Byron’s form shimmered for a moment. She could actually see the tree behind the mist, and then he was solid, standing with the curious elegance of the Carpathian male. He lifted his eyes from the ground to meet Jacques’ icy-black gaze. “We have been friends for centuries, Jacques. I cannot remember a time in my life that we did not run together. It is strange and sad to me that you can look at me and not know me.”
Shea, behind Jacques, stirred uncomfortably. Byron’s sorrow appeared more than he could bear. She wanted to reach out to him, make an attempt to ease his obvious suffering. Do not! The command was sharp in her mind, clear and in a tone that brooked no argument. Jacques remained motionless, as if carved from stone. Byron’s words did not appear to move him in any way.
Byron shrugged, his face twisted with pain. “When we thought you were dead, we searched for your body. Months, years even. You were never out of our thoughts. You were my family, Jacques, my friend. It was hard to learn to be completely solitary. Gregori and Mikhail and even Aidan survived the centuries because, as alone as they had to be, they had a bond, an anchor to keep them strong through the bleak centuries. You were mine. Once you were gone, my struggle became immense.”
When Jacques remained silently on guard, Shea pushed at his back. Can’t you hear his grief? He’s reaching out to you. Even if you can’t remember him, help him.
You do not know if he has turned or not, Jacques reprimanded her. You felt the presence, and here he is. A vampire can give the illusion of purity, of anything he chooses. Stay behind me!
“I just wanted to tell you I am glad you are back, and I am happy for you that you found your lifemate. It was wrong of me to be envious. I should have been more cautious about judging what I did not understand.” Byron raked a hand through his dark hair. “I am going away for a while. I must to gain the strength to get through the years.”
Jacques nodded slowly. “I am going to the healer to try to repair the damage done to my mind. I have noticed Gregori’s relationship with Mikhail seems to be strong even though Mikhail has a lifemate. I would wish that if all that you say is true, when I am healed, we can resume our friendship.”
The wild winds were dying down. The rain beat down in a steady drone, and the air seemed heavily oppressed. Byron nodded tiredly and managed a wan smile that did not light his eyes. “I wish the best for you both, and I hope that you have many children. Try to make them female for my sake.”
“When will you return?” Jacques inquired.
“When I am able.” Byron’s form began to waver, to fade, so that they could see through the transparent shape.
Jacques’ body crouched lower in readiness, a fluid movement that was barely discernible. Instinctively Shea moved back to give him more room. It seemed a good idea to err on the side of caution. Jacques had never once let down his guard, where Shea would have rushed to comfort Byron compassionately. She inhaled the night, suddenly depressed. On the wind came the oppressive hatred the forest seemed to reek of. She searched Jacques’ impassive face. He didn’t seem to notice, his attention on the mist streaming away from him. Did he feel it? If it wasn’t Byron causing it, why hadn’t Byron felt it? Her analytical mind examined the question. She had assumed Jacques couldn’t feel the presence because his mind was so fragmented.
“We will return using a different route, Shea. We cannot stay in the cabin.” Jacques caught her hand in his and pulled her through the trees. “It is no longer safe.”
Shea had the vague impression of a twisted, malevolent smile. Silent laughter, grimly amused. She shook her head to rid herself of the image, afraid she was hallucinating. Jacques? Her voice trembled with uncertainty.
His fingers tightened around hers. “There is no need to worry, we will find suitable shelter. I would never allow you to be harmed.” He drew her hand to the warmth of his mouth with remarkable tenderness. “You feel the undead one. Is it Byron?”