ended his suffering sooner. What was it about him that drew her like a magnet, that captivated her and made her want to ease his pain? The urge was so strong in her, so intense, she could hardly bear to see him lying so vulnerable and shattered.
I know you speak the truth; you cannot lie to me. It was a courageous thing you did, rescuing me. But as your lifemate I can do no other than forbid you to ever take such a risk again.Hesounded totally complacent, as if she would do as he said simply because he wished it. Every moment he was awake he became more tyrannical, more possessive. She glared at him, her green eyes smoldering dangerously. “You can quit with the orders, Mr. Jacques whoever-you-are. No one tells me what to do.”
His black gaze slid over her calmly. So she had not been part of his life before. The information amazed him. How had she found the courage to save him the way she had? How had she returned to him after he had nearly ripped her throat out? His fingers tightened around her wrist, tugged until she relaxed against him.
You, are my lifemate.The words came from somewhere deep inside his heart. He had no idea why he needed to say them, he knew only that it was imperative that he do so; it seemed his entire being forced the words out of his soul. I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. 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 cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.
Shea heard the words echoing in her mind, felt a rush of heat, of blood. Fear welled up, stark terror. “What have you done?” She whispered it, her eyes enormous. “What have you done to us?”
You know the answer.
She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t. I don’t know. But I’m different, I can feel it. Those words did something to us.” She could feel it; she couldn’t describe it. She felt tiny threads, a million strong binding his soul to hers, weaving their hearts together, their minds. She no longer felt like a single entity but one complete being with him. There had always been a raw emptiness inside her; now it was gone.
He released her wrist reluctantly, traced his fingertips along her high cheekbone. His mind touched hers, found genuine fear and confusion. I am as much in the dark as you are. I know only that you ended my suffering, that you came to my call, that I recognize my other half. You are the light to my darkness.
Shea edged away from him, making certain to get beyond his reach. “I’m your doctor, Jacques, nothing more. I heal people.” She said it more for herself than for him. Shea had no idea what he was talking about. She worried that his mind was playing tricks on him, weaving fantasies for him. Intellectually, Shea knew no one could tie another to himself with words, yet she feltthreads binding them together. There were too many things she didn’t understand. Jacques was half mad, his mind shattered, his memories coming to him in tiny pieces, yet maybe he was more stable than she was. It was a scary thought.
She was so hungry, the need for blood nearly overwhelming. She had never experienced such a craving. Shea decided she was feeling Jacques’ hunger, that somehow she was actually sharing his distress. At once she poured the wild man two pints of blood from her supply and took the tall glass to his bedside. “I’m sorry, I should have realized you’d be hungry. If you let me give you intravenous fluids, it would help.” The moment she put the glass down, she retreated to her computer desk.
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 uncharacteristically 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.