“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 vue. 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.”