Her chin went up. She walked into the main room, avoiding looking at him as she opened the refrigerator and took out some apple juice. Her stomach lurched. The thought of swallowing the liquid made her ill. Something inside her had changed dramatically, as she suspected. She needed to take more blood samples, find out just what was going on with her body. Yet for the first time in her life, she found herself reluctant to study data.
What are you doing? He sounded curious.
“Actually, I’m not sure. I thought I would drink juice, but…” She trailed off, uncertain what to say. Shea always had a firm direction; now she was seriously floundering. Pouring the juice into a glass, she stared at it helplessly.
You wilt make yourself ill. Do not touch that.
“Why would apple juice make me ill?” she asked, curious. Did he know what had happened to her?
You need blood. You are not nearly strong enough. I have scanned your body. Although I am not able to help you as of yet, I can see the need for proper nourishment. Your body cannot cope with the demands you make on it.
“I don’t want to discuss what I should or shouldn’t do.” It bothered her the way he sounded so concerned, almost tender. His voice had a way of making her want to do anything he asked of her, including drinking the blood. She could smell it. She could hear his heart, the rush of blood through his veins. For the space of a heartbeat she allowed the sound to echo in her head, to feed the hunger gnawing at her. She bit down hard on her lower lip. She needed to put a little distance between them. His personality was extremely overpowering. Something deep within her, something wild she hadn’t known was a part of her, was calling out to him. The chemistry was so strong, she ached just looking at him. Shea unbolted the cabin door, began to open it.
Stop! The command was soft, menacing, yet she caught the hint of desperation. The door seemed to be jerked out of her hand by some unknown force and slammed closed. Shocked, she dropped the glass in her hand. It smashed on the floor. She watched the apple juice spread out in a golden stain, the pattern particularly odd, almost like the yawning jaws of a wolf.
With an effort Jacques calmed himself. It was absolute hell to be so helpless, to be trapped in a useless body. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, releasing the terror her rash action had caused. I am sorry, Shea. You did not scan to see if there was danger near. We are hunted. You must never forget that. You must stay close to me so I can be of some use if you are threatened. I did not mean to frighten you.
She looked up at him, her green eyes bewildered. “I don’t know what you mean by scanning.” She said it absently, as if her mind was on something else.
Come here to me. His voice whispered over her skin. He held out a hand to her, his eyes eloquent, hungry. He wanted something from her she dared not think about.
“Not on your life.” He looked so sensual, so sexy, he took her breath away. Shea felt behind her for the wall, leaned against it for stability.
I am not asking for much. Walk to me. It is only a few short steps. Black velvet enticed her: warmth flooded her mind.
She regarded him carefully. “You know what’s wrong with me, don’t you? You did something to me. I know you did. I feel it. Tell me what you’ve done.” Her face was pale, her enormous eyes accusing.
We are one, bound together.
There was the impression of puzzlement. Jacques felt her confusion; he was a shadow in her mind. Yet he was as confused as she was. She truly didn’t understand what he meant by scanning, which was ingrained in him just as breathing was. She had no idea what he meant by their being bound together, yet to him it was perfectly clear. Still, he was not certain he could explain it to her adequately. Why didn’t she know these things? He was the one damaged. His was the mind shattered, his the memories scattered to the four corners of the earth.