Shea touched his jaw with gentle fingers. “Thank you for watching out for me while I was unaware. You didn’t let them put me in the ground.”
Again he brought her hand to his mouth. “I knew you would not want such a thing.” His dark eyes indicated the far side of the room. He raised his hand, and the door opened at his mental command.
Instantly the wind blew rain into the cabin, a high-pitched moan rising above the scraping branches. Shea shivered, drew closer to the heat and protection of his body. It was wild outside, black fury, the rain driving down in silver sheets. Shea didn’t need the flashes of lightning illuminating the forest to see clearly the deep, vivid greens and browns, the drops of rain like thousands of crystals reflecting the beauty of the trees and bushes. She saw with more than the eyes of a human; she saw with the eyes of an animal. She could feel the wildness of the storm in her own body.
Jacques tightened his hold on her as he felt her try to reject such intense and foreign emotions. “No, little one, look at it. This is our world. There is nothing ugly in it. It is clean and honest and beautiful.” He murmured the words into her ear, his mouth finding the heat of her skin, his tongue caressing her pulse.
A shiver of excitement, of sensual awareness, rushed through her blood. Everything in her seemed to reach for him. Her body, her heart, her mind. Fear crawled in as she acknowledged her need of him. Her life was different now. She was different. If her father had been like Jacques, his blood had run diluted in her veins. Jacques had somehow brought her fully into his world. She found herself inhaling deeply, drinking in the sights and smells, something wild in her rising to meet the fury of the storm.
“It is ours, Shea. The wind, the rain, the soil beneath our feet.”
His words brushed along her skin like a hand in a velvet glove. His teeth scraped seductively along her throat, sent her blood rushing, pooling. “Can we leave tonight? Now?” The wildness in her was growing, spreading. Her need of him was growing just as strong. She wanted to flee the woods, escape from whatever was inside of her and gaining strength with every moment she was here.
“We will have to make plans for shelter,” he counseled softly. “Running blindly without thought will get us killed.”
Shea closed her eyes tiredly. “There isn’t any place for us to run to, is there?” The part of her that sorted data so perfectly told her she was trying to run from herself.
He folded his arms around her, cradling her tenderly. “You could not have existed for much longer in the half-life you were living. And you were never really happy there. You have never been happy, Shea.”
“That’s not true. I love my work, being a surgeon.”
“You were not meant for a solitary life, little red hair.”
“A doctor hardly leads a solitary life, Jacques.”
“A surgeon does not need to interact with patients, a researcher even less so. I am in your mind, know your thoughts, and this you cannot keep from me.”
Her green eyes glinted at him. “Has it occurred to you that I might not like you running around in my head? You’re like a loose cannon. Neither one of us knows when you might go off.” Amusement was creeping into her voice, and her body began to relax.
Jacques held back his sigh of relief. She was coming back to him, meeting him hallway. “It is the way of our people.”
She turned back to stare out the door into the storm. “All the time?”
The information came easily this time, without the curious splintering pain in his head. “No. All Carpathians can communicate on one common path if they desire it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am not certain if I am able to do this. I cannot exactly remember the path, only that there is one.”
“The others tried to speak to you,” she guessed shrewdly.