He retreated from her for a moment and as always, it was impossible to read his expression. His black eyes flickered. I will go with you.
Shea sat up reluctantly, hating to have to prove her point but knowing she must thwart his resolve. “Then let’s try going outside onto the porch. Let me do most of the work.”
You think I cannot do this.
“I think your will is strong, Jacques, but your body is weak. Perhaps I’m wrong. I hope I am.” She was silent as she made the preparations. She knew he couldn’t do it, not without terrible pain. The gurney was narrow and uncomfortable. Shea padded it with a blanket. As she helped him from the bed to the gurney, he broke out in a sweat, but he didn’t make a sound. With a sinking heart she pushed him out into the night air. Of course he would tolerate movement silently. He had endured torture and hours of surgery without painkillers or anesthesia. If he made up his mind to do this, he would do so without complaint.
Jacques pushed the pain aside, staring up at the stars, inhaling the night. His world—open air, the rush of wings, the high chirp of bats, the call of insects. He closed his eyes, the better to absorb the smells, the stories. His body resisted the physical exertion, crawled with pain, a dull-edged knife sawing away at his chest.
“Jacques, please don’t be stubborn. I feel what you feel.”
There is no need, Shea. Do not merge with me. I would not wish this on you.
“Please allow me to take you inside and get you into bed. Just this small amount of movement is hurting you. I won’t take you to the village no matter what you say. If the circumstances were reversed, you wouldn’t take me.”
A slight grin curved his mouth. If the circumstances were reversed, there would be no need to go to the village. I would call every human in the vicinity to nourish you. There was a threat in his voice, subtle but still there, and she caught the echo of his censored thought. No human would ever be safe from him if Shea were hurt.
Shea touched his forehead gently. “I’m safe, Jacques, and for now, I’m in charge.”
He gave the mental equivalent of absolute derision. This place is familiar to me. He was surveying his surroundings now, a peculiar glow in his black eyes. I know this place. Something happened here a long time ago that I should remember. His hand went of its own volition to his throat, tracing the thin, almost nonexistent white line curving around his jugular. Only a severe mortal wound can leave a scar. He murmured it aloud under his breath, as if to himself.
Shea remained very quiet, holding herself still, wanting to allow any memory possible to come to Jacques.
I have been here, some time ago. Perhaps a quarter of a century. His head ached, but the memory shimmered, solidified instead of slipping away. His black eyes moved restlessly over the clearing. There was a fight here. A vampire, high and powerful from afresh kill. I had never fought one before; it was my first time. I was not prepared for his strength, his ferocity. Maybe I just could not believe one of my own kind, even turned, would do such evil. He frowned in concentration, tried to catch more fragments and hold on to them. I was guarding someone, someone important, someone who could not fall into the hands of the vampire. There are so few…
The last thought seemed to trail off. Shea merged her mind firmly with his, felt his confusion, his frustration at being unable to capture and pin down the information. Shea put a hand on his forehead, wanting to soothe him. Her touch was tender, her green eyes anxious.
So familiar. Not green, but blue. A woman. Carpathian women are so few. We must guard them well, protect them. It was a woman I was guarding, and she was special. Our hope for the future.
Her heart nearly stopped. Jacques had fought for another woman, nearly lost his life, if the scar was any indication. What woman? Shea was totally unaware she had used the Carpathian lifemate’s method of communication.