Catching her slender hips in his large hands, Jacques paused for a moment, marveling at the perfection of a woman’s body, Shea’s body. Her bottom was round and firm, well-muscled and inviting. “You are so beautiful, Shea, unbelievably beautiful.” He pushed against her, prolonging the moment of entrance, watching the rain slide down her pale satin skin to meet the hard length of him.
“Jacques!” Shea pushed back against him excitedly, her body soft and yielding, wet and welcoming.
He drove into the tight, hot, velvet sheath so perfectly fitted to his body. The feel of her was ecstasy all over again, an experience he would never get enough of. Jacques thrust forward, hard and deep, wanting to fill her completely, needing to hear her soft, keening cries. It drove him wild, those little sounds coming from her throat, the way her body pushed back to meet his. The rain seemed a part of it all, surrounding them like a veil, sliding over their hot bodies, sensitizing their skin. He felt her around him, a part of him, one body, truly together, with the earth moving around them and the heavens ripped apart by their passion. He could feel every muscle in his body taut and ready, waiting, waiting, the perfect moment with her body clenching around his, taking his seed from him as he surged into her again and again, a torrent of color and beauty and miraculous pleasure. He felt her open to him, her mind and heart and soul, softly feminine, exquisitely woman, all his. Her pleasure matched his own beat for beat, shudder for shudder. He had to hold her to keep himself on his feet, and they collapsed together into the soaked vegetation.
Holding each other, the rain cooling their bodies, they laughed like children. “I expected steam this time,” Jacques said, crushing her to him.
“Can you do that?” Shea fit the back of her head into the niche of his sternum. One hand idly slid over the heavy muscles of his chest.
“Make us so hot we turn the rain to steam?” He grinned boyishly down at her, for the first time so carefree that he forgot for a moment the torment he had suffered. She made him invincible. She made him vulnerable. Most of all, she made him alive.
“No, really—what they did, those others. They were like fog or mist. Can you really do that?” Shea persisted. “I mean, you said you could, but I thought maybe you were delusional.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Delusional?” Jacques flashed a cocky grin, held out his arm, and watched as fur rippled along the length of it, as the fingers curved and extended into claws. He had to make a grab for Shea as she scrambled away from him, her eyes enormous. Jacques was careful not to hurt her with his strength.
“Stop laughing at me, you brute. That’s not exactly normal.” A slow smile was beginning to curve her soft mouth. She couldn’t help but be happy for the innocent joy he found in each piece of information that came to him, each new memory of his gifts.
“It is normal for us, love. We can shape-shift whenever we like.”
She made a face. “You mean all those hideous stories are true? Rats and bats and slimy worm things?”
“Now, why would I want to be a slimy worm thing?” He was openly laughing. The sound startled him; he couldn’t remember laughing aloud.
“Very funny, Jacques. I’m so glad you find this amusing. Those people actually formed themselves out of fog, like something in a movie.” She gave a punch to his arm for emphasis. “Explain it.”
“Shape-shifting is easy once you are strong. When I said we run with the wolf, I meant it literally. We run with the pack. We can fly with the owl and become the air.” He pushed back the wet hair framing her face. “Why is it you are not cold?”
Shea sat up, astonished at the notion. She wasn’t cold, not really. She became cold when she thought about it, but she hadn’t been. “Why wasn’t I?”
“Carpathians regulate their body temperature naturally. Illusion is also an easy thing to master. Clothes do not have to be bought unless we wish it. Most of the time we are very careful to follow human ways.” He kissed the top of her head. “You can pretend to be cold if that will make you feel better.”
“I don’t like the idea of staying here, Jacques, staying so close to the others. I feel like I can’t breathe. But maybe it’s only because I don’t exactly see people turning into fog every day. Maybe we should stay a little longer and learn a few things from them.”
“I can teach you how to shape-shift.” He sounded annoyed.
Shea nipped his throat. “I definitely do not want to learn how to shape-shift. I’m still on square one, learning to share my life and my body with another person. But if I ever do want to be a rat or something like that, I promise only you will teach me. I’m talking about other things, like how the healer made you well so quickly.”
Jacques swallowed his protest quickly. She actually sounded excited, not scared. He didn’t like the idea of another man near her, another man spending time with her. But she was a healer, and Gregori could teach her much. He wanted her to be happy.
He reached for his memories. Gregori. The dark one.Ancient and powerful. Solitary. “He is always alone.” Carpathians whispered of his power, rarely used his name or spoke it aloud. “The healer always roams the earth seeking knowledge. He does not stay among our kind. There is none more dangerous, yet none more dedicated to preserving our race. Mikhail is his friend. They understand and respect one another.”
Shea burrowed closer to Jacques’ body, a protection from the storm. “I can’t believe you’re remembering all of this. It’s amazing, Jacques. Does your head ache?”
He rubbed his forehead even as he shook his head to deny it. The truth was, the pain was splintering and cracking the inside of his mind. For her, he could endure anything. “His one apprentice was only half a century younger than Gregori and Mikhail. He was different even in appearance. A loner like Gregori. He, too, searched for knowledge. He spoke most languages like a native and served as a soldier in many different armies. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the same heavy muscles Gregori has. His hair was long and blond, very rare among our people. His eyes were gold, pure gold. Gregori allowed him to learn the art of healing from him. They were seen together on and off over a number of years all over the world.”
“Who is he? Is he still alive?” Shea was intrigued.
“He is named Aidan, and he has a twin. He often hunted with us.” His head was throbbing and threatening to explode if he continued.
“Hunted what?” Shea held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
“Beautiful women, little one, and I was the one who found you after all.” His white teeth gleamed at her, a definite leer.
“Don’t put me off like that.” She had already taken advantage, sliding easily into his mind and picking out the pictures of danger and revulsion. Fear even. Not so much of their adversary, but of themselves turning into the very thing they sought to destroy.
Jacques, unprepared for her entrance into his mind, had been confident he could keep the grimmer side of their existence watered down for her. Shea had always been reluctant to enter his mind; it hadn’t occurred to him that she would do so whenever she wanted.
His expression was so rueful that Shea burst out laughing. “Where I grew up, that’s called being caught with your pants down.”
He looked down at his body, glistening with the rain. His grin was self-mocking, his black eyes amused. “Literally.”
“So where is Aidan now? Was he killed?”
Jacques’ mind refused to relinquish the information at first. He had to go over and over the pieces to the puzzle, looking for an answer. Because it was hurting him, Shea rubbed lovingly at his arm. “Don’t try anymore.”
“The United States. The last I remember, he and his people went to the States to control the vampire problems there. Vampires no longer stay here in the mountains where they are easily hunted. If Aidan is still alive, or if he has not turned”—he frowned over the possibility—”then he must still remain there, far from our land.”