Byron groaned, bringing her attention to the men bending over him. Gregori was as still as a statue, his concentration completely on the ravaged body. Jacques was forcing his wrist to Byron’s mouth. Shea’s stomach lurched, but she didn’t look away.
Byron resisted, his eyes imploring.
“You must take my blood. The women are safe; the trap you warned us of failed.” Jacques’ low voice seemed to be notes of music dancing in the air. Shea merged with him to increase his strength. She could feel Jacques’ surprise as her will joined with his to force Byron’s compliance.
“Mikhail’s woman carries a female child,” Jacques said softly. “Shea is from the human race and capable of providing female children. There is hope now for a future, Byron. We want you to join with us to find those human women of psychic ability our people need. You cannot throw your life away. What if, through our bond of friendship and blood, you are the lifemate to my daughter? What would become of our child? Take what is freely offered, old friend, and save yourself. You are strong. You will endure while we rebuild our race.”
Byron looked into Jacques’ black eyes for a long time, seeking something he evidently found. He closed his mouth over the offered wrist and drank willingly. For the first time, Shea did not find the act repulsive. There was something beautiful in the way Jacques gave his blood so freely to Byron. It was far more personal than the way humans donated blood.
Her body clenched with hot desire, and without thinking she bathed Jacques’ mind in her heat. She saw his body hunch, as if someone had physically punched him. Guilt stirred for a moment, but then he was stroking her throat, his mental touch every bit as exciting in her state of arousal as his physical one.
Gregori straightened up slowly and inhaled sharply, turned to glare at Jacques. Take your woman and find a place away from us. You know how dangerous Carpathian men can be at such a time. See to your needs, Jacques.
I have little memory of these parts. If you recall, our home was invaded, and the vampire knows where it is.
Go deeper into the earth. The cave continues until you find the very core, the hot springs. You will be safe there. And alone.
And Byron?
He cannot speak. As yours was, his voice is paralyzed. I doubt if he can recall his betrayer. I will put him in the ground to heal. And I will seek out Rand. Our prince has passed sentence upon such a betrayer. Make no mistake— I will make certain he is the one before I destroy him.
Jacques reached down and touched Byron’s shoulder. “Go to the sleep of our earth, Byron. I will return each day to see that you are fed and your wounds are healing. Do you trust me to do this?”
Byron nodded wearily and closed his eyes. He welcomed the solace of the healing earth. Already the blood was flowing through his veins, giving him strength to heal. He felt better knowing he had somehow warned the others of the trap the vampire had set. He had been used to lure the men away from the women. The vampire had even whispered to him of the plan to sacrifice Smith while Slovensky and his nephew killed Raven and took Shea. The earth opened, and his weightless body floated into the cradle. All around him the rich soil reached out for him, welcomed him. He gave himself up to sleep and earth.
Jacques nodded in a slight salute to Gregori and reached out to Shea. The moment his fingers closed around hers, the electricity arced sharply and cleanly between them. He pulled her out of the chamber and into the tunnel. To her horror, instead of going back up toward the forest, Jacques drew her down toward the very bowels of the earth. The tunnel was wide enough that they could walk together, but she didn’t move fast enough to suit him. With every step he took, Jacques’ body became tighter and more painful. His breath was corning in hoarse gasps. He swung her into his arms and raced down the tunnel’s twists and turns.
“What are you doing, Jacques?” Half laughing, half concerned, Shea held on tightly, her slender arms around his neck.
“I am getting us to a place where we can be alone.” He was decisive about it. He had wanted her for hours, for days, for a lifetime. He had to have her this minute.
Shea buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, her body responding to the urgency in his voice, to his labored breathing and rapid heartbeat. Her mouth touched his pulse, her breath warming his skin. She felt him shiver with awareness and gently probed the spot with the tip of her tongue. “Mmm, you taste good.”
“Damn it, Shea, I swear if you keep that up, we will not make it to the springs.”
“I never heard of any springs,” she murmured absently, stroking the beating pulse again, her teeth playfully nipping. Her mouth wandered farther up his neck to his ear.
“Hot springs. It is only a little way farther,” he groaned, but he leaned his head toward her attentions.
Her hand slipped down the front of his shirt, played with his buttons, slowly sliding them open so that her palm could rest on his hot skin. “I think you’re hot enough, Jacques,” she whispered wickedly into his ear, caressing his earlobe with her tongue. “I know I am.”
He stopped, leaned against the curved wall, and allowed her feet to touch the ground. There were no words to describe the hunger, the urgency of his body, or the chaos of his mind. He bent over her, forcing her slender body backward as he took control of her mouth. His hand spanned her throat, tipping up her chin for better access.
Shea experienced a curious shifting of the earth beneath her feet. Colors whirled in her head, and flames licked at her body. She could hardly bear the feel of clothes against her sensitive skin. Her breasts swelled and ached, her nipples pushing into the material covering them.
Jacques was on fire, his jeans so tight, he could no longer breathe. He tore at them, freed his body from the restrictive fabric and ripped at the cotton covering hers. “I have to have you right now, Shea,” he said hoarsely. His hands were everywhere, cupping her firm breasts, his thumbs caressing, arousing, bringing her nipples to peaks of temptation.
His teeth scraped the vulnerable line of her throat, followed the path lower to the creamy swell of her breasts. At Shea’s quick indrawn breath he feasted, hungry and aching with need. His hands bit into her small waist as he held her still. Her cotton top gaped open, giving him glimpses of her narrow ribcage. She was making little wild, husky noises that only added to his frenzy.
“You’re out of control, wild man,” Shea whispered softly, her hands urging him on. They were a living flame, heating the very air around them.
Jacques yanked at her jeans, dragged her to the ground, his body covering hers as he did so. “You think?” His hands pinned her hips, lifted her so that he could drive forward, burying himself deep. The pleasure was somewhere between exquisite and pain, relief and pure joy. She was so hot and ready, clenching at him, surrounding him with fiery velvet. He felt her mouth against the heavy muscles of his chest, her breath, her soft little murmur of wonder. His body tightened in response, moved faster and deeper. White-hot heat spread, piercing pain that moved to sweet ecstasy as her teeth found his pulse. He flowed into her; sensual and spicy, his body taking possession of hers in the dominant way of his kind. Wild. Hungry. Urgent.
He moved slower, faster, deep and shallow. They connected in every way, their hearts and souls flying free. He never wanted to leave her body, a haven of pleasure that would last an eternity. His heart was pounding, his brain whirling with erotic indulgence. His fangs exploded into his mouth, needing all of her. Even as she fed, he bent his dark head and took possession of her neck.