Chapter Four

Shea opened the door to the night and inhaled deeply. The amount of information that flooded her was shocking. Creatures were roaming the forest, and Shea knew the precise location of each animal, from a pack of wolves several miles away to three mice scurrying in the bushes close by. She could hear water roaring in cascading falls and bubbling softly over rocks. The wind played through the trees, the underbrush, and the very leaves on the ground. The stars glittered overhead like millions of jewels radiating prisms of colors.

Entranced, Shea stepped from the cottage, leaving the door open to allow the odor of blood and sweat and pain to seep outside, to be replaced with clean, fresh air. She could hear the sap running like blood in the trees. Every plant had a special scent, a vivid color. It was as if she had been reborn into a whole new world. She lifted her face to the stars, drawing air into her lungs, relaxing for the first time in forty-eight hours.

An owl slipped silently through the sky, its wingspan incredibly long, each feather iridescent to her new sight. The sheer wonder of it drew her toward the deep woods. Droplets of water sparkled like diamonds on moss-covered rocks. The moss itself looked like emeralds scattered along the winding stream and up the trunks of trees. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

Her mind, as always, processed the data flooding into her brain. It was all a huge jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces were beginning to fit themselves together. She had been born to a woman who ate food and walked in the sunshine. Yet she—and others—displayed decided differences in sensitivities, metabolism, nutritional requirements. It was impossible to believe that the vampire legends were true. But could there be a separate race of people with incredible gifts who needed to drink blood to survive? Could they live incredibly long lives, survive the unthinkable, be able to control their hearts and lungs? Their bodies would have to process everything differently. Their organs would have to be different. Everything would be different.

Shea shoved at her hair. Her tongue swept her lower lip, teeth biting nervously. It was something out of a fairy tale. Or a horror film. Impossible. Wasn’t it? A man could not survive seriously wounded, buried seven years in the earth. No way. It couldn’t happen. But she had found him. It wasn’t a lie. She had uncovered him herself. So how could one’s sanity remain after seven years of being buried alive, of being in agony every moment? Her mind shied away from that question. She didn’t want to dwell on it.

And what was happening to her body? She was different. Many changes had started seven years ago, with sudden pain driving her to the point of unconsciousness. That episode had never been explained. Then the nightmares, so persistent, so relentless, never giving her a moment’s peace, had started. Jacques.Always Jacques. The picture, two years ago, the human butchers had shown her. The seventh one. Jacques.Something drawing her, calling her insistently to that horrible place of torture and cruelty. To Jacques.They had to be connected. Somehow, some way. Intellectually it seemed impossible. By every standard she knew it was impossible. Yet wasn’t her very existence strange? Her need to transfuse blood wasn’t psychosomatic; she had tried everything to overcome it. So maybe there was another explanation, one her human mind and prejudices could not comprehend, even with the facts in front of her.

Shea!Thecall was loud, a flood of fear and confusion, an impression of strangling, of darkness and pain.

I’m here, Jacques.She sent her answer back so easily it startled her. To reassure him, she tried to fill her mind with every beautiful thing she saw.

Come back to me. I need you.

She smiled at the demand in his voice; her heart somersaulted at the raw truth in his voice. He never tried to hide anything from her, not even his elemental fear of her leaving him to face the darkness alone. Spoiled brat.She sent it tenderly. There’s no need to sound like the lord of the manor. I’ll be right in.There was no reasonable explanation for the joy flooding her at the touch of his mind lingering possessively in hers. She shied away from looking at that one too closely, too.

Just come to me.Hewas more relaxed now, beating back his fear of isolation. I do not want to wake alone.

I do need an occasional break. How was I supposed to know you would wake at this precise moment?

She was teasing him. Warmth curled in the pit of his stomach. He had no memory of such a thing before Shea. There was no life before Shea. There had been only ugliness. His world had been torment and hell. He found himself smiling. Of course you should know when I wake. It is your duty.

I should have known you would think that way.Shea laughed aloud as she raced across the rough terrain back to the cabin, reveling in her ability to do so, at the sudden surge of strength she had never before experienced. For just a brief moment a heavy weight seemed lifted from her shoulders, and she knew carefree happiness.

Jacques found he couldn’t take her eyes from her. She looked so beautiful, her red hair tangled and wild, just begging for a man’s fingers to straighten it. Her eyes were sparkling as she came across the room to his side.

“Are you feeling any better?” As always she examined his wounds to see for herself if he was making progress.

He lifted a hand, needing to touch the silk of her hair. Much.It was a blatant lie, and she scowled at him.

“Is that so? I’m beginning to think you need a monitor like we have for newborns. I want you to lie quietly. I can tell you’ve been squirming around again.”

I have nightmares.Hisblack eyes never left her face, burning his brand into her heart. No one had the right to have eyes like his. Hungry eyes. Eyes that held fire and the promise of passion.

“We’ll have to do something about them,” Shea said with a slight smile. She hoped her own eyes weren’t revealing her confused, unfamiliar feelings for him. She would get over them soon; it was just that he was the sexiest thing she had ever encountered.

No one had ever needed her as he did. Not even her own mother. Jacques had a way of looking at her as if his life, the very air he breathed, depended solely on her. Intellectually she knew that any living person would really do for him, but she wrapped herself up in his hunger and fire anyway. For this time in her life, when she was alone and hunted, near the end of her endurance, and coping with many bizarre happenings, she would enjoy this unique experience.

His black eyes smoldered, a velvet seduction. I need a dream to rid myself of nightmares.

She backed away from him holding a palm outward to ward him off. “Just you keep your ideas to yourself,” she warned. “You have that devil’s look, the one that says no woman is safe.”

That is not true, Shea,hedenied, the hard edge of his mouth softening into temptation. Only one woman. You.

She laughed at him. “I think I’m very grateful you’re in no condition to move around. The sun is coming up, and I have to secure the cottage for daylight. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Shea patted the one comfortable chair she had.

You will lie beside me where you should be,heinformed her.

Shea carefully closed the shutters on the windows and fastened them. She was always cautious in locking her home. During the day she was very vulnerable. Already she could feel her body slowing, becoming heavier, more tired.

I want you to lie beside me.His voice was a sinful caress, enticing, insistent.

“I think you can manage all by yourself,” she answered, refusing to look into his dark, hypnotic eyes. Instead, she shut off her computer and the generator and locked the door.