Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

"Please forgive us for using you to stop Slovensky and Wallace. We could not allow them to kill Raven or snatch you, as was their intention. Raven could not help us, so we turned to you. It was wrong to use you without your consent, but time did not allow the luxury of asking your permission. Your lifemate could do no other than protect your life, and from that distance it is impossible to do anything without seeing through another's eyes."
    Mikhail was eloquent and sincere, and Shea could not be angry with him. She sighed and bit her lower lip. "I wish it hadn't happened that way, Mikhail, but I'm glad Raven is alive."
    "I do not understand how those two humans were able to disguise their presence from us. I monitored Raven continually," Mikhail said. "The two of you should never have been in any danger. I scanned the surroundings; Gregori scanned, as did Jacques. A vampire might be able to confuse us, but certainly the humans could not."
    "I, too, scanned." Raven stirred weakly, her voice a thin thread. "I detected no danger to us, yet Shea was uneasy and certain we were not alone almost from the beginning. I dismissed her fears, thinking her separation from Jacques the cause."
    "It was only Shea who could detect the vampire in the woods," Jacques said.

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    Shea found herself the center of attention. Instinctively she moved toward Jacques. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his body protective toward hers. "I know you're all thinking it was Rand. I don't want it to be him. I want to have a family."
    "You have a family," Mikhail said gently. "I am your family. Raven is your family. Our child will be, and of course you have Jacques. Someday you will have children." He sent a slight grin in Gregori's direction.
    "You can even claim the healer as family. We do, although he dislikes it intensely. We are together, and we are close. These past several days are not a real example of what our existence is like. We are under attack, and must defend ourselves. Most of the time our life is much like that of the human world. Do not judge us by recent days. These are exceptional times."
    "Maybe Byron can tell us who betrayed him," Shea suggested desperately. "Can't we wait for what he has to say before we condemn Rand?" What was it that bothered her so much? And what was it Rand said had?
    Jacques held her close. "No one wants it to be Rand, little red hair, and you can be assured no one will act without certain proof."
    Shea knew he was seeking to reassure her, even as he believed implicitly that her father was the betrayer. Some part of her knew it to be true. Away from Rand, she was able to see things more clearly.
    He wasn't just a man confused and tormented by her mother's death. He could be a calculating, cold killer.
    Shea closed her eyes, unable to face where her thoughts were going. Jacques could not be the one to take Rand's life. He just couldn't. Warmth flooded her mind, and his arm tightened protectively around her. There is no need for me to hunt Rand should he prove to be the vampire preying on our people. The others can take care of it. We can go far from this place if that is your desire, my love.
    If Rand was the vampire, the betrayer, Jacques would have more reason than anyone to want to ruthlessly destroy him. Yet she could not bear the idea. Thank you, Jacques. I don't want you to be the one to take his life if it really comes to that.
    Let us go to Byron, and I will do as I promised. Then we will find a place to rest.
    Shea nodded, her head brushing his chest. She could hear the reassuring beat of his heart, feel the heat in his body rising to meet hers. He was solid and real, and she owed it to both of them to take things slowly and make rational decisions. Right at this moment, Shea was not certain she was capable of such a thing.
    Her brilliant brain seemed to be malfunctioning lately.
    "We go to Byron, healer—do you follow?" Jacques asked.
    Gregori reluctantly left Raven to Mikhail. A woman could not be possibly be claimed before her eighteenth birthday.
    Every moment of the healer's existence would be an endurance test, living in hell until the child came of age. He would hunt and feed and resist the kill unless he was called on to dispense justice. That would be the most dangerous of all times, walking away from the power of taking a life. And somewhere, close by, Rand was waiting.
    As Gregori turned to follow Jacques and