You are certain your mother never touched blood? He probed gently, afraid she would stop sharing what were obviously painful memories. He had no real way to ease her hurt except with the strength of his arms and the closeness of his body.
“Never. She was like a beautiful shadow already gone from the world. She thought only of him. Rand. My father.”
The name touched a painful fragment of memory in him. It was so intense, he let it slip away before “he could catch it. You never met him? The mere thought of the man she called her father brought splinters of glass stabbing through his head.
“No, he was married to a woman named Noelle.”
Shocked recognition, an inconsolable grief, a woman once beautiful, beheaded, a stake through her heart. The memory was so vivid, so intense, Jacques choked, shoved the information far away from him. But he had recognized her. Noelle.
Shea lifted her head, green eyes searching his black gaze. “You know her.” She shared the memory in his mind, saw the same fragments of images. The glimpse sickened her, the brutality of that death. The woman had been murdered using the ritual “vampire” slaying techniques. Beheaded. The stake.
She is dead. He said it with certainty, with sorrow. She was my sister.
Shea’s face went white. “Did she have a son?”
A male child.
“Oh, God!” Shea tore herself out of his arms as if burned, leapt up and away from him, her arms covering her breasts, her eyes wild. “This gets worse every minute. My father was probably your sister’s husband.” She backed away from the bed in horror.
You do not know this. It is a big world.
“How many Rands are there from the Carpathian Mountains, someone like you? Someone married to a woman named Noelle, who gave birth to a boy? It was all in my mother’s diary.”
Vampire hunters drove a stake through her heart. Years ago. Years before they got me. I do not remember more. Perhaps I do not care to.
Shea found another shirt, dragged it on. “I’m sorry for her. I’m sorry for my mother. This is all so wrong.” She waved a hand, encompassed the bed. “We’re probably related or something.”
Lifemates are born to one another, Shea. There is only one for each. What your parents or my sister chose to do with their lives has nothing to do with us.
“Of course it does. We don’t know who you really are. We know virtually nothing about you. What I’m doing here with you is against the rules of my profession. We don’t even know if you’re married or not.”
There is only one lifemate, Shea. I know this is all new and frightening to you, but as I must lie here in frustration, you must have patience. We are finding out information in bits and pieces. I cannot remember details I know are important to us. I ask that you be patient while we sort these things out. He shifted uncomfortably.
The movement brought her back to herself, calmed her as nothing else could. “You aren’t taking care of yourself, Jacques. You can’t be moving around.” She bent over him, her hand cool on his burning skin. The hole below his heart was beginning to heal. Her long hair fell over her shoulder, brushed his abdomen with fire. The warmth of her breath as she leaned over him to examine the wound was like a dancing flame on his skin.
Jacques closed his eyes as every muscle in his body clenched in response. His reaction to her more than anything else told him that he was healing. His hand knotted in the silk of her hair. I know you think to leave me, Shea, when I am at full strength. Her enormous eyes jumped to his face, watched as he crushed her silky hair to his mouth. You fear me. I can see the fear in your eyes.
Her tongue moistened her lower lip. She looked thoughtful. Jacques found her mind using its ability to shove her emotions aside as it did when she felt threatened in some way. Her intellect took over, assessing the situation between them. “I don’t know what you are, Jacques, or, when you’re perfectly well, what you’re capable of doing. I know nothing of your past or your future. I’m a medical researcher, and, once you recover, it’s very possible we won’t have a thing in common.”