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.Hewas 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.”

Grateful for her compassion, Jacques allowed the fragmented pieces of his memory to escape for a while and leave him in peace. He watched with interest as Shea took a blood sample from her arm and made several smears on small glass squares. Her excitement was so intense, her rush of joy so totally encompassing, that it pushed aside her gnawing hunger. Her mind was consumed with facts, hypotheses, and a bombardment of data. All at once she was far away from him, completely absorbed with her work. Jacques watched her, reached lazily for the glass on the end table, and swallowed the contents to dull his own terrible hunger.

Even after an hour of observation he saw that Shea remained completely focused on whatever she was doing, concentrating totally on her task. He enjoyed watching her, found her fascinating, every turn of her head, the fringe of her long eyelashes in profile. She often shoved at her hair when she was puzzled. Small teeth would worry her full lower lip. Her fingers flew on the keyboard, her gaze fastened on the monitor. Frequently she would consult notes and several books with a slight, all-too-alluring frown on her face. He found he liked that little frown, the habit she had of biting her lip.

Every time he recognized hunger beating at her, she seemed to be able to push it aside. Just as she had temporarily pushed him aside, out of her thoughts. That actually annoyed him a bit, but he also felt a sense of pride in her. Whatever she did, she did wholeheartedly. Still, Shea was ignoring the danger to herself, so absorbed in her work that she blocked out everything around her. Jacques thought about reminding her of the hazards, but instead he opted to remain alert enough to scan their surroundings, slipping in and out of the mortal’s sleep.

Jacques jerked himself awake four hours later, then cursed at the clumsiness that sent pain spiraling through his body. He felt hunger, weakness, a swaying dizziness. Black eyes leapt to Shea. She was peering at a notebook, pencil clenched in her teeth. Her skin was so pale, it was nearly translucent. The intense emotions in the room were hers, yet she seemed not to notice. Her mind fought to merge with his; he could feel it tuning itself, vibrating with need, but Shea was disciplined, strong, and very determined. She brought her thoughts back under control, focusing on her work.

He felt a curious melting in the region of his heart. Ice-cold hatred and fury, the need for revenge, for retribution, had been the force driving him to live. He had not thought himself capable of tenderness, yet Shea managed to bring it out of him. He was first and always a predator. Shea was light to his darkness, radiating beauty as if it shone through her skin from her soul. She had introduced gentler emotions to him.

She needed a break, rest. Most of all she needed to feed. If he was completely honest, he needed her touch, her attention. Deliberately, he moaned softly in his mind, his head back, eyes closed. He sensed her instant alertness, her concern. A rustle of papers signaled she had set her notes aside. Jacques beat down a sense of triumph, concentrating on the pain that encompassed his battered body.

Shea glided across the room, not noticing how silent she was, how efficient her body had become, moving with grace and speed. Her hand was cool on his forehead, soothing. She brushed back his grimy hair, her touch so soft that his heart ached. She bent to examine his wounds with a professional eye. Antibiotics wouldn’t work on him any more than they did on her. Perhaps new soil would help. “I’m sorry I can’t take your pain away, Jacques. I would if I could.” Her voice was filled with concern, with regret. “I’ll get you some fresh soil and wash your hair for you. It isn’t much, but it can be soothing and might help.” Her fingers were drawn to his mane of hair again, then traced his shadowed jaw in a small caress.

Both his hands came up, caught her with surprising strength, his black eyes capturing hers so that she felt she was falling forward into those dark, mysterious pools. You have not fed.She could get lost in his gaze for all time. She could hear the sound of her heart tuning itself to his. It was strange yet normal how their hearts seemed to want to beat in the same rhythm.