Dark Desire by Christine Feehan

their hearts together, their minds. She no longer felt like a single entity but one complete being with him. There had always been a raw emptiness inside her; now it was gone.
    He released her wrist reluctantly, traced his fingertips along her high cheekbone. His mind touched hers, found genuine fear and confusion. I am as much in the dark as you are. I know only that you ended my suffering, that you came to my call, that I recognize my other half. You are the light to my darkness.
    Shea edged away from him, making certain to get beyond his reach. “I’m your doctor, Jacques, nothing more. I heal people.” She said it more for herself than for him. Shea had no idea what he was talking about. She worried that his mind was playing tricks on him, weaving fantasies for him. Intellectually, Shea knew no one could tie another to himself with words, yet she felt threads binding them together. There were too many things she didn’t understand. Jacques was half mad, his mind shattered, his memories coming to him in tiny pieces, yet maybe he was more stable than she was. It was a scary thought.
    She was so hungry, the need for blood nearly overwhelming. She had never experienced such a craving. Shea decided she was feeling Jacques’ hunger, that somehow she was actually sharing his distress. At once she poured the wild man two pints of blood from her supply and took the tall glass to his bedside. “I’m sorry, I should have realized you’d be hungry. If you let me give you intravenous fluids, it would help.” The moment she put the glass down, she retreated to her computer desk.
    He ignored her comment. Why do you not feed? The question was asked casually, curiously. His black eyes were thoughtful as he studied her.
    From her position of safety across the room, Shea watched him. The weight of his gaze alone broke her concentration, took her breath away. She was feeling far too possessive of this patient. She had no right to tangle her life around his. It was frightening that she was reacting so un-characteristically to him. She had always felt aloof, remote, detached from people and things around her. Her analytical mind simply computed facts. But right now, she could think only of him, his pain and suffering, the way his eyes watched her, half-closed, sexy. Shea nearly jumped out of her skin. Where had that thought come from?
    Knowing she wouldn’t want to think he was reading her mind at that precise moment, Jacques did the gentlemanly thing and pretended merely a casual interest. It was nice to know she found him sexy. Smugly he lay back with his eyes closed, long lashes dark against his washed-out complexion.
    Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, Shea felt as though he witnessed every move she made. “You rest while I shower and change my clothes.” Her hands went to her hair in a futile effort to tidy the wild thickness of it.
    His eyes remained closed, his breathing relaxed. I can feel your hunger, your need for blood nearly as great as my own. Why would you attempt to hide this from me? With sudden insight he let out his breath. Or is it that you are hiding from your own needs? That is it—you do not realize it is your hunger, your need.
    The gentleness in his tone flooded her body with unexpected heat. Furious that he could be right, she stalked into the bathroom, shrugged off her robe, and allowed the warm shower to cascade over her head.
    His laughter was low and taunting. You think to escape me, little red hair? I live in you as you live in me.
    Shea gasped, whirled around, grabbed frantically for a towel. It took a moment to realize he was still in the other room. The connection between them was growing stronger. She wanted it now, enjoyed it, yet it made her uneasy that she could find such an intimacy with another so natural, so normal, when it wasn’t.
    It suddenly occurred to her that she was showing no indications of normal bodily functions. As always, her