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.

Raven paced restlessly across the floor of the cabin, sending Jacques a little self-mocking smile. “I’m very good at waiting.”
“I can see that,” Jacques agreed dryly.
“Come on, Jacques”— Raven made the length of the room again, turned to face him—“ don’t you find this even a little bit nerve-racking?” He leaned lazily back in his chair, flashing a cocky grin.
“Being caged up with a beautiful lunatic, you mean?”
“Ha, ha, ha. Do all Carpathian males think they’re stand-up comedians?”
“Just those of us with sisters-in-law who bounce off walls. I feel like I am watching a Ping-Pong ball. Settle down.”
“Well, how long does something like this take? I thought he implied he’d be in and out of the hospital in two minutes, Jacques. What could have gone wrong? Mikhail was very upset.”
“Mikhail did not actually say anything went wrong, did he?” Jacques asked, blankly innocent.
Raven’s large blue-violet eyes settled on Jacques’s face thoughtfully. Jacques squirmed under her suspicious, steady gaze. There was far too much intelligence in her enormous eyes to suit him. He held up a placating hand. “Now, Raven.”
“Don’t you now-Raven me. That brother of yours, worm that he is, male chauvinist unequaled in modern times, told you something he didn’t tell me, didn’t he?”
Leaning back with studied casualness, Jacques tipped his chair to a precarious angle and raised an eyebrow. “Women have vivid imaginations. I think you have a suspicious nature due to your American upbringing.”
“Intellect, Jacques, not imagination,” she corrected sweetly. “My American upbringing made me incredibly intelligent, and believe me, I can spot one of your pathetic Carpathian plots to protect the helpless woman from information you consider would make her fragile little delicate self unnecessarily fearful.”
He grinned at her. “Carpathian males understand the fragile nature of women’s nerves. Women— especially American women— just cannot take the adversity that we men can.”
“I think I should have enjoyed meeting your mother. How a woman could manage to raise two domineering tyrants like you and Mikhail is beyond me.”
His dark eyes laughed at her. “But we are charismatic, sexy, handsome, and always right.”
Raven hooked her foot around his chair and sent him crashing to the floor. Hands on hips, she regarded him with a superior glint. “Carpathian men are vain, dear brother-in-law,” she proclaimed, “but not too bright.”
Jacques glared up at her with mock ferocity. “You have a mean streak in you, woman. Whatever happened to a soft, sweet, Yes, my lord, you’re always right?”
“Try the Dark Ages.

Just those of us with sisters-in-laws who bounce off walls. I feel like I am watching a Ping-Pong ball. Settle down.

Gregori,” Mikhail reminded him softly, “if the child is your lifemate, and you do something careless, you are condemning her to death. Keep that in mind when you enter this place of madness.”
Gregori’s silver eyes slashed at his old friend. “Do you think I would chance harming her in any way? I have waited several lifetimes for her. These humans are nothing. They have persecuted our people for far too long. I mean it to stop.”
Mikhail nodded, his dark eyes, so like his brother’s, black ice. “You are up to this, Jacques?”
Jacques’ smile was a humorless promise of retaliation. “Have no worries about me. I am looking forward to this.”
Mikhail sighed. “Two bloodthirsty savages thinking they are in the dark ages.”
Jacques exchanged a humorless grin with Gregori. “The dark ages were not such a bad time. At least justice could be dispensed easily without worrying about what the women would think.”
“You both have gone soft,” Gregori snickered. “No wonder our people have such problems. The women are ruling, and you two besotted idiots just follow along.”
Jacques’ solid form wavered, became transparent. “We will see who proves to be the soft one, healer.” His body completely disappeared from sight.
Mikhail glanced at Gregori, shrugged, then followed suit. None of this was to his liking. Gregori was a time bomb waiting to explode. And only God knew what Jacques was capable of.

Mikhail stretched out on the bed, his head in her lap. “You are going to turn my well-ordered world upside down, are you not?”
She tunneled her fingers in his hair, enjoying the feel of its silky thickness against the bare skin of her hips and thighs. “I certainly intend to do my best.

If I really wanted you to love me, I should have presented more of a challenge.” She burrowed deeper into a pillow. “My hair is a mess.”
Mikhail sat on the edge of the bed, took the mass of silk in his hands, and gently began to weave the thick strands into a long, loose braid, “If you presented much more of a challenge, little one, my heart would never be able to take it.” He sounded amused.