He looked like a demon, an invincible predator. The impression was so strong that she brought a protective hand to her throat to cover the evidence of the ragged wounds there.

Jacques was unaware of Shea, the room, even his own weak body. The sensation of battle was strong in him. He touched the uneven, faint white scar curving around his jugular. The impression of danger was so strong, he felt the beast in him rage for release. Fangs exploded in his mouth, and his nails began to lengthen. His muscles rippled and contracted, and his power and enormous strength bonded briefly with his will. A slow, venomous hiss escaped him. Then the pain in his body from muscles waiting for release made him aware of lying helpless in a bed. He dimly remembered a woman’s anxious face, tears swimming in her large blue eyes. He should know her. He should know. Fists clenched, and he welcomed the exploding pain that drove the fragment of memory from his mind.

Shea saw his hands come up, clutch at his head to try to stop the pain. Instantly she was back at his side, soothing fingers brushing at the hair spilling across his forehead. “Jacques, stop tormenting yourself. It will all come back to you. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Things are already coming back.” Shea padded across the room to her dresser and pulled out fresh clothes. “You persist in thinking your body can instantly set aside the trauma it suffered. It needs rest to repair itself, rest and care. So does your mind.”

I cannot do the things I must. I remember nothing, yet I feel there are things important to both of us I need to know.

She smiled at his frustration. Jacques was a man unused to being ill or injured. “You referred to yourself as a Carpathian. You know you’re from this mountain range. You remembered that.”

She moved into the other room. He could hear the sound of her dressing, the whisper of silk panties and cotton jeans sliding over her bare legs. His body clenched, burned, the rush of heat adding to his discomfort.

“Jacques?” Her voice was so soft, playing along his skin and nerve endings like the touch of fingers. “Please don’t be discouraged. Technically, you should be dead. You beat all the odds.” She moved back into the room, towel-drying her hair. “You thought I was one of your people. A Carpathian. Who are they? Can you remember?”

I am Carpathian. We are immortal. We can...He stopped, the information eluding him.

Shea leaned against the wall, regarding him with fascinated awe. Her mouth was suddenly dry; her heart slammed hard against her chest. “What are you saying, Jacques? You live forever?” What washe? And why was she beginning to believe him? Seven years buried alive. Surviving on the blood of rats. She had seen the red glow in his eyes on more than one occasion. She felt his impossible strength, even injured as severely as he was.

Her hands, clutching the towel, were trembling so much, she put them behind her back. Vampire.The word came unbidden to her mind. “It isn’t true,” she denied in a whisper. “It’s impossible. I am not anything like that. I won’t believe you.”

Shea.Hisvoice was calm, tranquil, as she became more agitated. He needed all his memories, not these shattered bits and pieces that frustrated him so.

“Jacques, you might be a vampire. I’m so confused, I’ll almost believe anything. But I am not like that.” She was talking more to herself than to him. Every horrible tale of vampires ever told rose up to haunt her. Her hand crept up to her neck as she recalled the vicious way he had taken her blood the first time they had met. He’d nearly killed her. “You didn’t because you needed me to help you,” she said suddenly, softly. It didn’t occur to her that she had become so accustomed to his reading her mind, she simply accepted that he would know what she was talking about. Was he controlling her all the time? Couldn’t vampires do that?

Jacques watched her closely, his body motionless, his icy black eyes unblinking. He could taste her fear in his mouth, feel it beat at him in his mind. Even while she was afraid, her brain processed information at a remarkable rate. The way she shoved emotion aside to concentrate on the intellectual was a protection. He had given her a glimpse of the darkness in him, the violence. It was something that was as natural to him as breathing. Sooner or later she would have to face what and who he really was.

Shea felt caught in the trap of his merciless, empty black eyes, like a mesmerized rabbit. As frozen as she was, her body wanted to move toward him, as if under a strange compulsion. “Answer me, Jacques. You know everything I’m thinking. Answer me.”

After seven years of pain and starvation, little red hair, after torment and suffering, I thought to take your blood.

“My life,” she corrected bravely, needing all the pieces of the puzzle.

He stared relentlessly, the watchful eyes of a predator. Shea twisted her fingers together in agitation. He looked a stranger, an invincible being with no real emotion, only a hard resolve and a killer’s instincts. She cleared her throat. “You needed me.”

I had no thought but to feed. My body recognized yours before my mind did.“I don’t understand.”

Once I recognized you as my lifemate, my first thought was to punish you for leaving me in torment, then bind you to me for eternity.Therewas no apology, only a waiting.

Shea sensed danger, but she did not back down. “How did you bind me to you?” The exchange of our blood.

Her heart slammed painfully. “What does that mean, exactly?”

The blood bond is strong. I am in your mind, as you are in mine. It is impossible for us to lie to one another. I feel your emotions and know your thoughts as you do mine.

She shook her head in denial. “That may be true for you, but not for me. I feel your pain at times, but I never know your thoughts.”

That is because you choose not to merge with me. Your mind seeks the touch and reassurance of mine often, yet you refuse to allow it, so I merge with you to prevent your discomfort.

Shea could not deny the truth in his words. Often she felt her mind tuning itself to his, reaching out for him. Disturbed by the unwanted and unfamiliar need, she always imposed a strict discipline on herself. It was unconscious on her part, something she did automatically for self-protection. Jacques, within minutes of her need arising, always reached for her to merge them.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You seem to know more about what is happening here than I do, Jacques. Tell me.”

Lifemates are bound together for all eternity. One cannot exist without the other. We balance one another. You are the light to my darkness. We must share one another often.

Her face paled. Her legs weakened. She sat down abruptly on the floor. Hermother. All of her life she had condemned her mother for living a shadow existence.If Jacques was telling the truth, and something in her feared he was, had this happened to her mother? Had Jacques sentenced Shea to the same terrible fate?

Shea’s hand found the wall. Using it as a support, she pulled herself up. “I refuse to buy into this. I am not your lifemate. I made no commitment, nor will I.” She began edging along the wall toward the door.

Shea, do not!Itwas no plea, rather an imperious command, his harsh features an implacable mask.

“I won’t let you do this to me. I don’t care if you are a vampire. You can make the choice to kill me, Jacques, because there is no other way.”

You have no conception of power, Shea, its uses or misuses.Hisvoice was a soft menace, the tone sending a shiver down her spine. Do not defy me.

Her chin lifted. “My mother’s life was a waste and my childhood hell. If the man who was my father was like you and somehow bound her to him, then abandoned her—” She broke off, took a deep breath to regain control. “I’m strong, Jacques. No one is going to own me or control me or abuse me. I will not kill myself over a man’s desertion. Nor would I ever leave my child alone in the world while I withdrew and became an empty shell.”