Jacques And Shea Quotes

“Her fingertip traced his smile. “I’m sorry I was so crazy about the healer giving me blood, but I really can’t stand it yet, even thinking about it. When we’re together, it seems different, something beautiful and natural, but the thought of anyone else—” Her stomach lurched, and she broke off.
Jacques’ mouth skimmed her face, settled on her lips for a brief, disturbing moment. “I understand. I am stronger now, little red hair. I can care for you properly.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she frowned. “That isn’t exactly what I meant. Don’t go all macho on me. That would make me sicker than finding some cute human male to feed off.”
She was teasing him. Intellectually he knew it, but for a moment a red haze of jealousy clouded his mind. Rage welled up, and he forced it under control. He knew immediately that he was lucky she didn’t want to take sustenance from another man. Something in his fragmented mind, or perhaps it was his possessive nature, would not stand for it. No man, human or Carpathian, was going to be completely safe until he learned to control his fear of losing her. Jacques raked a hand through his hair. “I have a long way to go before I will be normal again.”
She burst out laughing. “No one has said you ever were normal, Jacques.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I do love you.” He said it suddenly, raising his head so his black eyes could meet her startled green ones. “I mean it, Shea. I do not just need you, I love you. I know everything about you, I have been in your head, shared your memories, shared your dreams and your ideas. I know you think I need you and that is why I am with you, but it is much more than that. I love you.” He grinned unexpectedly, traced her lower lip with the tip of a finger. “What is more, I know you love me. You hide it from yourself, but I found it in a little corner, tucked away in your mind.”
Shea stared up at the teasing smile on his face, then pushed at the solid wall of his chest. “You’re making that up.”
Jacques moved off her, then reached down to pull her to her feet. His clothes were scattered everywhere, and he made no move to retrieve them. Shea’s shirt was still hanging open, and her jeans were down around her ankles. Blushing, she pulled them up. His hands stayed hers, preventing her from fastening them. “Do not bother, Shea. The pools are just ahead.” He walked a few feet, then looked back over his shoulder. “I did not make it up, and I know you are staring at my backside.”
Shea tossed her mane of red hair so that it flew in all directions. “Any woman in her right mind would stare at your particular backside, so you don’t need to add that to your arrogant list of virtues. And stay out of my mind unless you’re invited.” She was staring, but she couldn’t help it. He was so beautifully masculine.
Jacques reached behind him and captured her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I find the most interesting things in your mind, my love. Things you do not have any intention of telling me.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“His black eyes smoldered, a velvet seduction. I need a dream to rid myself of nightmares.
She backed away from him, holding a palm outward to ward him off. “Just you keep your ideas to yourself,” she warned. “You have that devil’s look, the one that says no woman is safe.”
That is not true, Shea, he denied, the hard edge of his mouth softening into temptation. Only one woman. You.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Through the open doorway suddenly stepped a small woman, long ebony hair braided intricately, huge blue eyes flashing at Mikhail. As Byron shouldered his way inside behind her, she gave him a friendly smile and stood on her toes to brush his chin with a kiss.
Mikhail stiffened, then immediately wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. “Carpathian women do not do that kind of thing,” he reprimanded her.
She tilted her chin at him, in no way intimidated. “That’s because Carpathian males have such a territorial mentality— you know, a beat-their-chest, swing-from-the-trees sort of thing.” She turned her head to look at the couple lying on the floor. Her indrawn breath was audible.
“Jacques.” She whispered his name, tears in her voice and in her blue eyes. “It really is you.” Eluding Mikhail’s outstretched, detaining hand, she ran to him.
Let her, Gregori persuaded softly. Look at him.
Jacques’ gaze was fastened on the woman’s face, the red flames receding from his eyes as she approached.
“I’m Raven, Jacques. Don’t you remember me? Mikhail, your brother, is my lifemate.” Raven dropped to her knees beside the couple. “Thank God you’re alive. I can’t believe how lucky we are. Who did this to you? Who took you from us?”
Shea felt the ripple of awareness in her mind. Jacques’ shock. His curiosity. He recognized those tear-filled blue eyes. Shea caught a glimpse, a fragment of memory, the woman bending over him, her hands clamped to his throat, pressing soil and saliva into a pumping wound. Shea held her breath, waiting. Jacques’ silent cry of despair echoed in her head. She forced herself to move, found his hand with hers, silently supporting him as she regarded the woman kneeling beside her.
You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful, Shea reprimanded deliberately.
In the midst of Jacques’ pain and agony, his possessive fury and maniacal madness, something seemed to melt the ice-cold core of murderous resolve. The urge to smile at that feminine, edgy tone came out of nowhere. Something snarling to be set free retreated, and the tension in him eased visibly. Is she? Jacques asked innocently.
Shea’s green eyes touched his face, and warmth spread further inside him. And the beast was temporarily leashed.
“Is this your lifemate, Jacques?” Raven asked softly.
Shea looked at her then, this woman who had been a part of Jacques’ life. “I’m Shea O’Halloran.” Her voice was husky and ragged. “Jacques has been unable to use his voice since I found him.”
Raven touched Shea’s bruised throat with gentle fingers. “Someone had better tell me what happened here.” Her blue eyes were studying the dark smudges closely.
“Help her to the bed,” Gregori interceded, distracting Raven from her study. You owe me one, old friend, he sent to Mikhail.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“She went to move around Jacques, strongly objecting to the this woman label. She did have a name. She was a person. She had a feeling they all thought her the hysterical type. She certainly hadn’t managed to show them her normal calm self.
Jacques stepped backward and his arm swept behind him to pin her against the wall. He never took his eyes from the trio before them. He knew he was unstable, still fighting to hold on to reason when his every instinct was to attack. He trusted none of them and would not allow Shea to be put in any danger.
Shea retaliated with a hard pinch. She was not going to cower behind her wild man like some seventeenth-century heroine fainting with the vapors. So she was surrounded by a few vampires. Big deal.
Carpathians. Jacques sounded amused.
If you laugh at me, Jacques, I might find another wooden stake and come after you myself, she warned him silently. “Well, for heaven’s sake.” Shea sounded exasperated as she addressed the group. “We’re all civilized, aren’t we?” She shoved at Jacques’ broad back. “Aren’t we?”
“Absolutely.” Raven stepped forward, ignoring Mikhail’s restraining hand. “At least the women are. The men around here haven’t quite graduated from the swinging-through-trees stage yet.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Do you want me, Shea?” This time his voice was hesitant, as if for all his strength, for all his power, one word from her would bring him crashing down. He was kneeling at her feet, his beloved face— so ravaged by torment, so beautifully male, so sensually Carpathian— staring up at her. He was lost without her; it was there for her to see. Raw. Stark. His total vulnerability. For just one moment the wind seemed to cease, and the storm held itself still as if the very skies were awaiting her answer.
“You can’t possibly know how much I want you, Jacques, even if you’re reading my mind.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I want you to lie beside me. His voice was a sinful caress, enticing, insistent.
“I think you can manage all by yourself,” she answered, refusing to look into his dark, hypnotic eyes. Instead, she shut off her computer and the generator and locked the door.
I have nightmares, little red hair. The only way to keep them at bay is to have you close beside me. He sounded very earnest, innocent, hopeful.
Shea found herself smiling as she poured him another unit of blood. She was beginning to think the devil himself had shown up at her doorstep. Jacques was temptation incarnate. “I removed a stake from your heart just a couple of nights ago, and you have a major wound there. If I move around while I sleep, I could easily bump into you and start it bleeding again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
He took the container from her hand, his fingers curling around the glass precisely over the spot where her fingers had been. He did things like that, intimate things that sent butterfly wings brushing deep within her. Not my heart, Shea. They did not get me in the heart, as they should have. It is here within my body— can you not hear it? Your heart beats with the same rhythm so that it matches mine.
“Were you a playboy before they buried you?” she asked him, tossing a mischievous grin over her shoulder. Shea checked her gun to make certain it was clean and loaded. “You need to drink that, Jacques, not just hold it. And then go back to sleep. The more rest you get, the faster you’ll heal.”
You persist in being my doctor when I so need my lifemate to come and lie beside me. Again his voice was temptation itself.
“Drink, Jacques.” She tried to sound stern, but it was impossible when he was looking so desperate for her company.
I am desperate.
She couldn’t help but shake her head. “You’re outrageous.”
He made an attempt to raise the glass to his mouth, but his arm wobbled. I cannot lift this without your aid, Shea. I am too weak.
“Am I supposed to believe you?” She laughed aloud but crossed to his side.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I didn’t think things through, you know. I just rushed out and rescued you. I caused you great suffering.” Her large green eyes fastened on his face. Storm clouds gathered instantly when she felt his faint, mocking amusement echoing through her mind. “What? What’s so funny? Some idiot tried to put a stake through your heart, and he didn’t even hit the darn thing!”
For which I am grateful. And I am even more grateful that you rescued me. I did not like being imprisoned and in such pain.
“I guess I’m glad I rescued you, too, but the truth is, Jacques, I have watched you healing faster than is possible. You’re even more dangerous now. You are, aren’t you?”
Never to you, he denied.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“He caught her hand, his thumb feathering across the inside of her wrist. I am not a vampire. I have not turned.
“I don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes, smiled in his mind. She was back to using her professional, scientific voice. You were worried that I had turned. Earlier, in the woods, you were afraid I was a vampire. Just now you thought our people might be vampire. We are Carpathian, not the undead. Unless we turn.
“Would you stay out of my head? Wait until you’re invited.”
If I waited for an invitation from you, little red hair, I would be centuries old before it ever came about. The smile in his mind was just a little too sexy for her peace of mind. I was merely attempting to ease your fears. Now he sounded innocent.
She laughed softly. “Do I have naïve stamped on my forehead?”
Has anyone ever complained about your bedside manner?
Shea raised her eyebrows. “I’m a surgeon. I don’t need a bedside manner. And in any case, I’ve never had such an outrageous patient before. Stop calling me red hair. And little red hair. And all the other things you call me. Dr. O’Halloran is appropriate.”
For the first time his sensuous mouth softened, curved into a grin. The effect on her was shattering. It wasn’t right for a male to look that sexy. He should be banned from all female company.
Handsome and sexy. I must be getting somewhere after all. His tone was lazy, teasing, a little bit husky.
Shea laughed softly. It was impossible to be annoyed with him when he was in this mood. “You are handsome and sexy, but don’t let it go to your head. You’re also arrogant, dominating, and too ruthless for my taste.” She squashed him without a qualm.
Jacques tugged on her hand, drew her close to the bed so that he could bring her palm to the warmth of his mouth. I am exactly to your taste.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“She yanked her hand away as if he had burned her, rubbing her palm along her thigh. The feeling didn’t go away, and neither did the butterflies he had sent winging in her stomach. “How do you know you’re not a vampire?” She needed to distract him, distract both of them. “Maybe you forgot. You’re certainly capable of acting like one.”
This time he laughed, startling both of them. The sound was husky, low, and foreign to his ears, as if he had forgotten what it was like. His black eyes leapt to her face almost in fear.
“Not bad, wild man. First a growl, and now a laugh. We’re making progress.” Her eyes danced at him, reassured him.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Wait until I am stronger and can go with you to protect you.
She shook her head. “You keep getting mixed up. I’m supposed to be protecting you. I’m your doctor.”
You are my lifemate. There is only one. You are mine. Only one.
She lifted her head, green eyes searching his face. “You’ve never lived with a woman? You must have had sex.”
Carpathians do not live with any other than their lifemate. Sex is a simple sharing of the body, a pleasure that fades along with emotions after two hundred years if we do not find our lifemate.
“I don’t understand. Without a lifemate, Carpathians feel nothing?”
Nothing, Shea. Not affection or remorse, not right or wrong. Certainly not desire. After two hundred years Carpathian males cannot feel.
Color flooded her face. “You feel desire when you’re with me. I may not be experienced, but I do have medical training.”
His fingers tightened around hers, his breath warm along her knuckles. I want you with every cell in my body, with my mind and my heart. Your soul is the other half of mine. When you are with me, I feel. Joy, desire, anger, even laughter. You are my lifemate. I have waited over eight hundred years to find you. I could not see color until you came into my life. His black eyes, worn with suffering, fastened on her green ones. I cannot lose you. I can never be alone again. Mortals and immortals alike would be in danger should I lose you.
She didn’t want to touch that. She murmured his name softly, brushed a kiss against his temple almost without knowing it.
I cannot exist without you, little red hair. There is darkness in me. The beast is strong. I struggle every moment against loss of control. My lifemate is my anchor. Only you can save me, keep me from walking in complete madness.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Our bond is growing stronger with each blood exchange, with each passing moment we are together.
“So if we were apart I might stop wanting to be around you?” she teased. “If I had known it was that simple, I would have sat outside most of the time.”
He caressed her silky hair. I will allow you to do this thing, but do not— he broke off the thought abruptly.
But not before Shea caught the echo of the primitive, territorial male. Her eyebrows shot up. Sometimes he reminded her more of a wild animal than a man. “Less of this allow stuff. It offends my independent nature.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I am Gregori, Jacques.” Gregori’s voice was power itself, yet soft and soothing. “A healer for our people.”
Shea was lying across Jacques, her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She groaned— a low, husky sound that added fuel to Jacques’ rage. His fingers brushed the dark smudges along her swollen throat, and he turned a murderous gaze on Mikhail.
“Leave us alone.” Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and raw. She did not open her eyes or try to move.
“I can help him,” Gregori persisted, using his same compelling tone. The woman was so obviously the key to reaching Jacques. It was in the way he held her, the protective posture of his body, the way his eyes moved possessively, even tenderly, over her face. His hands were continually caressing her, stroking her hair, her skin.
At the underlying command in Gregori’s beautiful voice, her long eyelashes lifted, and she studied his face. He was savagely beautiful, a blend of elegance and untamed beast. He looked more dangerous than the other two strangers did. Shea made an effort to swallow, but it hurt. “You look like an ax murderer to me.”
This one has brains. Mikhail’s soft laughter echoed in Gregori’s head. She sees beyond that handsome face of yours.
You are so funny, ancient one. Gregori deliberately reminded him of the quarter of a century difference in their ages.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Gregori glided closer to the couple, his graceful elegance failing to conceal the rippling strength of his muscles and the power emanating from his body. He looked totally confident, relaxed, completely fearless.
The soft rumbling in Jacques’ throat increased; his fingers tightened possessively, crushing bones and tendon in Shea’s upper arm. Gregori stopped moving immediately. “I am sorry, woman, I know you are weak, but you will have to move to the other side of him or he will not allow me to help,” Gregori instructed calmly. What we need, Mikhail, is Raven’s calming influence. You look about as reassuring as a Bengal tiger.
Oh, and you look like a bunny rabbit, Mikhail scoffed.
“You could have brought Raven along,” Gregori chided softly, aloud. “You bring her along on every other dangerous thing she should not be involved in.” That was a clear reprimand. “You might have brought her where she could actually do some good.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Shea blinked back tears, found his wrist with trembling fingers, the lightest contact, a connection between them. “We make such a perfect pair, Jacques. At least one of us should be stable, don’t you think?”
He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. “You came for me, from thousands of miles away. You came for me.”
She managed a smile. “A few years late.”
Something eased in the vicinity of his heart. He knew there was no escape for either of them. He might not understand fully, but he knew he had bound them irrevocably together for all time. “Is there not a saying, ‘Better late than never’?” His thumb feathered over her wrist, found her pulse.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Very gently Jacques lowered her feet to the ground, retaining possession of her waist to help her trembling legs hold her up. Shea raised a hand to push back her rain-slick hair. He caught her fingers and raised her palm to his mouth. “You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”
She smiled, shook her head at him. “You’re crazy, you know that? This is one of the most magnificent lightning storms I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t even notice until now.”
He grinned at her suggestively, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Says something.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “You’re crazy, and I must be, too.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Holding each other, the rain cooling their bodies, they laughed like children. “I expected steam this time,” Jacques said, crushing her to him.
“Can you do that?” Shea fit the back of her head into the niche of his sternum. One hand idly slid over the heavy muscles of his chest.
“Make us so hot we turn the rain to steam?” He grinned boyishly down at her, for the first time so carefree that he forgot for a moment the torment he had suffered. She made him invincible. She made him vulnerable. Most of all, she made him alive.
“No, really— what they did, those others. They were like fog or mist. Can you really do that?” Shea persisted. “I mean, you said you could, but I thought maybe you were delusional.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Delusional?” Jacques flashed a cocky grin, held out his arm, and watched as fur rippled along the length of it, as the fingers curved and extended into claws. He had to make a grab for Shea as she scrambled away from him, her eyes enormous. Jacques was careful not to hurt her with his strength.
“Stop laughing at me, you brute. That’s not exactly normal.” A slow smile was beginning to curve her soft mouth. She couldn’t help but be happy for the innocent joy he found in each piece of information that came to him, each new memory of his gifts.
“It is normal for us, love. We can shape-shift whenever we like.”
She made a face. “You mean all those hideous stories are true? Rats and bats and slimy worm things?”
“Now, why would I want to be a slimy worm thing?” He was openly laughing. The sound startled him; he couldn’t remember laughing aloud.
“Very funny, Jacques. I’m so glad you find this amusing.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Hunted what?” Shea held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
“Beautiful women, little one, and I was the one who found you after all.” His white teeth gleamed at her, a definite leer.
“Don’t put me off like that.” She had already taken advantage, sliding easily into his mind and picking out the pictures of danger and revulsion. Fear even. Not so much of their adversary, but of themselves turning into the very thing they sought to destroy.
Jacques, unprepared for her entrance into his mind, had been confident he could keep the grimmer side of their existence watered down for her. Shea had always been reluctant to enter his mind; it hadn’t occurred to him that she would do so whenever she wanted.
His expression was so rueful that Shea burst out laughing. “Where I grew up, that’s called being caught with your pants down.”
He looked down at his body, glistening with the rain. His grin was self-mocking, his black eyes amused. “Literally.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“No one will ever harm you. Not ever. They may attempt to do so, but they will not survive.” He took a deep breath before his confession. “I was not aware that you were not Carpathian. I was not capable of knowing much at all at that time. I inadvertently converted you. I would like to say I am sorry, but in truth, I am not. I did not know what I was doing, and I hope I would have done it differently had I known better, but you are my life, Shea. There is no existence for me without you. I would have nothing to live for except revenge, and I would become the undead. I do not want to be vampire, preying on humans and Carpathians alike. You are my salvation.”
She pushed him away from her. The rain swept over her face as she lifted emerald eyes filled with laughter to his. “That’s it? That’s your big apology? I can see you’re not going to be a candy-and-flowers man.” She set off quickly. “Don’t talk to me, you uncivilized maniac. I don’t even want to hear the sound of your voice.”
Jacques forced back the smile that seemed so ready to curve his hard mouth. Shea had a way of making even dangerous situations seem a game where laughter was always close at hand. She managed to find ways to make his madness, the terrible, unforgivable way he had treated her at their first meeting, seem casual. “Can I put my arm around you?” Even while his eyes scanned, they held a gleam of merriment.
“You’re talking. I said don’t talk to me.” Shea tried sticking her nose in the air, but it felt ridiculous, and she dissolved into undignified giggles.
His arm curved around her slender waist and locked her under his shoulder. “I am sorry. I did not mean to speak when you asked me not to. Turn here. I’m going to have to carry you up.”
“Don’t talk. You always get your way when you talk.” She walked with him a few more yards and stopped, staring up a sheer cliff face that seemed to go up forever. There had been no division between the forest and the rock face to warn her. “Up what? Not that.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I feel another argument coming on.” His mocking amusement might not have shown on his face, but she could feel it in her mind. Jacques simply lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder.
“No way, you wild man. You aren’t Tarzan. I don’t like heights. Put me down.”
“Close your eyes. Who is Tarzan? Not another male, I hope.”
The wind rushed over her body, and she could feel them moving fast, so fast the world seemed to blur. She closed her eyes and clutched at him, afraid to do anything else. His laughter was happy and carefree, and it warmed her heart, dispelling any residue of fear she carried. It was a miracle to her that he could laugh, that he was happy.
Tarzan is the ultimate male. He swings through trees and carries his woman off into the jungle.
He patterns himself after me.
She nuzzled his back. He tries.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I can read your thoughts. The amusement was soft and caressing, wrapping her up in strong arms.
I was perfectly sane and sensible until I met you. Now look at me. I’m crawling around inside a mountain. Suddenly she stopped and held herself perfectly still. I’m hearing something. Tell me you are not taking me into a cave full of bats. Say it right now, Jacques, or I’m out of here.
I am not taking you into cave filled with bats.
Shea relaxed visibly. She was not squeamish about very many things, but bats were creatures that were on the earth to remain a safe distance away from her. Miles away. Bats were one of those things she could stare up at in the night sky and think how interesting and wonderful they were, as long as they stayed high above her and nowhere close. Her nose wrinkled. The sounds she was trying to ignore were getting louder. Her heart began to pound in alarm. The walls of the passageway were so narrow, she had no way to move fast. All at once she felt trapped, as if she was suffocating.
I’m going back, Jacques. I’m not a cave person. She did her best to sound firm and matter-of-fact, not at all as if she were seconds from screaming her head off. She turned her head cautiously to keep from scraping her face on the jutting surfaces.
His fingers circled her wrist like a vise. There must be no disturbance. If any creatures exit the cave or warn others of our existence here, we could be found.
A piece of paper couldn’t fit in here, certainly not a person. No one is going to look for us here.
A vampire would know the moment bats flew from the cave.
Bats can’t fly out of here if there aren’t any in here, now, can they? She was sweetly reasonable.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“I will not expose you to these men.”
“Give it a rest, Jacques. I mean it. We’re in this thing together. I hate to brag and put you at an obvious disadvantage, but I can take more of the sun than you.”
His hand caressed the nape of her neck. “That doesn’t mean I will allow you to be exposed to danger.”
Shea burst out laughing. “Just being with you is dangerous, you idiot. You’re dangerous.” She shook back her hair, her chin lifting a bit defiantly. “In any case, I can feel the vampire and you cannot. Neither, it seems, could Byron. Maybe the others won’t be able to either. You need me.”
Reluctantly Jacques was allowing her to pull him toward the cave entrance. “Why do I never win an argument with you? I cannot allow you to be in danger, yet we are walking into the dawn and facing brutal killers when we are at our lowest strength. In the afternoon, Shea, we will be completely vulnerable, at their mercy, at the mercy of the sun. Both of us will be.”
“Then we’ll just have to be in a safe place by then. Contact the others, Jacques, tell them what’s going on.”
“I think you just want to get out of this cave. You would rather face a vampire and human killers than a few little bats.” He tugged at her wild mane of hair.
She flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “You’ve got that right. And don’t you ever turn into a bat.” She shuddered. “Or a rat.”
“We could get kinky and see how bats and rats make love,” he suggested in a whisper, warm breath against her neck.
“You are a sick man, Jacques. Very, very sick.” The passage was narrowing again, taking her breath. At least Jacques was complying, even if he was grousing a bit.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Bring her back, Mikhail. Go after her. Guide her back. This is too dangerous for her. Even with my connection to her, she is trapped,” Gregori said. “We are dealing with more than just any vampire. This one is skilled in the black arts and the use of herbs and power stones. I know what he has done and how he is doing it.”
Mikhail pulled Raven tightly against him, his black eyes hard with mental strain. Raven blinked, looked around her, seemed surprised to find herself in the rain. Her hand went to her temple in a gesture of pain. “Stop staring at me. I feel like some kind of freak show.” She sounded hurt, hid her face on Mikhail’s chest.
His arms circled her, drew her into the shelter of his body, his head bent lovingly toward hers. It was such an intimate gesture, Shea had to turn away. To her dismay, she found the healer studying her. Shea moved closer to Jacques, unconsciously seeking protection from the scrutiny.
“You need nourishment.” The healer spoke gently.
“When I’m hungry, I’ll eat,” Shea told him haughtily. “You don’t need to worry about all of us. I know how to care for myself.”
The silvery eyes slashed through the lie. “Your hunger radiates from you, and your weakness could place all of us in jeopardy.” He turned his powerful stare on Raven.
Raven squirmed visibly. “Oh, shut up, Gregori,” she snapped, her blue eyes flashing fire at him.
A faint smile curved his mouth, failing to light his eyes. “I did not speak.”
“You spoke volumes, and you know it.” Her chin went up belligerently. “Your male sense of superiority is enough to make a woman want to scream. Honestly, Gregori, all that cold logic makes a person crazy.” She allowed Mikhail to lead her onto the porch.
“Logic works, unlike emotional women,” Gregori returned unruffled. “Your first duty is to protect your child. Our first duty must be to protect you.” His silver gaze clearly censured Mikhail.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“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.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Jacques lifted his head, his thumb trailing over her lip, her throat, to the tip of her right breast. “These caves are deep and go on for miles. It is easy to get lost and simply disappear. Few humans come near this place. It has a reputation of being dangerous.” His hand caressed her soft skin. “Take off your jeans.”
She smiled up at him. “I can see it is dangerous. Now, why would I want to do something that is obviously going to get me in big trouble?”
His hand stroked her waist, traced each rib under her satin skin. He could feel her tremble in answer. “Because I want you to. Because you want to please me.”
Shea laughed out loud, her eyebrows winging upward. “Oh, really? That’s what I want to do?”
He nodded solemnly. “Above all else.”
She moved away from him, deliberately enticing him. “I see. I didn’t know that. Thank you for pointing it out.”
“You are welcome,” he countered gravely, his eyes following her every movement.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“His palm cupped her face, moved lovingly to her slender neck, his thumb feathering over her soft skin. He ached with love for her. “I promise to be careful.”
“Really careful,” she insisted.
He found the hard edges of his mouth turning up. “Really really careful,” he clarified.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Jacques’ arms tightened possessively. His mouth was hungry against hers, needing to feed on her sweetness, her purity, to wipe out the remnants of the lingering demon. Her body was plaint and welcoming, her mouth as hungry as his. He flung his clothes in every direction and moved to gather her even closer. He felt her shift her weight, felt them both teeter, and then they were tumbling into the pool beneath them.
Locked together, they went to the bottom, their mouths clinging to one another, their shared laughter in their minds. He kicked his legs strongly as she wrapped hers around his waist. Their heads broke the surface, sending rings of ripples skipping over the water. She was laughing, catching his face in her hands. “You are so incredibly romantic, Jacques, I can barely catch my breath here.”
His hands moved up to cup her buttocks, to massage suggestively. He raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying this was my fault? Woman, I never lose my balance. I needed to follow you into the water to keep you from embarrassing yourself.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“You smell different, Jacques.” Shea inhaled his scent sharply, pulled back so she could look into his eyes. “Why do you smell different?”
He laughed softly. “It is not a woman, red hair. Why are you so suspicious? I met another one such as myself in the forest. I was in need, and he offered his aid.”
“And you took it?” She was astonished. Jacques had certainly come a long way from the wary, dark, dangerous man she had first encountered. “He was a total stranger, yet you allowed him to help you?”
“You were a total stranger, and I allowed you to do more than simply aid me,” he teased, his mouth warm against the corner of hers. “In fact, you gave me all sorts of interesting ideas on how you could further aid me.”
“I did not. As I recall, I told you I was your doctor, nothing more, and you would not listen to me. You know, Jacques, that’s a very bad habit of yours, not listening to me.”
His mouth wandered back to her ear, his breath stirring her blood. “I promise to remedy the situation as soon as humanly possible,” he whispered with a sorcerer’s magic.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“Shea reached up to trail her fingertips over his neck. The massage was suggestive and reassuring at the same time. He reacted by crushing her to him, his mouth hard and dominating as he captured hers. He kissed her possessively, his body as demanding as his mouth. “I need you right now, Shea. My body is going up in flames, and I hurt like hell. We have to be alone soon or I might die.”
Her laughter was muffled against his chest. “No one has ever died because they wanted to make love.” But she wasn’t sure. Her own body was burning and begging for the connection to his.
Gregori suddenly materialized, made a soft, sighing noise, and sent them a clear frown. Like guilty children they broke apart.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire

“The healer is right, you know. This is far too dangerous to allow you to do. I do not know what I was thinking.”
“The healer can mind his own business.” Shea sent Jacques a haughty, over-the-shoulder glare. “The healer may be an intelligent miracle-worker, but he does not know the first thing about women. Don’t make the mistake of listening to him in that particular department. Even with your memory lost, you know far more than that idiot.”
Jacques found himself laughing again. His mouth brushed the nape of her neck, sent a shiver rushing the length of her spine. “How easily you get around me.” He couldn’t help the surge of possessive triumph sweeping through him. Shea might admire the healer for his abilities, might even wish to learn from him, but his attitude definitely grated on her independent nature. Jacques found he was particularly fond of that independent streak in her.
“You’re a mere man, what do you expect?” she asked straight-faced. “I, however, am a brilliant surgeon and a woman of many talents.”
“The bats are beginning to get very nervous. I am not certain I can keep them from charging us,” he teased wickedly.
An involuntary shiver ran through her, but she simply tugged at his hand, assuring herself he was close, and returned to the matter before them. “Think of where we can take Byron when we find him.”
“The cabin is too dangerous. It will have to be a cave or the ground itself. We can turn him over to the healer and find a safe place to rest, perhaps make it back here.”
“That thrills me, it truly does.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Desire