Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

clever, our vampire," Mikhail said. "We are definitely expected, though not, I should think, until tonight. Perhaps his human friends have gone for supplies, thinking they have the entire day to torment Byron without fear of interference."
    "I do not know, Mikhail. Something here makes me uneasy," Gregori warned. "Something not quite right."
    "I feel it also," Jacques agreed, "although I cannot explain what it is exactly. It is as if this is all prearranged, and we are walking into a spider's web. I know this place. I can feel the pain and torment as if it was happening all over again." And he was, his insides writhing and his gut clenching. It was difficult to maintain his outward calm when his flesh crawled and pain tore at him, splintering his mind so that he didn't know what was real and what was part of his never-ending nightmare.
    "Perhaps you are feeling Byron's pain," Mikhail suggested with concern. Jacques' face remained impassive, but the lines in his skin deepened, and crimson smeared his forehead.
    Jacques, are you hurt? I will come to you. Shea's soft voice swirled in his mind, caught fragments of his thoughts and seemed to piece him back together. She was, as always, his one and only anchor to reality.
    Stay there, but stay connected to me, Shea. Being so close to this place is disorienting me. I need you to keep me together. He was begging, but Jacques had no choice. She was his lifemate, and her presence in his mind could mean the difference between success and failure to their mission. He did not want to be the cause of the others' deaths.
    A grim smile touched Gregori's sensual mouth, his silver eyes humorless and pierced with dangerous light. "They mean to capture us, Mikhail. Us, the two most powerful-of our kind. Perhaps they need a real demonstration in power."
    Jacques glanced at Mikhail uneasily. Maybe it was the way his body was remembering every burn, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    every slash. With age the pain became more intense, if one could feel. Unlike a vampire, a Carpathian was capable of tremendous sensation. Jacques had suffered what no man, human or Carpathian, should have endured. It wasn't even in the name of science, just a sadist bent on inflicting as much pain as possible.
    Come back, Jacques . Shea's voice was filled with concern.
    I cannot. I cannot leave Byron to suffer my fate.
    I can feel your pain, Jacques. You are having a hard time concentrating on what you're doing.
    Your mind is very scattered. Of what use are you to Byron if you get caught? Come back to me.
    I will get him out of there. Just stay with me, Shea. Jacques concentrated on her, held her strength and warmth in his mind to fight the growing pain. The ground seemed to roll beneath his feet; the rain pounded down on him. His flesh was burning; he could smell it. Cuts opened up and bled freely. He caught at his chest as pain ripped through him, tearing muscles and bone. His throat closed off; breathing became impossible. His heart pounded until he felt it had to explode.
    "Jacques!" Gregori gripped his arm. "It is part of the trap set for you specifically. The vampire knew you would come, and you are caught in the web. He is amplifying your own fears and the pain you suffered.
    He is not here; it is merely a warp you are trapped in. Know it is not real, and fight your way out."
    "I do not understand." Pinpricks of scarlet dotted Jacques' body, stained his shirt. His eyes were alive with pain and madness.
    I do. Shea snatched at the information in his mind. She wrapped him in the warmth of her love. Feel me, Jacques. Concentrate only on me and what you feel when we touch, when we kiss. She pictured it in her head, him holding her so possessively, so tenderly, his mouth finding hers hungrily. The way she felt, hot and silken with heat, needing and wanting him. Her mouth as hungry as his. Her hands tangled in his thick hair. Feel me, Jacques. Her whisper moved over his skin like the touch of her fingers.
    Jacques narrowed his focus until he blocked out everything but the smell and taste of her, the touch of her fingers, her soft, sexy voice. She became his world, was his world, would always be. Nothing else was real. She was his heart and his very breath. Her breathing regulated his back to a steady in and out.
    Her heart brought the rhythm of his slowly back to a normal pattern. His skin was on fire, but with sensual hunger rather than the pain of torture.
    Her