Jacques found himself admiring Julian’s answers. This was a man not in the least worried about anyone’s opinion or impression of him. He was self-contained, at ease with himself. It didn’t bother him at all that Jacques was suspicious, that he was firing questions at him.
Healer, hear me. I have need of blood, and this one before me, Julian, the golden twin, has said you will vouch for him.
No one can vouch for one such as Julian. He is a loner, a law unto himself, but his blood is untainted. If Julian turns, it will be Aidan or I who hunts him, no others. Avail yourself of what he offers.
“Did he give me a good recommendation?” Julian’s smile was frankly sardonic.
“The healer never gives good recommendation. You are not his favorite, but he agrees there would be no harm.”
Julian laughed softly, put his wrist to his mouth and bit, then casually reached out to offer his life-giving fluid to Jacques. “I am too much like him, a loner, one who studies too much. I dabble in things better left alone. I fear Gregori has given up on me.” He didn’t sound worried about it.
Jacques nearly staggered as he moved to take the proffered wrist. His mouth clamped tightly over the ragged wound. The blood flowed into Jacques’ withered, shrunken cells. The surge of strength and power was incredible. He had not realized how depleted his system was until the nourishment flowed into his body. It was an effort not to be greedy, to feast at the rich supply.
“Do not worry, I have no duties to perform this night. Take what you need, and I will hunt in town before moving on.” Julian made the offer casually.
Jacques forced himself away from the flowing supply. He closed the wound carefully and looked up at the handsome, weathered face. There was intelligence there, coolness, self-possession, and something else. Jacques could read the dangerous stillness in him. Julian was a man always ready for the unexpected.
“Thank you, Julian. If you ever have need, I expect to return the favor,” Jacques said sincerely.
“I will finish up here,” Julian offered. “It is a shame these three men had to die this night. When they do not return and no search party can find their remains, it will only feed the legends of vampires stalking this country and these parts.”
“I should have expected Rand to use them against me; he knew I would keep them to feed.” Jacques regretted their deaths bitterly.
“You did not kill these men, the vampire did. And you rid the world of one of our monsters. Both humans and Carpathians are indebted to you. Think only of that, Jacques. I wish you good journey and long life.”
“Good journey and long life to you, Julian,” Jacques answered formally.
Chapter Eighteen
Jacques entered the maze of tunnels, his body moving with supernatural speed. He could hear every sound, the water dripping, then roaring, the high squeak of the bats, even the slight shifting of the earth itself. But he could not detect what he wished to hear most. There was no sound coming from the pools. No ripple of water, no humming, no soft breath from sleeping. No heart beating.
Shea was lying motionless on a rock when Jacques entered the steamy underground chamber. He stood very still in the entrance, afraid to move or speak. She had not responded to his telepathic call to her. If she were lost to him, the monster that was Rand would win after all. No one would ever be safe again until Jacques was destroyed. He shook his head. No, if she were dead, he would not leave her to face the unknown without him. Rand would not win. Jacques would follow her, find her. They would spend their life in the next world together.
He cleared his throat carefully, noisily, wanting her to turn to face him. She didn’t move, her body utterly still. Jacques inhaled sharply and caught the faint scent of blood. He cleared the distance between them in a single leap, his speed so great, he was almost unable to stop before plunging headlong into the pool. As it was, he teetered precariously on the rim of the boulder before regaining his balance.
There was blood smeared on the rock beside Shea’s naked body, a faint crimson ribbon over her breasts. Jacques cried out, dropped to his knees beside her, gathered her up to press her against his chest. Her heart was not beating. He could not feel a pulse or find a thread of life. “No!” He shouted it hoarsely, his voice echoing through the chamber eerily. The voice was lonely and lost, his heart ripped out, like Rand’s.
Jacques?Thevoice was faint and far off but unmistakably Shea’s.
Jacques held his breath for a moment, afraid he had truly lost his mind. “Shea?” He breathed her name, a whisper of silk like the feel of her hair on his body. That light. “Where are you, little love? Come back to me.”
Jacques pressed his forehead to hers, his hand over her heart. He felt the first strong beat in his palm, the first rush of blood through her veins and arteries. He captured her mouth with his to take the first breath from her lungs. His own heart could beat, his own lungs could work. He felt tears on his face and held her close.
“What happened to you out there?” she asked softly, clinging to him.
“The vampire and I fought,” he said into her mass of red hair. He caught a strand on the tip of his tongue, ran it through his mouth, needing the feel of her close to him.
“I know. It was Rand. I felt you hit him. I could feel his hatred. It was terrible, like something alien in my body. When you struck, I could feel his pain. Right away I began to bleed. I knew he would use it against you somehow, so I tried to do what you said all Carpathians could do.” She looked ruefully around her at the smears of blood. “It took a while to figure things out, but eventually I was able to put myself to sleep.”
She took his breath away with her bravery. “Why did you not contact me?”
“I was afraid it would distract you, Jacques. I knew you were in a fight for your life. The last thing you needed to do was worry about me.”
“You are still bleeding,” he pointed out softly, holding her away from him so he could examine her.
“It doesn’t really hurt all that much, now that you’re back and safe,” she assured him.
“I’m sorry it was your father. I know how much having a father, some member of your family, alive would have meant to you.” He bent his head to the angry cut across her left breast. His tongue lapped at the wound gently, the healing properties in his saliva instantly closing the laceration. Her skin, recently so cold and lifeless, was suddenly beginning to heat. Steam rose all around them, enfolding them in its embrace. “My family will have to be your family,” he added softly. “We will make our own family.”
Shea rubbed her face against his chest like a kitten, her mouth wandering up the column of his throat. “We have a strange family, Jacques, every one of them. I guess we’ll have to be the sane ones.”
He loved the laughter in her voice. As sad as she must be at this moment, with the man who was her father responsible for so much death and hatred, she still found it in her to try to make him feel better. His arms tightened protectively. “I suppose we cannot tell them we feel this way.”
“Better not. I think they’re under the mistaken impression that something is a little off with us.” Shea moved her head, swinging the silky hair away from her neck, exposing a long, deep scratch for his attention.
Jacques instantly bent his head to accommodate her. His tongue tasted the sweet spice of life, caressed and teased, moved up her neck to find her ear. His teeth nipped gently. He could feel the responsive shiver run through her. Her skin was soft and warm, bringing life to his own. “And we can create our own family eventually, Shea. Our child.” When he felt her stiffen, he held her closer, his voice a velvet soft whisper. “Not now, Shea, later, when you are strong in our world and sure of yourself, and I am completely healed. Our child. Children. Your dream has become my dream. We can have it, Shea.”