Shea’s hand found the wall. Using it as a support, she pulled herself up. “I refuse to buy into this. I am not your lifemate. I made no commitment, nor will I.” She began edging along the wall toward the door.
Shea, do not! It was no plea, rather an imperious command, his harsh features an implacable mask.
“I won’t let you do this to me. I don’t care if you are a vampire. You can make the choice to kill me, Jacques, because there is no other way.”
You have no conception of power, Shea, its uses or misuses. His voice was a soft menace, the tone sending a shiver down her spine. Do not defy me.
Her chin lifted. “My mother’s life was a waste and my childhood hell. If the man who was my father was like you and somehow bound her to him, then abandoned her—” She broke off, took a deep breath to regain control. “I’m strong, Jacques. No one is going to own me or control me or abuse me. I will not kill myself over a man’s desertion. Nor would I ever leave my child alone in the world while I withdrew and became an empty shell.”
Jacques could feel the hurt she had suffered as a child. Her memories were stark and ugly. She had been utterly alone and in need of support and guidance. Like any child, she had blamed herself for her isolation. On some level she thought she was not lovable, too different to be loved. The child had retreated from her emotions—it was unsafe there—and had trained her intellect to take over when she was frightened or threatened in any way.
She stepped backward out the door, her eyes still locked with his. Jacques made an effort to tamp down his dark fury, the promise of retaliation, but it was impossible to hide the swirling emotions from her. She was too close, too aware of him now. Jacques simply withdrew from her, silently. He turned his face away from her. Shea whirled and ran, tears for her mother, tears for herself, running down her face. She never cried, never. She had learned a long time ago that tears never helped. Why had she been so foolish as to think she could tamper with things she didn’t understand?
She ran fast, her body sleek and streamlined, making a silent dash over rotting logs and moss-covered boulders. It took some time to realize she was barefoot, and never once had either foot come down on a dry branch or small rock. She seemed to skim over the ground rather than pound on it. Her lungs were fine, no fierce burning for oxygen. There was only hunger, sharp and gnawing, growing with each step she took.
Shea slowed to a steady lope, lifting her face to the stars. Everything was so intensely beautiful. The wind carried scents, stories. Fox kits in a den, two deer nearby, a rabbit in the brush. She stopped abruptly beside a small stream. She had to have a plan. Running away like a wild animal was totally ridiculous. Her hands found the trunk of a tree, fingertips feeling each whorl, hearing the sap running like blood, the very life of the tree. She knew each insect invading it, making its home in the wood.
She sank down in the soft soil, guilt washing over her. She had left him alone, unprotected. She had not fed him. Her forehead slipped into her open palms. Everything was so crazy. Nothing added up. Hunger ate at her like an insidious monster, and she could hear the heartbeats of the animals in the forest beckoning.
Vampire. Was there such a creature? Was she such a creature? Jacques took blood from her so easily, in so practiced a manner. She knew what was in him; he could be utterly cold and merciless, raging with venomous fury. It never showed on his face or in the way he talked to her, but it was there, seething below the surface. Shea picked up a stone and threw it toward the bubbling stream.
Jacques. What was she going to do about him? Her body rippled with discomfort, her mind with unease. She had an overwhelming urge to reach out to him, to assure herself he was all right. Her mind was trying to comprehend, to believe the impossible. He was a creature far different from a human being. She wasn’t like him, but her father must have been.