Shea closed her eyes, unable to face where her thoughts were going. Jacques could not be the one to take Rand’s life. He just couldn’t. Warmth flooded her mind, and his arm tightened protectively around her. There is no need for me to hunt Rand should he prove to be the vampire preying on our people. The others can take care of it. We can go far from this place if that is your desire, my love.
If Rand was the vampire, the betrayer, Jacques would have more reason than anyone to want to ruthlessly destroy him. Yet she could not bear the idea. Thank you, Jacques. I don’t want you to be the one to take his life if it really comes to that.
Let us go to Byron, and I will do as I promised. Then we will find a place to rest.
Shea nodded, her head brushing his chest. She could hear the reassuring beat of his heart, feel the heat in his body rising to meet hers. He was solid and real, and she owed it to both of them to take things slowly and make rational decisions. Right at this moment, Shea was not certain she was capable of such a thing. Her brilliant brain seemed to be malfunctioning lately.
“We go to Byron, healer—do you follow?” Jacques asked.
Gregori reluctantly left Raven to Mikhail. A woman could not be possibly be claimed before her eighteenth birthday.
Every moment of the healer’s existence would be an endurance test, living in hell until the child came of age. He would hunt and feed and resist the kill unless he was called on to dispense justice. That would be the most dangerous of all times, walking away from the power of taking a life. And somewhere, close by, Rand was waiting.
As Gregori turned to follow Jacques and Shea, Mikhail stopped him. “Could the humans have found some kind of chemical to cloak their presence from us? If they have done so, we are all in grave danger, and we must move to meet this new threat.”
“Anything is possible, but it is more likely the vampire is using a shadow spell. It is ancient and all but forgotten. I came across it in the lost book of Shallong. He buried it with his evil tokens in the mountain of souls. I thought no other had dared to travel there.” Gregori glanced after Shea to assure himself she was out of hearing.
“It is entirely possible,” Gregori continued, “even probable, that Rand rose more then seven years ago, found Shea’s mother already dead, and turned. In his hatred he would blame you and Jacques. He could have studied the ancient arts and returned to lead Slovensky and his nephew to kill our people seven years ago. None of us knew he had risen, so he was never a suspect. Jacques thought he knew the betrayer, was close to him at one time. Rand was his family through Noelle.”
“Do you believe Rand would have his own son tortured, mutilated?”
“Noelle’s son, Mikhail. If Rand is as twisted as I suspect, he was the one who aided the humans in their murders seven years ago. We are all in danger, particularly Jacques. The only one who might escape death is Shea, and she would suffer greatly.”
“He knows we will hunt him now. He will try to run.”
Gregori shook his head. “No, he has worked too hard for revenge. This is hatred, Mikhail. He lives to kill, and we are the ones he must seek. He will stay here and continue to try to lure Shea to him.”
“You will warn Jacques.”
“There is no need. Jacques knows. He will keep Shea close to him. Jacques is dangerous, Mikhail. You persist in thinking him the younger brother you need to protect. He has grown to great power. Rand will underestimate him. He does not recognize the monster he himself created.”
“I am not certain I like you referring to my brother as a monster.” There was a trace of humor in Mikhail’s voice.
“You should hear what I call you behind your back,” Gregori said, even as his arms spread to accommodate the wings forming.
Mikhail’s laughter echoed as the bird soared into the night sky.
The cave of healing was smaller than most of the other chambers in the maze of underground tunnels. The soil was rich, dark, and fertile. It smelled pleasant, with the aroma of herbs mixed with the natural fragrance of the earth. Shea’s hand found Jacques’ back pocket and slipped inside, a link between them as they surveyed the extent of Byron’s injuries. Shea felt a helpless sense of deja vu. Smith and Wallace had not had as much time to torture him as they had Jacques, but nevertheless his body was blackened with burns and covered with cuts.
Shea found Jacques’ hand, twisted her fingers in his, hardly daring to look at him. The sight of Byron’s tortured body must bring back such hideous memories. She attempted to be cheerful. “Well, at least they’re consistent in what kind of damage they do. So we know I can help him, based on past experience.”
Jacques did not want her touching the other man. The emotion was sharp and ugly and overwhelming.
Loathing himself, Jacques took a deep breath and let it out, instinctively placing his large frame between Byron and his lifemate.
Shea touched his face with gentle fingers. “What is it?” Her voice was so beautiful, so clear and cool and soothing, that Jacques wanted to cringe from the truth, ashamed, but he could not lie to her.
“I do not know. Only that I cannot bear for you to touch him. God, Shea, I hate myself for this, but you cannot.” His hands cupped her face, his black eyes filled with sorrow. “You cannot do this.”
“What do you think will happen if I touch this man? Do you believe Rand’s stories now? Do you think you influenced me somehow, and our chemistry is not real?”
“I only know that if you touch this man, I will not be in control. The demon in me will rise, and my mind will shatter into so many fragments, I will never be able to put myself back together.”
Shea could feel his loathing for his unreasonable jealousy, his fear that she would ignore his plea and something terrible would happen. She realized she still knew precious little of Carpathian ways, that Jacques was edgy and more animal than man at that moment. Her fingers curled around his arm, and she smiled up at him. “I guess we wait for the healer.”
Jacques could feel the tension drain from his body. “It might be the best idea.”
Shea reached up to trail her fingertips over his neck. The massage was suggestive and reassuring at the same time. He reacted by crushing her to him, his mouth hard and dominating as he captured hers. He kissed her possessively, his body as demanding as his mouth. “I need you right now, Shea. My body is going up in flames, and I hurt like hell. We have to be alone soon or I might die.”
Her laughter was muffled against his chest. “No one has ever died because they wanted to make love.” But she wasn’t sure. Her own body was burning and begging for the connection to his.
Gregori suddenly materialized, made a soft, sighing noise, and sent them a clear frown. Like guilty children they broke apart.
The healer spoke. “He will be weak, Jacques. He may even attempt to resist you. He is close to turning and has been for some time. Tell him of Raven’s child, of your belief that Shea might be able to provide a female child.” Gregori gave the advice softly. “You must take control of him. I felt his resistance to our intervention.”
Jacques nodded. He wished Shea away from Byron; and she moved to the end of the chamber, reading his mind. He sent her thanks and turned his attention to his former friend.
Shea watched him, feeling suddenly proud of him. He might not be able to bear her touching another man yet, but he didn’t like himself very much for it. And she could sense his determination to save Byron. She knew he could not bring himself to lie to her in order to make himself look good in her eyes. He didn’t try to hide his darker side from her but rather wanted her to find a way to love him in spite of it.
And she did. She might not understand, but she loved all of him. He didn’t run from the things he had to do. He faced the demon in himself every day. It had all happened so fast, one thing after the other. Shea had taken a long time to assimilate all the information, but the one consistent thing was the way Jacques was with her. He was honest about everything, even his terrible need of her.