A gust of wind howled, raced through the room, brought a spray of rain through the door. Jacques gently pushed Shea behind him. "The others come," he warned her.

Shea groped behind her for the wall. These people were definitely a different species. Her father had also been one of them. A part of her was intrigued and excited. If she studied them as a scientist, she would be in her element. But she was stuck in the middle of the drama instead of being able to observe it from a distance. She caught Jacques' wrist. "Let's just go far away from here, away from these people, this place."

"It is important to know as much as possible." His voice was soft and mesmerizing, deliberately tender, wrapping her in the safe cocoon of his protection. "The healer comes with the one who names himself my brother. The woman is with them." He was uneasy not knowing where the third male was. He trusted none of them completely. Somewhere deep inside himself he knew his tormentors had ripped out something precious that he could never fully regain.

Shea's hand crept up his arm. Her forehead rested against the middle of his broad back, a tender, loving gesture of solidarity. Jacques could not bear to withdraw completely from her mind, so it was easy for her to hear the echo of his thoughts when she wanted. She felt sorrow for him, sorrow for both of them. "Whatever was taken from you, Jacques, has only made you stronger. The one who healed you was a miracle-worker," she whispered softly, meaning it. "I've never seen anything to equal it. But it's really your own determination that kept you alive."

Jacques tried to hear that she was consoling him, but instead he heard the interest in her voice, the trace of envy that Gregori could heal so magically, so quickly. The Carpathian had accomplished, in one short session, what she could not. Before he could reply, tell her it was she who had saved his life, the wind was bringing rain and mist streaming through the open door.

The healer, Gregori, shimmered into view, followed quickly by Mikhail, then Raven. Jacques narrowed his gaze, glimpses of memories instantly triggered. Flying in the body of an owl, running in the forest in the body of a wolf, becoming the mist and fog. Behind him, Shea's breath caught in her throat, and she stared at their visitors, at Jacques, awed and intimidated by the display of shape-shifting, the example of power so casually wielded.

Gregori's pale silver eyes examined every inch of Jacques. "You look better. How are you feeling?" Jacques nodded slowly. "Much better. Thank you."

"You need to feed. Your woman is still pale and worn. She should be resting. If you like, I could heal her bruises." Gregori made the offer in his casual, indifferent way. His voice was so compelling, so beautiful, it was nearly impossible to deny him anything. There was a purity in his voice, a whisper of black velvet. He never raised his tone or appeared anything but calm and unruffled.

Shea's heart gave a leap, then settled into a hard, rhythmic pounding. She found herself listening intently, wanting him to go on speaking, wanting to do whatever he asked. Mentally, she shook her head. Gregori's abilities intrigued her, but he was far too powerful. He had not used any kind of mental enhancement, no compulsion, no hypnotic suggestions. His voice was a weapon in itself. She sensed he was the most dangerous Carpathian in the room. She had not been in such close proximity with so many people in a very long time. She needed to be alone with Jacques, to give herself time to adjust.

"We thank you for the offer, healer, but Shea is unused to our ways." Jacques couldn't remember most of them himself. He was as uneasy in the presence of the Carpathians as Shea. His black eyes glittered like ice, caught and trapped the reflection of a lightning whip as it sizzled across the dark sky. "The other male is not with you."

"Byron," Mikhail supplied. "He has been a good friend to you for centuries. He is aware that you completed the ritual and this woman is your true lifemate. Search your mind, Jacques. Remember how difficult this time is on our unattached males."

Shea's face went crimson under the unearthly paleness. The reference to the ritual had to mean they were aware Jacques had made love to her. The lack of privacy disturbed her immensely. She went to move around Jacques, strongly objecting to the this woman label. She did have a name. She was a person. She had a feeling they all thought her the hysterical type. She certainly hadn't managed to show them her normal calm self.

Jacques stepped backward and his arm swept behind him to pin her against the wall. He never took his eyes from the trio before them. He knew he was unstable, still fighting to hold on to reason when his every instinct was to attack. He trusted none of them and would not allow Shea to be put in any danger.

Shea retaliated with a hard pinch. She was not going to cower behind her wild man like some seventeenth-century heroine fainting with the vapors. So she was surrounded by a few vampires. Big deal.

Carpathians.

Jacques sounded amused.

If you laugh at me, Jacques, I might find another wooden stake and come after you myself,

she warned him silently. "Well, for heaven's sake." Shea sounded exasperated as she addressed the group. "We're all civilized, aren't we?" She shoved at Jacques' broad back. "Aren't we?"

"Absolutely." Raven stepped forward, ignoring Mikhail's restraining hand. "At least the women are. The men around here haven't quite graduated from the swinging-through-trees stage yet."

"I owe you an apology for last night, Miss O'Halloran," Mikhail said with far too much Old World charm. "When I saw you crouched over my brother, I thought..."

Raven snorted. "He didn't think, he reacted. He really is a great man, but overprotective with the people he loves." There was a wealth of love in her teasing tone. "Honestly, Jacques, you can't keep her prisoner, locked up like some nun in a convent."

Shea was mortified.

Jacques, move! You're embarrassing me.

With great reluctance Jacques stepped aside. Shea could feel the instant tension in the room, the red haze building in Jacques' mind. To reassure him, she took his hand, kept her mind firmly linked to his. The moment she was exposed to the others, she could feel their eyes examining every inch of her.

Raven glanced at Gregori, clearly worried.

Self-consciously, Shea shoved at her hair. She hadn't even looked at herself in the mirror. Jacques tightened his hold on her hand.

Do not! You are beautiful as you are. They have no right to judge you in any way.

"Jacques," Gregori said softly, "your woman needs to feed, to heal. You must allow me to help her."

Shea's chin went up, eyes flashing green fire. "I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. He doesn't allow me to do or not do anything. Thanks for the offer, but I'll heal with time."

"You'll get used to them," Raven said hastily. "They're really big on women's health. It would help you, Shea - may I call you Shea?" Raven smiled when Shea nodded. "We'd be happy to answer any of your questions. It would be nice to get to know you. After all, we are in-laws of sorts," she pointed out.

The rush of fear-based adrenaline in Shea's body at that simple observation of her commitment to Jacques triggered an aggressive reaction in Jacques. Lightning slashed across the sky, sizzled and danced, hit the ground in thunderous fury. The wind hurtled through the cabin, lashed at the windows and walls. A low, ominous growl rumbled in Jacques' throat. Shea felt the beast in him rising, felt him welcome it, reach for it with murderous intent. She whirled to face him, slammed her palms flat on his chest, and shoved him as hard as she could, walking him backward toward a far comer.

You will not do this, Jacques. I need you sane right now. I'm doing my best to hold it together, but if there's a fight, I'll go crazy, I swear it. Please help me now. Please.

Therewere tears in her mind, a vulnerability Jacques had never seen in her.

Jacques' arms swept around her, cradling her close as he struggled to regain control. Her distress seemed to give him added strength. He lifted his head, black eyes moving warily over the two males. Mikhail and Gregori looked perfectly at ease, yet Jacques sensed their alertness. He forced himself to smile, then shrug casually. "I am afraid my mind has not healed as my body has. You will have to have patience with me. Please enter our home as our guests." The formal words came out of nowhere.

Mikhail swung the door closed. "Thank you, Jacques. We want only to help you and your lifemate." He deliberately seated himself, placing himself in a vulnerable position. Raven perched comfortably on the arm of his chair. Gregori moved across the room with a deceptively lazy stride. He walked with fluid grace, an animal sensuality, but Jacques was well aware that the healer was subtly placing his body between the couple and Jacques.

Gregori. The ancient one. The dark one.

The words shimmered in his mind. Gregori was a very dangerous man. "I remember little of my past," he admitted softly. "Perhaps it would be better for all of us if Shea and I kept to ourselves. I am well aware I am unstable, and I would not want anyone to get hurt."

Shea turned in his arms to face the Carpathians. "We appreciate your help. It's just that this is all so new to both of us."

Gregori's silver eyes studied her pale face, seeming to look right through her into her soul. "You are a doctor?"

Shea shivered. The healer's voice was incredibly compelling. The man had far too much power. "Yes, I'm a surgeon."

A smile curved the healer's sensual mouth. He was charismatic, but Shea was well aware that his silver eyes had not warmed in the least. They were cool and watchful. "You are very good. Carpathians do not respond well to human healing. Jacques was healing despite the odds against it. We are all indebted to you."

"You were able to do in an hour what several days of my care could not accomplish." In spite of herself there was a note of admiration in her voice.

"How is it you found Jacques when we could not?" Again Gregori's voice was casual, but she sensed the question was a trap.

Her chin lifted, her green eyes defiant. "Seven years ago, while studying, I was overcome with pain. Pain there was no medical explanation for. The agony lasted for hours. From that night on, I had dreams of a man tortured, in pain, calling to me."

"Where were you?" Gregori questioned.

"In the United States." Shea swept her fingers through her hair, found her hand was trembling, and put it behind her back. Those glittering pale eyes were disconcerting. They seemed to see right into her soul, see every mistake she had ever made. "I know it sounds bizarre, but it's true. I had no idea there really was a man, that he was suffering." Guilt washed over her. "I should have found him sooner, but I didn't believe..." She trailed off, tears welling up.

Do not do this, my love,

Jacques commanded, his arms tightening protectively.

They have no right to judge you. None of them came for me. You did, across an ocean. And I did not treat you gently.

He touched the warmth of his mouth to her bruised throat. "Yet you returned to me in spite of the way I attacked you." He said the last aloud deliberately, a warning to the Carpathians to back off from questioning her.

"You must have been terrified," Raven said softly.

Shea nodded and sent Jacques a small smile. "He was definitely something I had never encountered in my practice." She was striving for normalcy in a world that was turned upside down.

"You are young to be a doctor," Mikhail observed.

Shea made herself really look at him for the first time. Jacques and Mikhail shared the same powerful build, the thick mane of hair, the ice-black eyes. They both carried the hard edge of authority, self-confidence, and the trace of arrogance that came with it. Jacques' finely chiseled features were more worn from his ordeal. "You look young to be centuries old," she countered, remembering the feel of his fingers on her throat.

Mikhail acknowledged her with a slight grin and a nod.

Beside her, Jacques fought down the snarling beast the memory of Mikhail's attack triggered. Shea ignored him. "A woman named Noelle had a child, a son, with a man named Rand. Do you know where the boy is? He would be twenty-six now," she asked.

Mikhail's features stilled, became a mask. A slow hiss escaped, and Jacques instinctively edged around Shea so that she was behind him.

Be very careful, Mikhail, Gregoriwarned.

"Noelle was our sister," Mikhail stated softly, "murdered just weeks after the child was born." Shea nodded. The information confirmed what Jacques had already told her. "And the child?"

I do not like this, Gregori. Why would she wish to know of Noelle 's child? Humans murdered her. They have a network with far-reaching tentacles. Perhaps she is a part of it after all.

Mikhail's voice shimmered in Gregori's mind.

Jacques would know.

Gregori was certain.

Maybe not. His mind is shattered. He would know. She could not hide it. You fear for your brother. You do not look at her with your eyes and mind open. There is much sorrow, tragedy in her eyes. She is tied to a man she does not know, a man who is extremely dangerous, one who has hurt her on more than one occasion. She is highly intelligent, Mikhail; she knows what she has become, and she is struggling to accept it. This woman is no assassin.

Mikhail inclined his head at his oldest friend's assessment. "Noelle's son was murdered seven years ago, probably by the same assassins who tortured my brother."

If it was possible for Shea to grow any paler, she did. Her body swayed slightly; and Jacques gathered her close. The boy had been his nephew, but Jacques had no memory of the child or the man, so the pain he felt was Shea's. Her half-brother, her only chance at a family.

I am your family, Jacques comforted her gently, his chin rubbing lovingly over the top of her head.

He was the young man in the second photograph Wallace and Smith showed me. I know he was.

Shea laid her head wearily against his chest.

I felt such wrenching pain when I saw the photograph. I am sorry, Shea. So much has happened. You need time to absorb all this.

Puzzled by her obvious distress, Mikhail glanced at Gregori, who shrugged his broad shoulders rather elegantly.

"What of Rand, his father?" Jacques voiced the question for Shea, although the name sent pain splintering through his head, evoked a black, empty hole where memory should have been.

"Rand went to ground for a quarter of a century. He rose last year, but he keeps to himself. He sleeps most of the time," Mikhail answered.

Shea's fingers curled in Jacques'. "He did not raise his own son?"

When Mikhail shook his head, Shea swallowed the hard knot of protest blocking her throat and glanced accusingly at Jacques.

Children and the women who live with them seem to be left alone rather easily by your race. We are not Rand and Maggie.

Jacques stated it firmly.

Shea bit her lip as she studied Mikhail. "What does 'go to ground' mean?"

"Carpathians rejuvenate in the soil," Gregori explained, watching her closely. "The human sleep does not allow quick healing or real rest. We may go through human practices - showering, dressing, all the little habits to protect what we are, although there is no real need - but we sleep the sleep of Carpathians. The earth heals and protects us during our most vulnerable hours when the sun is high."

Shea was shaking her head in denial, a hand going to her throat in a curiously defenseless gesture. Her eyes met Jacques in helpless fear.

I cannot. You know I cannot. It is all right. Neither would I welcome another burial.

Andit was true. Jacques had begun to suffocate, to associate the deep earth with pain and torment.

I would not force such a decision on you.

Raven settled against Mikhail's shoulder. "I sleep above ground in a very comfortable bed. Well, the bedroom is situated below ground, but it's a beautiful room. You'll have to come see it sometime. I don't like to sleep in the ground. I was human, Shea, like you. If feels too much like being buried alive."

"Rand is my father," Shea admitted suddenly.

There was a stark silence in the room. Even the wind stopped, as if nature itself was holding its breath. Mikhail moved then, seemed to flow from the chair, his power unmistakable. His black eyes covered every inch of her.

Gregori? If this is true, Mikhail, Rand has done what was thought impossible. Unless...

Mikhail caught the thought. Gregori suspected that Shea's mother was Rand's true lifemate. "What you are saying is of tremendous importance to our race, Shea. Your mother is human?"

"Was. My mother committed suicide eight years ago. She couldn't face life without Rand." Her chin lifted defiantly. "She was so obsessed with him, she didn't have anything left over for her child." She said it matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't suffered, hadn't been alone all her life.

"Did he convert her?" Mikhail asked, furious at the unknown woman for neglecting her child, a female child at that. At the very least the woman should have brought the baby to the Carpathians to raise. "Was she Carpathian?"

"No, she wasn't like you, not even like me. She was definitely human. She was beautiful, Irish, and completely withdrawn from the real world most of the time. I knew about Rand and Noelle through my mother's diary."

"Did your mother have any psychic talent?" Gregori asked thoughtfully.

Raven glanced up at Mikhail. She had psychic ability. Shea's answer was extremely important to the future of their race. She would provide the proof of what they had long suspected, long hoped.

Shea's teeth bit at her lip. "She knew things before they happened. She would know the phone was going to ring or that someone was about to stop by. You have to understand, though, she rarely spoke. She would forget about me for days, even weeks at a time, so I didn't know much about her. She didn't exactly share lots of information with me."

"But you are certain Rand is your father?" Mikhail persisted.

"When I was born, my blood caused quite a stir in the medical community. In my mother's diary she wrote that Rand was my father and that he had a strange blood disorder. She thought I had inherited it. She took me to Ireland, hid me, because the doctors and scientists frightened her with their persistent questions. She was certain Rand was dead."

Mikhail and Gregori exchanged a look. Their race was dying out. The last female child to be born had been Noelle some five hundred years earlier. The men were choosing to end their existence or turning vampire without a lifemate. Mikhail and Gregori had long suspected that a handful of human women, those with true psychic talent, had the ability to become a lifemate as Raven had. There had never before been an instance of a child born half-human, half-Carpathian. The only explanation possible was that Shea's mother had been Rand's true lifemate. Everyone had known he did not have real feelings for Noelle. Yet Rand had not turned Shea's mother. No Carpathian woman would have allowed her child to grow up alone as Shea's mother had. Why hadn't Rand said anything? Their people would have cherished a child.

Rand did not mention suicide when he awakened, Gregori mused. He stays to himself but that is not unusual.

"Is it possible for us to see this diary?" Mikhail asked Shea gently. Shea shook her head sadly. "I was being hunted. I had to destroy it."

"Your life must have been difficult, with no one to guide you," Gregori said quietly. "You are not without your own unique capability. You are a true healer."

"I studied many years." She sent him a small smile. "I had plenty of time to apply myself."

"You were born a healer," he corrected. "It is a rare gift." Gregori's silver eyes dwelt on her slender figure. "Jacques." His voice dropped even lower so that the sound seemed to seep into one's bloodstream and warm it like a good brandy. "She is growing weaker. Her body trembles. I know that you do not fully understand her importance to our entire race, but I know your instincts are strong and intact. You are her lifemate, sworn to her protection and care."

Shea's hand gripped Jacques' tightly. "Don't listen to him. What we choose to do has nothing to do with any of them."

"Trust me, love, I would never allow him to harm you," Jacques said softly in reassurance. "He is only concerned that you are so weak."

"I am a healer, like you, Shea." Gregori seemed to glide forward. His body flowed without a hint of movement or threat. He was just suddenly closer. "I would never hurt a woman. I am Carpathian. A male seeks only to protect and care for our women." His hand reached out to her neck. The touch of his fingers was astonishing. Light. Heat. A tingling sensation. "You must feed, Shea." The voice was around her, in her, working at her will. "Jacques needs you strong to see him through what lies ahead. Our people need you. My blood is ancient and powerful. It will serve you, heal you, strengthen both of you."

"No! Jacques, no. Tell him no." For some reason she was alarmed at the idea.

"I will feed her," Jacques objected quietly, his voice all the more menacing because of its hush.

The pale eyes slid over him. "You need to conserve your strength to heal your own body. Mikhail will supply you with what you need. There was a time, not so long ago, when you gave freely to your brother."

Jacques carefully inspected Shea. Her skin was so pale, she looked translucent. The bruises on her throat, stark smudges; had not healed. She looked tired, her body far too slender. Gregori was right; she was trembling. Why had he not seen her weakness? He certainly had contributed to it.

Hisblood is very pure, Shea. It is what aided my healing so quickly. I am not happy with another male seeing to your needs, but he is our healer. I want you to do as he says. I won't, Jacques.

Shea shook her head adamantly.

I want to go right now. You promised me we could go. This must be done, Shea. He is right. You grow weaker every day. We don't need them to help us.

She held out a hand to stop Gregori's advance. "I know you're trying to help us, but I'm not ready for this yet. I need to figure things out for myself and get used to what I have to do to survive. Surely that's not such an unreasonable thing." Deliberately her fingers tangled with Jacques', linking them together. She needed him on her side, to understand she needed time.

"To give you time to slowly die from lack of care? Your health has been neglected for some time. You are a doctor - you know that is so. You made up your mind your life span would be very short. That cannot be," Gregori said softly. His voice was mesmerizing, hypnotic. "Our women are our only hope. We cannot lose you."

Shea could feel Jacques' swift denial of the possibility of such a thing. Violence swirled close to the surface, but he man aged to control it. His black eyes centered on her green ones.

I know what he says is true. Shea. I have felt your acceptance of your death on more than one occasion. You were willing to trade your life for mine. That's different, and you know it,

she said desperately. His hands were on her, trapping her to him.

Don't do this, Jacques. Let me do this in my own time. Shea.

Heached with wanting to do as she asked him. She could feel it in his mind, the need to give her whatever would make her happy, yet at the same time the idea that she could be slipping away from him terrified him. His every instinct insisted he do as the healer suggested and ensure that she was brought to full strength. He fought to stay in control, to not allow his animal instincts to make the decision.

Please, little red hair, just do this so we can both be strong. Once it is done, we will be able to be on our own together and make our own decisions. I'm not ready, Jacques. Try to understand. I need time to comprehend what's happening to me. I need to feel in control. I'm not going to die. I've accepted that whatever you are, whatever my father is, I have become wholly. I know that you somehow were able to bind us together. And I'm trying to deal with all that in my own time and way. I am attempting to do what is right for you. How can you know what's right for me? You decided for me. You took over my life without my knowledge or consent. You had no right to do that, Jacques. No, I did not, headmitted.

I would like to think that if I was not what I have become, I would have courted you as I should, that I could have earned your love and loyalty. I would hope I was not the type of man to force my will on you. This is no different, Jacques. Can't you see that?

"She is so weak, Jacques, and so much has happened so quickly." Gregori's velvet voice was seductive. "She cannot make a rational decision. How will you aid her? If you try to supply her with blood, you will be unable to adequately protect her. She needs to be healed. You are her lifemate, Jacques. Reach inside yourself, deep within you. These things were imprinted on you before your birth. The male can do no other than to see to his lifemate's health."

Mikhail, Ravenobjected.

She's being pushed too far. Don't allow this. She is too important to all of us. We need her at full strength, so she can control Jacques while we wait for his mind to fully heal. None of us can do so. We do not wish to be forced to destroy him. In the end she would choose to follow him, and we would lose her also. You can see her first thought is for Jacques and not for herself. She would follow him for certain. We have to do this, Raven. I am sorry it distresses you.

Jacques bent his head to find Shea's temple with warmth and tenderness. His arms closed around her, pulled her resisting body in close to his hard frame. "Shea, I believe the healer is right in this."

I can't believe you would betray me like this. You're siding with them. Why, Jacques? You owe me more respect than this. Because without you, I am far too dangerous to the world. Because what I feel for you goes far beyond the human emotion of love.

Jacques tipped her chin up and forced her green eyes to meet his black ones. At once she could feel his will bending hers to do his bidding. She was falling forward into the depths of his eyes. His voice was murmuring in her head, a low command she tried hard to resist.

You will accept what the healer offers.

Gregori was already moving forward, his soft voice adding to the power of Jacques'. He bit carefully into his wrist and held it to Shea's mouth. The scent was overpowering, triggering the terrible hunger and need in her. Jacques' palm was pressing the back of her head, forcing her toward the liquid of life, the healing ancient blood that would pour power and strength into her body.

"She is strong-willed, Jacques," Gregori counseled softly. Shea was fighting the compulsion to feed. The rich blood, so potent, flowing into her starving body, did not weaken her resistance, it merely made her stronger. Gregori could see that Jacques was wavering as he watched Shea fight the compulsion. Jacques' mind might be fragmented, he might even be mad at times, but his feelings for Shea were strong and healthy. The healer purposely dropped his voice another octave, using the purity of his tone to persuade Jacques. "Our women are few, the only hope for our people. The one sure way to wipe out our people is to murder our women. They must be guarded at all times. The assassins have returned to our land. The very soil groans under their boots."

"Shea has seen them." Jacques watched warily as Mikhail approached, still not trusting himself with the man who had come so close to strangling Shea. "They have nearly caught her twice."

"Feed, Jacques. I offer my life freely to you as you have so many times done for me." Mikhail slashed his wrist and held it out to his brother.

The moment the richness spilled into his mouth, the taste and surge of power brought a rush of fragments of memories. Mikhail laughing, pushing Jacques from a tree branch playfully. Mikhail's body crouched low, protectively, in front of his as a vampire with brown-stained teeth began to grow long, dagger-like nails. Mikhail holding Raven's limp body, a river of blood, the earth and sky erupting all around them while Mikhail looked up at Jacques with the hopeless resolve to join his lifemate in her fate.

Jacques' eyes jumped to Mikhail's face, examined every inch of it. This man was a leader, a dangerous, powerful predator who had skillfully steered their dying race through centuries of pitfalls. One whom such as Gregori chose to follow. Something stirred inside Jacques, the need to protect this man, to shield him.

Mikhail.

Mikhail's head jerked up. He heard his name echo clearly in his head. The path had been there for one heartbeat, familiar and strong; then just as quickly it was lost.

Jacques was so distracted by the pieces of memories floating in his mind, his hold on Shea slipped. Shea felt his inattention and gathered herself, waiting, waiting. The moment the compulsion lifted, she wrenched her head from Gregori's wrist and leapt away. Jerking the heavy door open, Shea fled into the fury of the storm.

The air in the cabin stilled, thickened with a kind of malevolent darkness. Jacques' features were a granite mask, his black eyes flat and hard. He took one last swallow of the powerful liquid, carefully closed the wound, and lifted his head. "I thank you for your assistance, but I must ask you to leave. Perhaps tomorrow night you will try your hand at mending my mind, healer." His gaze was on the night, a dark purpose creeping into his tone.

"Jacques..." Raven ventured hesitantly. This stranger was more beast than man, not the gentle brother-in-law she had known. At one time, Jacques had been filled with lazy amusement, with laughter and boyish pranks. Now he was a being without mercy, dangerous, insane perhaps.

Mikhail silently pulled her from the cabin, his body already beginning to lose form.

They have to work it out themselves, my love. He seems so dangerous. He cannot harm his lifemate.

Mikhailtried valiantly to believe it. There was a darkness in Jacques, a truly frightening void none of them could breach.

Gregori hesitated in the doorway. "Take precautions when you sleep, Jacques. We are hunted." He, too, shimmered, dissolved, and streamed into the night.

Gregori, will he harm her?

Inspite of his reassurance to Raven, Mikhail felt he couldn't take any chances with Shea's health. If anyone could assess the damage to Jacques' mind, it was the healer.

He thinks to punish her impetuous behavior, Gregorireplied softly, but I can feel his mind turning to hers, taking in her overwhelming emotions. He tries to be angry with her, but it will not stay in his mind.

The blood from the ancients had given Jacques his full strength. He felt his immense power, savored it once again. On bare feet he padded across the room to the door and inhaled deeply. Despite the storm, he knew exactly where Shea was. He was in her mind at all times, never separated. He could feel her wild emotions, her panic and desperation, her need to escape the mountains, the Carpathians. To escape him.

You will return to me, Shea.

Itwas a clear order, and he hoped she would obey him, hoped he would not have to force her.

Shea leapt over a rotting log and stopped abruptly under the canopy of a huge tree. The command was stark, impressive in its absence of emotion. She recognized anger in herself. It was new to her. Brand new. She couldn't remember being angry before. Shea was usually careful not to feel anything at all. She preferred to analyze things.

Please try to understand, Jacques. I won't be a part of this. I will not argue long distance with you. Come to me now.

For strength Shea clutched at an overhead tree branch. Jacques' lack of inflection frightened her more than his anger could have. She sensed a power in him, a total confidence.

I won't come back. I can't. Just live your life, Jacques. You have it back now.

If Jacques had really felt no emotion in centuries, then he would be struggling just as she was to stay in control. Everything seemed so intense. She wanted the calm, tranquil world she understood, where her brain ruled and emotions could be pushed aside.

You cannot possibly win this battle, Shea.

Itwas a warning, nothing less. The tone was devoid of any feeling whatsoever.

Why does it have to be a battle? You need to accept my decision. I have the right to leave. Come to me, Shea.

There was iron strength in his command. This time he exerted a subtle but frightening pressure.

Shea pressed both hands to her head.

Stop it! You can't force me. Of course I can.

Even as the words echoed in his mind, he realized they were true. He could do almost anything. He stepped off the porch into the driving rain and stretched his muscles lazily, reveling in their response. He was truly alive again. He could easily bring her to him, bend her will to his. She needed to learn that Carpathian women were under their lifemate's protection at all times. She never took precautions, never scanned her surroundings; she never took care for her own protection.

Was that the kind of man he had become? Had he always been so? Someone willing to force his will on the one person who cared for him, risked her life for him? Was it so much to ask that he give her time to adjust? Jacques rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

She was so fragile, so vulnerable. Shea could brave the wildest river or highest mountain. She had the strength to handle any crisis, but not her own emotions. His competent little redhead was terrified of her feelings for him. Her childhood had been a nightmare. He could not allow her life with him to become the same thing.

Jacques actually felt the curious melting in the region of his heart, the surge of heat that rushed through his bloodstream.

Little one, why do you persist in fighting me?

His voice, whispering so softly in her mind, was filled with tenderness.

Do you know what will happen to you without me?

Her entire being responded to the velvet caress of his voice, the rising tide of love. If he had continued to argue and chastise, she would have had a chance, but the moment he spoke in that tender, caressing way, she was lost. At once she felt overwhelming despair. She could never be free of him, never.

Is that such a terrible fate, love?

Hisvoice turned her heart over.

To be with me?

This time there was a single thread of hurt.

AmI truly such a monster then? I don't know how to be with you. I feel trapped, like I can't move or think.

Shea pressed her fingers to her temple, her back to the tree.

Idon't want to need you. I don't want to be with any of them.

He was moving steadily toward her, not fast, not slow. The rain drove down on his broad shoulders, glistened off his back. The coolness only added to the gathering heat in his body. She seemed small and defenseless. With each step into the night, with the soil beneath his feet, and the ancient's blood flowing in his veins, his strength grew.

I need you just to breathe, Shea,

headmitted starkly.

Iam sorry that terrifies you. I wish that I had more control, but I cannot be alone like that, not ever again. I try to keep my presence in you but a shadow. Perhaps with time I can let go a bit. Being with me terrifies you, but being without you terrifies me.

A note of amusement crept in.

We are so compatible.

Shea knew he was coming toward her; she could tell by the way her heart pounded in anticipation, the way her body came alive. She buried her face in the crook of her arm, hanging on grimly to the branch above her.

You don't know me, Jacques. I am in you. I know you. You are afraid of me, of what I can do. You are afraid of my instability, my power. You fear what I am and what you have become. Yet you are strong and determined that no harm shall come to me. You know your brain is excited at the possibilities of the existence of our race.

His laughter was soft and inviting.

I am your lifemate, bound to treasure you, cherish and protect you. Always see to your happiness. And you have the same abilities as I. Your first thought was to force me back to you, shea ccused him.

Shea, my love, you never think to scan, never check for danger. And you cannot exist without me. It is my duty and my right to protect you. What happens to me if you die? What happens to you if I die?

She knew the answer; she had watched her mother's empty life.

This is obsession.

She said the words aloud so that the wind could carry them through the mountains. "I won't be like her." She lifted her face to the driving rain so that the drops ran down her face like tears. It was too late. She couldn't survive without Jacques. Wasn't she just like her mother after all?

He came out of the night so beautifully male that he took her breath away. His black eyes moved over her possessively, curiously predatory.

Shea shook her head. "I'm not strong enough, Jacques." The wind whipped at her, nearly drove her sideways.

"Choose life for us, Shea, for our children. I will not be easy to live with, but I swear to you, no one could love you more. I will do anything to make you happy."

"Don't you see? You can't make another person happy. I'm the only one who can do that for myself. And I can't do this."

"You are just afraid. We both have some problems, Shea. You fear the intimacy and I lack of it. It is simply a matter of meeting somewhere in the middle."

His voice was so soft, she felt it on her very skin, as if his fingertips were skimming over satin in the lightest caress. Jacques stepped closer, beneath the tree's canopy, his dark eyes intense. "Choose me now, Shea. Need me. Want me. Love me. Choose life for us."

"It shouldn't be like this."

"We are not human. We are Carpathian, of the earth. We command the wind and the rain. The animals are our brethren. We can run with the wolf, soar with the owl, and become one with the rain itself. We are not human, Shea. We do not feed on flesh as humans do, and we do not love as humans do. We are different."

"We are hunted all the time."

"And we hunt. It is the cycle of life. Shea, look at me."