Dark Nights - By Christine Feehan Page 0,144

Sara. Sara actually felt the other woman inside her, a warmth, an energy flowing through her body to soothe the terrible aches, to repair from the inside out. She was amazed that the terrible pounding in her head actually lessened. The nausea disappeared.

Shea leaned over to unfasten the seat belt that was biting into Sara’s chest. “Your body has suffered a trauma,” she said. “There will be extensive bruising, but you’re very lucky. Once we are safe, I can make you much more comfortable.” She moved out of the way to allow her lifemate access to the wreckage.

Sara found herself staring up at a man with a singularly beautiful face. His eyes, as he took off his sunglasses, were as old as time, as if he had seen far too much. Suffered far too much. He pushed the glasses onto Sara’s face, bringing a measure of relief to her burning eyes. Shea brushed Jacques’s hand with hers, the lightest of gestures, but it was more intimate than anything Sara had ever witnessed. She could feel the stillness in Falcon, could feel him gathering his strength should there be need.

“Hold very still,” Jacques cautioned softly. His voice held the familiar purity that seemed to be a part of the Carpathian species.

“He has the children. Go after him. If you’re like Falcon, you have to go after him and get the children back. He’s taking them to the vampire.” Falcon, I’m all right. You must find the children and keep them from the vampire. She was beginning to panic, thinking much more clearly now that the pain was receding.

Jacques grasped the steering column and gave a wrench, exerting strength so that it bent away from her, giving her more room to breathe. “The ghoul will not reach the vampire. Mikhail has risen and he will stop the puppet from reaching his master.” There was complete confidence in Jacques’s soft voice. “Your lifemate must be on his way, perhaps already close to us. All heard his warning, although he is not known to us.” It was a statement, but Sara heard the question in his words.

She watched his hands push the crumbling wreckage from around her legs so that she could move. The relief was so tremendous she could feel tears gathering in her eyes. Sara turned her head away from the probing gaze of the stranger. At once warmth flooded her mind.

I am with you, Sara. I feel your injuries and your fear for the children, but this man would not lie to you. He is the brother of the Prince. I have heard of him, a man who has endured much pain and hardship, who was buried alive by fanatics. Mikhail will not fail to rescue the children.

You go; don’t worry about me. You make certain the children are safe!

She didn’t know the Prince. She knew Falcon and she trusted him. If the children could be snatched away from the vampire, he would be the one to do it. And he was closer now, she was certain of it. His presence was much stronger and it took little effort to communicate with him.

“I am going to help you out of there,” Jacques warned.

Sara had desperately wanted to be free of the wreckage of her truck, but now, faced with the prospect of actually moving, it didn’t seem the best of ideas. “I think I’ll just sit here for the rest of my life, if you don’t mind,” she said.

To her shock, Jacques smiled at her, a flash of white teeth that lit his ravaged eyes. It was the last thing she’d expected of him, and she found herself smiling back. “You do not frighten very easily, do you?” he asked softly. He gave no sign that the light of day hurt his eyes, but she could see they were red and streaming. He endured it stoically.

Sara lifted a trembling hand to eye level and watched it shake. They both laughed softly together. “I’m Sara Marten. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“We could do no other, with your lifemate filling the skies with his declaration.” The white teeth flashed again, this time reminding her of a wolf. “I am Jacques Dubrinsky; Shea is my lifemate.”

Sara knew he was watching her closely to see what effect his words had on her. She knew Falcon was watching Jacques through her eyes, catching every nuance, sizing up the other man. And Jacques Dubrinsky was well aware of it, too.

“I am going to lift you out

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