His voice was so soft, she felt it on her very skin, as if his fingertips were skimming over satin in the lightest caress. Jacques stepped closer, beneath the tree’s canopy, his dark eyes intense. “Choose me now, Shea. Need me. Want me. Love me. Choose life for us.”
“It shouldn’t be like this.”
“We are not human. We are Carpathian, of the earth. We command the wind and the rain. The animals are our brethren. We can run with the wolf, soar with the owl, and become one with the rain itself. We are not human, Shea. We do not feed on flesh as humans do, and we do not love as humans do. We are different.”
“We are hunted all the time.”
“And we hunt. It is the cycle of life. Shea, look at me.”
* * *
Chapter Ten
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Shea lifted her emerald gaze to the disturbing intensity of Jacques’ black eyes. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his skin reaching out to her. His fingertips brushed the curve of her cheek, her mouth. His need of her was as elemental as the storm itself. It burned in him like the hot sizzle of electricity, like the slowly spreading heat of molten lava. “Need me, Shea.” His voice ached with it. “Need me the same way I need you. I would give my life for you. Live for me. Find a way to live for me. Love me that much.”
Her eyelashes swept down, raindrops glistening on the ends of the feathery crescents. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her frantic pulse. Each light caress sent flames dancing through her body. Her gaze once more reluctantly found his, her eyes filled with a kind of hopelessness. “Of course I know what the cost is to you, little one. I feel your reluctance, your revulsion of our feeding habits.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck, drew her close.
“I’ve tried to make the adjustment,” she protested. “I need more time.”
“I know that, Shea. I should have found another way to help you heal. I am trying to find out what kind of lifemate you have. I want to be what you need, someone you can respect and love, not someone who imposes his will and takes the expedient way out. There are ways, little love, to feed you without revulsion.” His mouth found her pulse, felt it jump under the velvet rasp of his tongue.
His lips moved to her chin, the corner of her lips. His voice was husky, aching. “Want me enough, Shea. Want me with more than just your body. Let me into your heart.” His mouth fastened on hers, not gently but wildly, hungrily. The hunger was in his eyes when he raised his head to look down at her. “Open your mind to me. Want me there, as you want me in your body. Want me coming to you wild with a need only you can satisfy. Take me into your soul and let me live there.” His mouth was roaming every inch of her face, the column of her neck, the hollow of her shoulder.
His body burned and ached and needed. His heart tuned itself to the rhythm of hers. His mind was a haze of desire, erotic pictures, and sensual needs. It was filled with tenderness and love, an intensity that scorched her as much as the hunger in him. The heat of his mouth found her breast through the thin cotton of her shirt, claimed her. His body reacted savagely, painfully, his jeans tight and uncomfortable.
Jacques dragged her closer, the storm in him, around him, a part of him. “Make me whole. Shea. Do not leave me like this. Want me back. Need my body in yours. Have to touch me as I have to touch you.”
Shea could feel it in him, the raging, wild desire, the dark, sensual hunger. His eyes held so much need, there was no way she could possibly refuse him. Her hands were already sliding over his defined, sculpted muscles, the wildness in her erupting every bit as stormily as the weather around them.