“You were able to do in an hour what several days of my care could not accomplish.” In spite of herself there was a note of admiration in her voice.
“How is it you found Jacques when we could not?” Again Gregori’s voice was casual, but she sensed the question was a trap.
Her chin lifted, her green eyes defiant. “Seven years ago, while studying, I was overcome with pain. Pain there was no medical explanation for. The agony lasted for hours. From that night on, I had dreams of a man tortured, in pain, calling to me.”
“Where were you?” Gregori questioned.
“In the United States.” Shea swept her fingers through her hair, found her hand was trembling, and put it behind her back. Those glittering pale eyes were disconcerting. They seemed to see right into her soul, see every mistake she had ever made. “I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s true. I had no idea there really was a man, that he was suffering.” Guilt washed over her. “I should have found him sooner, but I didn’t believe…” She trailed off, tears welling up.
Do not do this, my love, Jacques commanded, his arms tightening protectively. They have no right to judge you. None of them came for me. You did, across an ocean. And I did not treat you gently. He touched the warmth of his mouth to her bruised throat. “Yet you returned to me in spite of the way I attacked you.” He said the last aloud deliberately, a warning to the Carpathians to back off from questioning her.
“You must have been terrified,” Raven said softly.
Shea nodded and sent Jacques a small smile. “He was definitely something I had never encountered in my practice.” She was striving for normalcy in a world that was turned upside down.
“You are young to be a doctor,” Mikhail observed.
Shea made herself really look at him for the first time. Jacques and Mikhail shared the same powerful build, the thick mane of hair, the ice-black eyes. They both carried the hard edge of authority, self-confidence, and the trace of arrogance that came with it. Jacques’ finely chiseled features were more worn from his ordeal. “You look young to be centuries old,” she countered, remembering the feel of his fingers on her throat.
Mikhail acknowledged her with a slight grin and a nod.
Beside her, Jacques fought down the snarling beast the memory of Mikhail’s attack triggered. Shea ignored him. “A woman named Noelle had a child, a son, with a man named Rand. Do you know where the boy is? He would be twenty-six now,” she asked.
Mikhail’s features stilled, became a mask. A slow hiss escaped, and Jacques instinctively edged around Shea so that she was behind him.
Be very careful, Mikhail, Gregori warned.
“Noelle was our sister,” Mikhail stated softly, “murdered just weeks after the child was born.”
Shea nodded. The information confirmed what Jacques had already told her. “And the child?”
I do not like this, Gregori. Why would she wish to know of Noelle’s child? Humans murdered her. They have a network with far-reaching tentacles. Perhaps she is a part of it after all. Mikhail’s voice shimmered in Gregori’s mind.
Jacques would know. Gregori was certain.
Maybe not. His mind is shattered.
He would know. She could not hide it. You fear for your brother. You do not look at her with your eyes and mind open. There is much sorrow, tragedy in her eyes. She is tied to a man she does not know, a man who is extremely dangerous, one who has hurt her on more than one occasion. She is highly intelligent, Mikhail; she knows what she has become, and she is struggling to accept it. This woman is no assassin.
Mikhail inclined his head at his oldest friend’s assessment. “Noelle’s son was murdered seven years ago, probably by the same assassins who tortured my brother.”
If it was possible for Shea to grow any paler, she did. Her body swayed slightly; and Jacques gathered her close. The boy had been his nephew, but Jacques had no memory of the child or the man, so the pain he felt was Shea’s. Her half-brother, her only chance at a family.