Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

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.

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    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.
    I am your family, Jacques comforted her gently, his chin rubbing lovingly over the top of her head.
    He was the young man in the second photograph Wallace and Smith showed me. I know he was.
    Shea laid her head wearily against his chest. I felt such wrenching pain when I saw the photograph.
    I am sorry, Shea. So much has happened. You need time to absorb all this.
    Puzzled by her obvious distress, Mikhail glanced at Gregori, who shrugged his broad shoulders rather elegantly.

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    "What of Rand, his father?" Jacques voiced the question for Shea, although the name sent pain splintering through his head, evoked a black, empty hole where memory should have been.
    "Rand went to ground for a quarter of a century. He rose last year, but he keeps to himself. He sleeps most of the time," Mikhail answered.
    Shea's fingers curled in Jacques'. "He did not raise his own son?"
    When Mikhail shook his head, Shea swallowed the hard knot of protest blocking her throat and glanced