Shea seemed to float above Raven's body. Her world narrowed until it was only the woman lying so still on the floor. At first it seemed as if Raven was dead, as if her life force was completely gone. Slowly, in her own stillness, with new awareness, Shea could feel the low energy seeping from Raven. Colors seemed to pulse around her, but they were pale and seemed to be fading.

"Now, Mikhail," Gregori ordered.

The words were spoken aloud, yet in her head. Shea realized she hadn't seen Mikhail. He was somewhere with Byron, holding Raven alive from a distance. She wanted to ask his forgiveness for allowing this to happen, but the light that was Shea was already positioning herself over Raven. She felt mild surprise that she seemed to know what to do, but then she realized she wasn't alone. The ball of pure white light beside her was guiding her movements. Her every thought focused on Raven's body; nothing else mattered. She felt Mikhail give Raven the command to awaken to mortal unconsciousness.

Blood spurted, poured from the wounds. Raven's heart was loud, echoing through Shea's light. She found herself streaming through the blood, white-hot heat cauterizing the worst of the wounds. She worked quickly, in deep and complete concentration, to stem the flow of Raven's life force before she expired. Shea's brain assessed the internal damage to each organ even as she worked. The repairs were done through thought. Every stitch was meticulous, every extraction of bullet fragments precise and careful. It was no different from operating physically, except it was more draining. Maintaining the level of concentration necessary for such a prolonged period was exhausting. Still, there was little sense of time passing. Just as she was in the operating room, Shea was caught up in the job at hand. She even felt as if she were sweating, as if a nurse should wipe her brow for her.

This was the world Shea knew. Her world. She had the patience to deal with extensive injuries. She had the knowledge and skills. More than that, she had the sheer determination. She would not lose her patient if there was any possibility of success.

The damage was horrific. Shea was shocked that Raven had survived as long as she had. Even a trauma center could not have saved her life; there were far too many mortal injuries. And the baby... How could the baby possibly survive?

Gregori approached the tiny being cautiously. The extent of the trauma was enormous. The baby was fading as blood gushed from its mother's body. He could feel its willingness to slide away from the pain and outrage of the assault. He could only hope Shea would stop the bleeding quickly, as he had to concentrate on the child. She was so tiny, almost nonexistent, yet he could feel her pain and her puzzlement. She knew fear before she was born, knew pain, and now held forever the knowledge that life was not safe, even here in her mother's womb.

Gregori murmured softly, reassuringly, to her. He had bathed her in his light once before, and she recognized him now, moved toward him, seeking comfort. Very carefully he attended to the wound in the artery that supplied her with nourishment. Very soon he would give her his own blood, sealing her fate, binding her ever closer to him. There were several tears in the placenta, which he meticulously sealed. She was afraid as his light floated closer, so he provided waves of reassurance and warmth.

There was a laceration in her right thigh. It hurt, and blood was seeping into the fluid surrounding her. With the lightest of touches he closed the wound, his touch lingering to calm her. His chant, the low pitch of his voice, echoed in her heart, in her mind, invading her soul. Gregori talked to her as he worked, the purity of his tone beguiling her, soothing her, so that she stayed with Raven rather than simply letting go, fading away with the steady trickle of blood.

Gregori could feel the strength in her, the determination. Without a doubt, she was Mikhail and Raven's daughter. If she chose to go, she would do so, but if she chose to stay, she would fight with every breath left in her body. Gregori made certain she wanted to fight. He whispered to her in his most beguiling voice, promised a fascinating future, lured her with the secrets and beauty of the universe awaiting her. He promised her she would never be left alone; he would be there to guide her, to protect her, to see to her happiness.

Before he could complete his work, he felt Shea tremble, felt her suddenly become aware of the pain of her own wounds. Reassuring the child that he would return, he worked his way out of Raven's body, taking Shea with him. She was swaying on her knees, so pale and drained she was gray. Although the injuries to her shoulder and arm were not critical, she had lost more blood than she could afford.

Jacques was supporting her, holding her against his chest, his arms keeping her from toppling over. She didn't really seem to notice, only pushed ineffectually at him. "I'm not finished. Why did you bring me out, Gregori?" she protested, annoyed. Her one thought was to get back to her patient.

"You must feed or you will not be able to continue," he counseled softly. "And Raven needs blood." The healer's silver eyes went to Jacques', and he nodded.

Jacques thrust his mind into Shea's without hesitation, commanding that she feed. She was so tired and drawn, she could barely turn up her face to the hollow of his neck. At once his body clenched with her breath so warm against his skin. He drew her closer, felt the scrape of her teeth, a slight nip on his neck. Jacques nearly groaned aloud, cursed the depth of Carpathian sexuality that could send his body into hard, painful need when there was blood and death all around them.

Shea whispered something against his pulse, something soft and sighing that invaded his body and left him hungry for her intimate touch. He covered his moan of urgent need as her teeth sank into his neck. Hot flames danced through his bloodstream, darted along his muscles and nerves. His hands found her waist, her back, cradled her head to him. His body needed to sate itself with hers. Never had the heat been so burning and the need so great.

Gregori's teeth tore at his own wrist. His mind merged with Mikhail's, and together they forced Raven's reluctant compliance. She was still a fledging, a mere quarter of a century old, yet she was already strong. It took both of them to force her to feed from other than Mikhail. She resisted for a moment.

For our child, little one, Mikhail whispered softly, lovingly, bending her will to his.

You must do this for our child.

Gregori added his own reinforcement.

I have never asked anything of you, Raven, of our friendship. This I ask.

Raven pushed down her revulsion and allowed Mikhail and Gregori to put her into a trance so that she was able to accept the life-giving fluid that both she and her daughter needed so desperately.

Gregori concentrated on connecting with the child. It was so helpless, so tiny, so afraid. A living, thinking being already. He could feel the confusion and its sudden awareness of being alone. He sent waves of reassurance. His blood, flowing into the small body, would strengthen their bond, ensure that her chemistry would match his.

He had spent a lifetime preparing for this moment, the time when he would have the opportunity to choose his mate. He had always known it would be a child of Mikhail's. When Raven had been attacked and mortally wounded years before, Gregori had made certain he had supplied the blood to heal her: His ancient blood was powerful and strong, and he had sent with it the rudiments of the first bonding in the hopes that Raven, a human woman, would conceive a female child. Now he was able to reinforce that bond, seal the child to him for all time. She was bound to him, body and soul, as he was to her. For the first time in centuries he felt hope. And to a male Carpathian on the verge of turning vampire, hope was the only thing left.

Shea closed the wound on Jacques' neck with a sensuous stroke of her tongue, then blinked up at him with eyes slightly glazed and cloudy. Almost at once her expression changed, and she shoved Jacques away. It wasn't that he had taken her free will; she would have fed to save Raven and the child. It was the way he had forced her to help him kill their enemy. Calmly, without emotion, he had commanded it.

You have always known I had demons in me, red hair.

Shea brushed a hand over her face, then shoved her wild hair aside as if to push him along with it.

I always thought you would behave like a man, not a wild animal wanting to kill. It is in our nature to kill. We are predators. Even if you were trying to save my life and felt you needed to kill Wallace, you did not have to use me to do it so viciously. Go away. I have work to do, and I'm very tired.

Jacques did not move from her side. Despite the rain, it was light outside. Even with the intense storm he was generating, the light was beginning to affect all their eyes. They had very little time to finish; soon their bodies would demand the sleep of their kind. He could convince Shea later that he was no monster. Right now his job was to protect all those present while they worked.

He scanned their surroundings continually. He built the storm and kept it roiling and frenzied above them, making the area unsafe to travel within. He supported Shea's swaying body and kept an eye on the healer, who was looking gray and gaunt. What they were doing was a mystery to Jacques. He was proud that Shea was able to perform such a miracle, and he was secretly pleased that the healer needed her help.

Jacques knew Mikhail must be worried sick and feeling helpless. He had been the logical choice to take Byron to the cave of healing and place him in the ground until the healer could get to him. That meant that Mikhail had to keep Raven alive from a distance, a feat that was wearing after a time. And he would want to be the one to supply his own mate with blood and protect her from further harm.

Jacques swore softly to himself. Three Carpathian males should never have allowed humans to fool them. Why hadn't they detected the presence of the men nearby in the forest? Why hadn't the threat to Raven and Shea been ferreted out?

He looked at Shea's arm, red and raw with open wounds, and cursed again. He was sworn to protect her and keep her happy. So far he had done a poor job of it. How was he going to take away the trauma of this day and show her the beauty of their life together? For the first time he became aware of the body of Eugene Slovensky. He sighed and moved away from Shea to hoist the carcass onto his shoulder and toss it outside to the wolves. The last thing Shea would need when she finished the grueling operation was to see any grisly evidence of their kills.

Jacques shoved a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing how tired he was. Everything about his relationship with Shea had gone wrong. He had inadvertently brought her over without her knowledge or consent. He had not even helped her through the difficult process. Worse, he had abused her whenever his mind fragmented. And now, to add to his long list of sins, he had viciously, joyously eliminated an enemy using her as his guide. He wasn't very good at being a husband.

Jacques tried to use his newfound powers to search his memory for the time Mikhail had brought Raven over. Mikhail, too, had done so without her consent, without her knowledge of the existence of Carpathians. He had done it hastily, to save her life, and none of them, even Mikhail, had known if it would work. Raven had been forced to learn a new way of life.

A slight sound sent him whirling around to face Gregori, who staggered away from Raven's body. Shea slumped down beside the woman and didn't move. The two healers appeared drained and nearly helpless.

"You have need of blood," Jacques said to Gregori. "You gave Raven too much."

"She had need," Gregori answered wearily. He stretched out on the floor, one arm flung over his eyes to protect them.

"Allow me to provide for you. I have fed well this day," Jacques offered formally. The sun was climbing steadily despite the severity of the storm.

"I thank you, Jacques, but I am just too damn tired. This is Mikhail's old cabin. Find out where his chamber is hidden."

Jacques tested his strength, searched for the lost connection to his brother.

Mikhail? They are far too tired to continue. You will have to guard Byron, and I will take care of those here. In this cabin you must have a private resting place. Where is it? Beneath the table is a trapdoor that leads to the area under the house. Take care, it is not that well hidden. But if the house were to be discovered or set afire, you could close the earth above you and survive. The healer will not accept blood this day. He is in need.

There was a short pause as Mikhail touched Gregori to assess his condition.

Hewill survive. Just get them to safety.

Feeling like a true Carpathian male once-more, Jacques made his way to the hidden chamber. It was unusual for Carpathians to share a sleeping chamber, to even allow others to know where they rested. Entirely vulnerable during the afternoon hours, they were cautious to conceal where they slept. Jacques was uneasy with the arrangement and knew the healer would be even more so.

With his strength waning as the sun climbed higher, Jacques carefully carried Raven's broken body to the chamber below and settled her on a blanket. After locking the cabin, securing the windows, and shutting off the generator, Jacques swung Shea's slight body into his arms. She gave a soft murmur of protest, but her arms crept up around his neck, and her body settled into his trustingly. She was in a light sleep by the time he took her below to the underground chamber.

Gregori stumbled after them, far too drained to bother with floating. He lay across the entrance to the lair and remained there. With Jacques he uttered the words commanding the earth to close them off from the day and cast spells to safeguard them from intruders. Before he slipped off to sleep, he remembered the meadow with the wire strung across it and sent off a silent warning to anything that might try to venture into it. Later he would dismantle the dangerous traps.

Jacques packed healing earth and saliva over Shea's wounds and then Raven's. Only then did he curl his body protectively around his lifemate's before committing himself to sleep.

The rain continued throughout the day. The precipitation was natural and fell in a steady drizzle that cast the land in a gray, depressing hue. Few animals ventured out under the relentless downpour. The storm had been far too long, unpredictable, and dangerous. Around the small cabin in the woods, an uneasiness warned all life forms away from the area. Few humans frequented the deep forest there because of its wild lands, wild animals, and wild legends.

In the chamber below the earth, Gregori roused himself several times, always on guard, always aware, asleep or awake, of those around him and the region surrounding them. In his mind he sought the child. She was brave and intelligent, a warm, living creature shedding a glow of light into his unrelenting darkness. His silver eyes pierced the veil of sleep to stare up at the dirt above his head. He was so close to turning, far closer than either Raven or Mikhail suspected. He was holding on by his fingernails. All feeling had left him so long ago that he could not remember warmth or happiness. He had only the power of the kill and his memories of Mikhail's friendship to keep him going. He turned his head to look at Raven's slight form.

You must live, small one. You must live to save our race, to save all of mankind. There is no one alive on this earth who could stop me. Live for me, for your parents.

Something stirred in his mind. Shocked that an unborn child could exhibit such power and intelligence, he nonetheless felt its presence, tiny, wavering, unsure. All the same the being was there, and he latched on to it, sheltered it close to his heart for a long while before he reluctantly allowed himself to sleep again.

Jacques came alert the moment the sun faded from the sky. Gregori was already gone, racing across the sky in search of prey. Jacques joined him in the hunt, needing the nourishment. They would be working with Byron today, and that meant Jacques would have to feed several times. He soared across the sky, his heart pumping and the blood rushing through his veins. He felt very alive.

We cannot leave the women unguarded for long, Jacques.

Gregori's voice shimmered in his head.

The vampire will be angry that his goal was not achieved.

Jacques sent out a call across the gray sky. It echoed silently for miles. A small cabin tucked into a grove of trees held three hunters huddled together beside a fire. He changed course immediately when he felt their presence. Gregori glided beside him. Hunting was automatic, easy, calling prey to them normal. But in this instance it was more expedient to simply go where it was.

Shea became aware of a voice. She lay silently, not certain where she was. For a moment it seemed as if everything was some far-off echo of a nightmare. But when she studied her surroundings, she knew she was in an underground chamber. Beside her, Raven lay like death. Someone had scattered earth and sweet-smelling herbs over her body.

Cautiously, testing her strength, Shea sat up and shoved impatiently at the hair spilling around her face. Her arm was sore and stung in so many places that it seemed like one massive ache. She touched her shoulder, and her hand came away sticky with blood and dirt. Wincing at the contact, Shea bent to examine Raven.

There seemed to be no pulse, no heartbeat. Her face was white and serene, very beautiful. Shea sighed. She looked the way Jacques had every time he went to sleep. Unable to do anything for the other woman, Shea stood up and stretched. She felt uneasy without Jacques and wanted to reach out to him, but she knew instinctively that he needed to feed. She studied the chamber until she figured out where the entrance was.

First she tried to find a hidden mechanism to open it. She ran her hands over every square inch. Feeling claustrophobic, her heart beginning to pound, she sank back and thought about it. Jacques would never allow her to be buried alive. There had to be a way out. She glared up at the dirt above her head and focused on it.

Open right now!

The picture was vivid in her mind, and the command was strong. Still, she was totally shocked when the earth above her parted and she could see the floorboards of the cabin.

Excited, Shea climbed out of the chamber and resealed the entrance with another sharp command. Feeling proud of her newfound powers, she entered the cabin using the trapdoor. She needed the human act of taking a shower to give her the illusion of normalcy. She doubted she would ever be able to give up her human ways entirely.

Far away, Jacques lifted his head in alarm. Blood gushed in a warm trail down the hunter's neck to his shoulder. Cursing, Jacques bent once more to feed. How had Shea woken without his permission? Was she really so strong that she could resist his commands? She should still be asleep, yet she was outside the protection of the chamber. He had to hurry.

Shea stepped off the front porch dressed in clean clothes, her hair still damp. It was impossible to find a sign of the life-and-death struggle that had taken place the morning before. She could only conclude that Gregori and Jacques had cleaned things up. It occurred to her that the Carpathians had been doing so for hundreds of years and were probably experts at it.

The thought turned her stomach, and she wandered out under the trees. The leaves collected raindrops and dumped them on her head, but she didn't mind. It made her feel a part of nature. She didn't want to go too far in case Raven needed her protection, so she walked along the pathway to her herb garden. She bent to touch a leaf, battered and bruised by the pounding storm. A shadow crossed her mind, dark and sinister. She found herself shivering uncontrollably. She straightened quickly and whirled to face the tall, pale stranger as he emerged from the forest.

He was physically beautiful, breathtaking. Shea had never seen a more handsome man. His eyes were deep set and sad, magnetic. It was impossible to tell his age. His smile held sorrow. "I am sorry I startled you. I can hear your heart beating."

Shea took an involuntary step backward, mainly because she wanted to step closer to him. His pull was strong, and she felt caught in a spell. "Who are you?" Her voice was a whisper of wonder.

"Do you not know me? I have searched the length of the world for you. Why did you not answer my call?" His words were mild, but they held a hiss of anger.

Shea held her ground, but her mouth had gone dry. "I'm sorry, I don't know you. I've never seen you before in my life."

"You woke to my call. You came here to me. You are my beloved Maggie. If your desire was to punish me with your silence, you have done so thoroughly. Now you must forgive me and come away from this place and from the one whose stench is all over you." This time, his voice dropped to a low snarl.

Shea fought down the desire to call for Jacques. "Are you Rand?"

He stepped closer to her, and her stomach lurched in protest. "How is it you do not know me? Were you injured? Has the dark one destroyed your memories and planted his own?"

Shea pressed a hand into her protesting stomach and took another step into the forest to put distance between them. "I don't understand. Why do you call Jacques the dark one? I thought that expression was reserved solely for the healer."

The hiss was deadly. "He is evil, Maggie. He and his brother tried to destroy us. I thought they had taken you from me and I was right. The crazy one plotted his revenge, and he lured you to his place of death, and now you are trapped in their web of lies." He advanced again, and, like a macabre dance partner, Shea retreated.

Was this her father? Was this Rand? Had he really been searching for Maggie, believing her alive all this time? He seemed so tormented, so sincere, she wanted to comfort him, wanted to put her arms around him and hold him, yet something held her back. "I think you're confusing me with my mother. I am Shea O'Halloran. If you are Rand, then you are my father."

"You have been with him, Maggie. You know he is capable of twisting your mind, bending you to his will. He placed memories in your head, memories you think are real. It is not so. He wanted revenge for the death of his sister. They blamed me because I loved you. They forced me into the ground and punished you by keeping us apart. It is the truth. They even took my son from me and gave him to another to raise. They turned him against me so that he was loyal only to them."

Everything seemed so hazy, her mind confused and sluggish. He was stalking her now, following her every backward movement with a forward one, bending his head closer toward her throat. She should allow him to feed, shouldn't she? Even if she wasn't Maggie, she was his daughter, and he was so alone and tormented. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his will pushing at hers, his hunger beating at both of them. She didn't want this. What was happening to her that she was standing so still, waiting for him to take her blood, when every cell in her body shrieked at her to ran?

Shea! God, love, get away from him. I do not know what he is doing, but you are in danger. Do not let him take your blood.

Jacques' voice was strong in her mind.

Shea leapt away, putting distance between herself and the tall, handsome man. "You're scaring me." As always when emotions threatened her, she forced her brain to take over, find a way out for her. "I don't know what to believe anymore. You're saying Jacques and Mikhail planned to keep us apart because you didn't love their sister?" Shea held up her hands imploringly, her large green eyes shamelessly pleading.

He halted a few feet from her, visibly relaxing now that she was seeking answers from him. "They believed me responsible for Noelle's death because I left her unprotected while I was with you. She was murdered by Slovensky and his friends."

"Did you know Slovensky?" she asked quietly, holding her breath. Could her father be responsible for all the deaths? Could he be the vampire?

"Had I ever met the man, I would have broken his neck on the spot. He and he alone is responsible for Noelle's death. I may not have loved her, but she bore me a child." He tilted his head, and it was easy to get lost in his dark, mysterious eyes.

Shea felt behind her for a solid tree trunk, needing to touch something real. This was all some gigantic spider web, so sticky with intrigue that she had no idea where to turn. Something wasn't right. She was becoming confused, her mind playing tricks on her. Deliberately she pressed her palm into the bark of the tree in an attempt to focus on something that might break the spell he was weaving around her.

J am your lifemate, my love. J am the one you turn to when you are afraid and in need.

Jacques' voice was firm, and she sensed him close by.

Shea mentally shook herself. It was like being tugged in two different directions. She knew she was Maggie's daughter. Rand might believe what he was saying, but she knew who she was. Didn't she?

Rand gave a gentle sigh. "All of us are capable of planting memories, Maggie. It is reasonable to assume they would say you are your own daughter. That way they would be able to say there was no chance we could be together. Do you not see the brilliance of such a deception, of such a revenge? It would last a lifetime."

"A Carpathian has only one lifemate. I am Jacques'." She pushed at her hair, found her hand trembling, and put it behind her back.

"He has had plenty of time to work on your memories. Years. He worked his way into your mind and then took you over. Do you really believe he could have lived all those years in that cellar?" His voice was soft and reasonable.

Her head hurt so badly, Shea could barely think. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, Rand had glided closer, was bending once more to her throat.

Get away!

Thewords were so sharp and clear, Shea scrambled away, lost her footing, and fell across a fallen log. Jacques was furious, and his rage was a hideous thing. He dropped like a silent phantom out of the sky to reach her before Rand could. His fingers closed around her arm, possessive and unyielding. As he helped her to her feet, he thrust her body behind his and faced her father.

"What are doing, Rand?" he snapped. His voice was low and ominous.

Rand smiled gently, calmly. "And do you now kill me, too? You are a bloodthirsty one, are you not? You claim I am her father, yet you are eager to slay me." He looked directly into Shea's eyes. "Does this make sense?" His voice was low and sad. "That he might want to destroy your father?"

"You are deliberately trying to confuse her." Jacques' face, worn and lined, was hardened with anger. Shea found herself studying its every beloved detail. All at once she didn't think Rand quite so handsome. There seemed something sinister about his perfect good looks and his thin-lipped smile. Rand seemed without emotion, almost lifeless, his sorrow unreal, while Jacques' powerful form was trembling with volcanic emotion. His mind was a red haze of swirling anger and fear that he might lose her, that he had inadvertently placed her in danger. The rage was toward Rand that he would betray his own daughter.

Rand sighed softly and shook his head. "How easily you allow yourself to be tricked by this dark vampire. Your own neck holds the answers you seek. The wounds there are torn and ragged. Who but a vampire feeds so carelessly? Does a loving lifemate abuse his woman in this manner? When he killed this morning, using your innocence and your very mind and soul to aid him, was he not feeling joy? When you begged him to stop, did he not continue? And when he came to you with blood on his hands, could you not see the dark desire and hunger in his mind, in his eyes, in his body? Could you not see the dark compulsion of the kill? Vampires are very clever, my dear, and you have fallen under his spell."

Jacques regarded the older man with black, empty eyes. "Do you challenge me?"

Shea gasped. Jacques and her father? She pressed both hands to her head. She couldn't stand this confrontation, being fought over like some dog's bone. She didn't even know what was true and what wasn't anymore.

Yes, you do, little red hair. He is attempting to bewitch you. He thought me occupied with Byron. He thought he could lure you from the safety of our people. He will not accept a fair challenge.

Jacques attempted to reassure her. She was fighting to stay calm, but Shea had suffered far too much trauma in the last few days. Jacques was certain Rand had not only planned for that but also counted on it to sway her.

Rand's smile was calm. "I would not wish to cause Maggie any further grief. But be warned, dark one, you would be hunted and destroyed if Mikhail were not your brother. You have deceived and hurt this woman I love, and I will not allow you to get away with it. But I would not be the cause of her further distress."

Jacques bared his fangs. "I was certain you would say something of that nature. You prefer to do your dirty work through trickery."

Rand raised an eyebrow. "Listen to him, my dear. Next he will be accusing me of associating with the human murderers. Are you going to say I tried to kill Byron? What about Noelle? Perhaps I was responsible for what happened to you and my own son, too. You are the vampire, Jacques, and you are powerful enough to deceive one such as Gregori. I would be a fool to fight you when you are holding Maggie hostage."

Shea clutched at the back of Jacques' shirt. "Rand, you're wrong about him. I look like Maggie, but I'm your daughter. And I would know if he was truly a vampire."

Rand looked at her with sad eyes. "How many times have you asked yourself what he is? Did you not feel his joy in the kill? He wanted it, welcomed it, and he fed voraciously. You cannot deny this is so. Who better than Jacques to set this entire thing up? Noelle was his sister, and he adored her. He led the others away from you and from his brother's woman. He killed the humans because they could identify him." He bowed his head tiredly. "I cannot convince you, I know this, but in time you will see that I am right. Tell me, Maggie, did you not see me differently when he arrived? Perhaps more like a villain? I wonder who projected that image to you? I doubt that I would have done so myself."

"Her mind was calmer and able to see more clearly with my presence, as you well know. Be gone, Rand, back to the hole you crawled from." Jacques gestured, his face dark with anticipation, his body poised and ready should Rand attack.

Rand simply faded from their sight, his soft laughter sending shivers down Shea's spine. Instantly she stepped away from Jacques, her green eyes not meeting his.

With gentle fingers he tipped up her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. "I love you, Shea. I have no way to combat the lies he has told until we can be free of my debt to Byron. Reserve judgment until I am able to talk this out with you."

His voice was so loving, his touch so tender, it turned her heart over. She found herself drowning in the mesmerizing depth of his black eyes. She wanted to do whatever he wished. Her body responded to his, to the tormented look of him, to the desperate hunger in him. Her body flared to life and called to his, going soft and pliant with anticipation. Her breasts ached, and she burned for his touch.

Shea jerked her gaze away, stepped back so that his body heat could not affect hers, so that the electricity crackling and arcing between them was broken. Shaken, she shoved a trembling hand through her hair. "How are you going to convince me, Jacques? With sex?"

He was smoldering with need, a dark hunger that never ceased. Once it had risen, it had grown until the urgency nearly overwhelmed him. She was essentially human and could not understand, did not even know of the heat that rose between lifemates. "Love, you are smart enough for the both of us. You can figure out for yourself who is telling the truth. Rand is sick. I wish it was not so, but if he truly believed you to be your mother, he would have attacked me immediately. A lifemate can do no other than guard his woman. That has been our way for all time. No other man can be with her. He is trading on your ignorance of Carpathian ways. I do not need to convince you of what is in my heart or of what is in yours. I know I am damaged. You know it, too. But you would feel it if I was truly evil. You would know it. There would be no way I could hide it." He held out a hand to her. "Just think it through with that logical brain you have. I trust you to come up with your own answer."

"Jacques." She hesitated, wanting to touch him, needing to touch him, but afraid of being lost in the sexual lure she couldn't seem to resist. "How do I know if I'm the one thinking for myself when you're always with me, always sharing my mind?"

"You will have to figure that out for yourself. Shea." His black eyes moved lovingly over her face. "You know me better than anyone, and I have never tried to hide anything from you. If you brand me a monster, even I will believe you." His smile was gentle and reassuring.

Shea took a deep breath and laced her fingers with his. It felt right and natural. The sparks jumped from his skin to hers, and her pulse raced, but she walked quietly through the woods with him, content just to be by his side. Jacques seemed so much a part of her, the air she breathed. She accepted it because he made her complete.