Dark Desire by Christine Feehan Read Free Book Online Page A

softly, as if coaxing a wild animal. She used the power of her voice shamelessly. Hypnotic, gentle, soothing. "I'll need tools and a vehicle. Do you understand?"
    She leaned over him, her free hand gingerly touching his mutilated chest. Fresh blood was seeping around the stake, leaking from his many other cuts as if they were recent. His wrist had a fresh, ragged tear in it that she was certain had not been there earlier. "My God, you must be-in terrible pain. Don't move. I can't take that stake out until I get you back to my cabin. You'll bleed to death." Shockingly, his color was slightly better.
    The creature released her slowly, reluctantly, his gaze never leaving her face. His hand reached down to scrape up the earth, bring it to the terrible wounds. Of course! The soil. She helped him, scooping up handfuls of the richest dirt to spread over his cuts. There were so many. After the first handful, he lay still, conserving his energy, his gaze fastened on her like a brand. He never blinked, his dark eyes never once wavering.
    Shea glanced upward toward the cellar entrance nervously. Much time had passed while she was unconscious. The sun would be coming up soon. She bent over him, stroked back his hair gently, a strange tenderness stealing over her. For some unexplained reason she felt drawn to this poor creature, and the sensation was far stronger than her natural compassion, her need as a doctor to help. She wanted him to live. He had to live. She had to find a way to take away his terrible pain. "I have to get some things. I'll hurry as fast as I can, but I'll come back, I promise." She rose to her feet, turned to go, taking one step.
    He moved so fast that he was a blur, his hand clamping around her neck, jerking her off her feet so that she fell across him. His teeth ripped at her exposed throat, the pain excruciating. He fed voraciously, a wild animal out of control. She struggled against the pain, against the futility of what he was doing. He was killing the one person who could save him. Her hand, flailing blindly, found his jet-black hair. Her fingers tangled in the dirty, thick mane, remained there when she slumped nearly lifeless across his upper chest. The last thing she heard before she passed out was his heartbeat. Shockingly, her own heart tried to follow the steady, strong rhythm.
    There was silence, then a gasping wheeze as her body struggled for survival. The creature stared dully at her limp, slender body. The stronger and more alert he became, the more pain washed over him, consumed him. He raised his free hand, bit his wrist, and forced the gushing wound over her mouth for the second time. He was uncertain what was happening around him, the pain was so intense. He had been buried for so long, he could not remember seeing anything in his lifetime but shades of gray and black. Now his eyes hurt from the vivid brightness of the colors surrounding him. He had to escape the kaleidoscope of hues, the pain increasing every moment and unfamiliar emotions threatening to drown him.
    Shea woke slowly, facedown in the dirt. Her throat was raw and throbbing, the same sweet, coppery taste coating her mouth. She was sick and dizzy, and instinctively she realized the sun was at its peak. Her body felt like lead. Where was she? She was cold and disoriented. Shea pushed herself to her knees, then had to lower her head to avoid fainting. She had never been so weak, so helpless. It was a frightening feeling.
    Awareness hit, and she scrambled on all fours across the dirt floor. With her back to the wall and the width of the room between them, she stared in horror at the coffin. He lay as if dead. No discernible heartbeat or respiration. Shea pressed the back of one shaking hand to her mouth to keep a sob from escaping. She was not going near him again, dead or not. Even as the thought came, as intelligent as it was, she still felt the need to find a way to help him. Something in her could not let it go.
    Maybe she was wrong