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.
He sounded 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
felt
threads 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.
Such a nice body.
She nearly dropped her brush.
Will you stop!
Just the low velvet touch of his voice sent heat curling through her body. It was sinful and unfair to have such a voice.
I did not think you would ever speak with me as a lifemate would. I waited long for that impatient comment.
There was a teasing note now.
Shea went very still. Her face, reflected in the mirror, visibly whitened. She had not spoken the words aloud, yet he had heard her. Her teeth tugged worriedly at her lower lip. The change was in more than her body. Her capabilities were growing. She could talk to him easily using her mind. It shocked her that she could conceive of such a thing as normal. If she didn't think about it or analyze it, she could almost accept it. She found herself trembling. Extending her hands out in front of her, she watched with annoyance as they shook. She was a doctor; nothing should shake her composure. More than that, Shea knew her own worth, had complete faith in herself.
Her chin went up. She walked into the main room, avoiding looking at him as she opened the refrigerator and took out some apple juice. Her stomach lurched. The thought of swallowing the liquid made her ill. Something inside her had changed dramatically, as she suspected. She needed to take more blood samples, find out just what was going on with her body. Yet for the first time in her life, she found herself reluctant to study data.
What are you doing
? He sounded curious.
"Actually, I'm not sure. I thought I would drink juice, but…" She trailed off, uncertain what to say. Shea always had a firm direction; now she was seriously floundering. Pouring the juice into a glass, she stared at it helplessly.
You wilt make yourself ill. Do not touch that.
"Why would apple juice make me ill?" she asked, curious. Did he know what had happened to her?
You need blood. You are not nearly strong enough. I have scanned your body. Although I am not able to help you as of yet, I can see the need for proper nourishment. Your body cannot cope with the demands you make on it.
"I don't want to discuss what I should or shouldn't do." It bothered her the way he sounded so concerned, almost tender. His voice had a way of making her want to do anything he asked of her, including drinking the blood. She could smell it. She could hear his heart, the rush of blood through his veins. For the space of a heartbeat she allowed the sound to echo in her head, to feed the hunger gnawing at her. She bit down hard on her lower lip. She needed to put a little distance between them. His personality was extremely overpowering. Something deep within her, something wild she hadn't known was a part of her, was calling out to him. The chemistry was so strong, she ached just looking at him. Shea unbolted the cabin door, began to open it.
Stop!
The command was soft, menacing, yet she caught the hint of desperation. The door seemed to be jerked out of her hand by some unknown force and slammed closed. Shocked, she dropped the glass in her hand. It smashed on the floor. She watched the apple juice spread out in a golden stain, the pattern particularly odd, almost like the yawning jaws of a wolf.
With an effort Jacques calmed himself. It was absolute hell to be so helpless, to be trapped in a useless body. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, releasing the terror her rash action had caused.
I am sorry, Shea. You did not scan to see if there was danger near. We are hunted. You must never forget that. You must stay close to me so I can be of some use if you are threatened. I did not mean to frighten you.
She looked up at him, her green eyes bewildered. "I don't know what you mean by scanning." She said it absently, as if her mind was on something else.
Come here to me.
His voice whispered over her skin. He held out a hand to her, his eyes eloquent, hungry. He wanted something from her she dared not think about.
"Not on your life." He looked so sensual, so sexy, he took her breath away. Shea felt behind her for the wall, leaned against it for stability.
I am not asking for much. Walk to me. It is only a few short steps.
Black velvet enticed her: warmth flooded her mind.
She regarded him carefully. "You know what's wrong with me, don't you? You did something to me. I know you did. I feel it. Tell me what you've done." Her face was pale, her enormous eyes accusing.
We are one, bound together.
There was the impression of puzzlement. Jacques felt her confusion; he was a shadow in her mind. Yet he was as confused as she was. She truly didn't understand what he meant by scanning, which was ingrained in him just as breathing was. She had no idea what he meant by their being bound together, yet to him it was perfectly clear. Still, he was not certain he could explain it to her adequately. Why didn't she know these things? He was the one damaged. His was the mind shattered, his the memories scattered to the four corners of the earth.
Shea rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. "You shut that door, didn't you? You took it out of my hands and slammed it closed right from the bed. You did it with your mind, didn't you?" She could do many things, had special gifts, but this unknown man had tremendous powers she could barely comprehend. What was he? What else was he capable of? The pull between them was so strong—had she allowed something outside herself to dictate her own actions? Shea was uncertain of the answer.
At once Jacques sought to soothe her. He didn't know what was upsetting her so much—it was a natural part of his life to move objects with his mind—but his need was to overcome her distress. He sent her warmth and reassurance, comfort.
I am sorry, Shea, I was thinking only of your protection. It is difficult for me to know we are hunted while I am so helpless to protect you, that we cannot leave this place because of my weakness. You are tied to my side, and I endanger you.
He tried as hard as he could to undo the damage his thoughtlessness had caused. She deserved so much more than a half-mad lifemate. She seemed to have no real idea of what they needed to survive.
You have no conception of the monsters we are dealing with. It is always important to scan as you wake, before you leave a dwelling.
He tried to be gentle as he imparted the information. It was easy for him to read her mounting fears.
"I don't know what you mean."
Her genuine puzzlement brought out a protective urge in him so strong that it shook his narrow world. He wanted to take her into his arms and shelter her for all eternity within his soul. She looked impossibly small and fragile, the questions in her mind as easy to read as the worry on her transparent face. His dark eyes widened in sudden understanding.
You do not know the ways of our people at all, do you?
"What people? I'm an American, of Irish descent. I came here to do research on a rare blood disorder, which I seem to share with you. That's all." Unknowingly she was biting her lip, her knuckles white from clenching her fists, her body tense, waiting for his reply.
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.