Dark Desire Read Free Page A

She meant it. She always meant it. It was as if part of her merged with her patients and somehow managed to keep them alive until modern medicine could kick in.
    Jacques slept for some time. It didn’t matter to him how long it had been. Hunger was waiting. Pain was waiting. The treacherous heart and soul of a woman were waiting. He had an eternity to gather what strength he could, and she could never escape him now that he knew the mental path to her mind. He slept the sleep of immortals, his lungsand heart stopped as he lay in the earth, his body close to the soil it so desperately needed to aid healing, yet a thin layer of wood away. When he awakened, he scratched at the walls of his coffin patiently. He would reach the healing soil someday. He had managed to make a small hole to coax his prey to him. He could wait. She would never escape him. She was his single-minded purpose.
    He haunted her. Day or night. It didn’t matter to him. He no longer knew the difference when it had mattered so much before. He lived to try to appease his ever-present hunger. He lived for revenge. For retribution. He lived to make her life a living hell during his waking hours. He became good at it. Taking possession of her mind for minutes at a time. It was impossible to figure her out. She was so complex. There were things in her brain that made little sense to him, and the few moments he could stay awake without losing his precious remaining blood did not give him sufficient time to understand her.
    There was the time she was frightened. He could taste her fear. Feel her heart pounding so that his own matched the terrible rhythm. Still, her mind remained calm in the center of the storm, receiving quick, brilliant flashes of data she processed so quickly that he nearly missed them. Two strangers were hunting her. Taunting her. He also saw an image of himself, his thick hair hanging in strands around his ravaged face, his body savaged by brutal hands. He clearly saw the stake driven deep within his tissue and sinews. It flashed for a moment in her mind, there was the impression of grief, and then he lost contact.
    Shea would never forget their faces, their eyes, and the smell of their sweat. One of them, the taller of the two, couldn’t take his eyes from her. “Who are you?” She stared at them, wide-eyed, innocent, totally harmless. Shea knew she looked young and helpless, too small to give them trouble.
    â€œJeff Smith,” the tall one said gruffly. His eyes devoured her. “This is my partner, Don Wallace. We need you to come with us and answer a few questions.”
    â€œAm I wanted for something? I’m a doctor, gentlemen. I can’t just pick up and go. I’m due in surgery in an hour. Perhaps you could arrange to ask your questions when my shift is over.”
    Wallace grinned at her. He thought he looked charming. Shea thought he looked like a shark. “We can’t do that, Doc. It isn’t only our questions, there’s an entire committee looking to talk with you.” He laughed softly, a film of perspiration on his forehead. He enjoyed inflicting pain, and Shea was altogether too cool, too haughty.
    Shea made certain her desk was solidly between her and the men. Taking great care to move slowly and appear unconcerned, she glanced down at her computer, typed in the command to destroy her data, and hit the enter key. Then she picked up her mother’s diary, and slipped it into her purse. She accomplished everything easily, naturally. “Are you certain you have the right person?”
    â€œShea O’Halloran, your mother was Margaret ‘Maggie’ O’Halloran from Ireland?” Jeff Smith recited. “You were born in Romania, your father is unknown?” There was a taunting note in his voice.
    She turned the full power of her emerald eyes on the man, watched coolly as he squirmed uneasily, as he became consumed with desire for her. Smith was far more susceptible