Immortal Wolf

Emily cried out, putting a gloved hand to her lips, blue eyes wide in her delicate face. Blue eyes turning rapidly to deep violet. “No! Oh, goddess, not you, it can’t be….”

His throat closed up. Raphael couldn’t speak, though he screamed inside his head.

Emily, the one he was to execute. No safe, anonymous stranger.

But Erin, his draicara, his mate. It wasn’t possible.

Barely had the thought crossed his mind when an eerie, high-pitched scream, like that of an ancient banshee, tore out of Emily’s throat. Raphael heard the snicking of the knife slashing through the air. Pain exploded in his chest as the blade sank deep.

He fell forward, landing face-first on the damp, welcoming earth.

Chapter 3

Emily had killed him.

The kitchen knife fell from her outstretched fingers. She stared in dawning shock, her heart racing. His kiss hadn’t been a mere fusing of mouths, but a drugging, intoxicating kiss that drew in her very soul. It was fulfillment of all the desperate hopes, dreams and sensual yearnings she’d felt since finding him through their mind link.

He’d kissed her into silence, his own sexual hunger twining with a sorrowful knowing.

Emily brought her hands up to her face.

Blood soaked the chamois gloves.

A scream lodged itself in her throat as her gaze dropped to Raphael lying on the ground. She had killed him, the Kallan, her draicaron.

Her executioner was also her destined mate, the male who was supposed to save her.

Her hands, hands that killed, now shook violently. A cool breeze touched her cheek, soft as a gentle caress. It fluttered the hem of her skirts. Emily dropped to her knees, reaching out to touch Raphael.

She jerked back, her mouth opening and closing. Fisting her hands, she pounded them against her thighs.

“No, no, no,” she croaked in a thin wail.

The pitch rose to a hysterical scream. She threw back her head and released her anguish to the sky. Emily struggled to rein in her emotions. Stretching out her hands, she thought quickly.

She could restore life with her blood.

Barely had the thought occurred when Raphael groaned and stirred. Blood no longer flowered on his shirt from the terrible wound she’d inflicted. Her gaze whipped to him, and she crab-crawled away as he sat up. His dark gaze regarded hers with a touch of wry humor.

“I see you paid attention to my advice. Good.” He touched the crimson stain on his chest.

Relief over his recovery turned into grieved anger. “How can you jest over something like this? How can you do this?”

How can you be the one who is to kill me when you are supposed to be my mate?

Regret darkened his gaze. “I didn’t want to frighten you any more than you already are.” His mouth twisted. “I wish you’d stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you are the Kallan?” she blurted out. “My mate?”

He stood, as whole and healthy as if being stabbed hadn’t affected him. “Emily,” he said softly. “Why did you tell me your name was Erin?”

“Why did you not tell me your true name?” she shot back.

“I didn’t want my draicara to be afraid of the Kallan. I wanted her, you, to come to know me for who I am.”

“My executioner,” she said brokenly.

His eyes closed as he shoved a hand through his tousled hair, pulling free bits of twig and leaves. “Let’s forget that for a moment. Tell me, Emily, why did you tell me your name was Erin?”

“Because it was my father’s nickname for me, my favorite name. I didn’t want you to know my real name. I was afraid—maybe you heard stories of Emily, the cursed one.” She struggled to her feet, training her gaze on him.

Bitterness mingled in his wry smile. “I see we both had good reason for withholding our real identities from each other.”

“But I should have recognized your voice, your accent.” Emily touched a nearby oak, feeling comfort and strength from connecting to the sturdy, strong tree.

“Perhaps we both were blinded to the truth, until we were forced to confront it together.” Raphael bent over, picked up the bloodied kitchen knife. A frown pierced his forehead.

“Stand back,” he ordered.

Mystified, she watched as he dropped the knife and held out his hands. A streak of white light blazed from his fingertips, heating the metal, turning the blood to white ash.

Raphael retrieved the knife, formally held it out to her, hilt side. “I believe this is yours.”

“Put it on the ground.” When he did, she took it, reluctant to even let their fingers brush. Emily set the knife on a small stump.

“Why did you incinerate your blood?”

His troubled gaze met hers. “I’m an immortal, and my blood contains powerful magick, powerful enough to restore life, or make other beings, evil ones, immortal as well. If I am injured, I must do my best to destroy any droplets. I must not allow anyone to use it for their own purpose.”

His blood as well? Faint hope filled her. “Power,” she breathed. “You can restore life through your blood?”

If he could, their mutual problem was solved. Raphael could execute her and then revive her with his blood. She shared the thought, sending it to him using the unique telepathic connection shared between destined mates.

For a whisper of a minute, their minds connected, merged. She saw deep sorrow in his thoughts, a heartrending grief.

“I am permitted that gift only once. I used it to save my sister-in-law, because I reasoned I would never find my draicara.” Raphael’s jaw tautened. “If I use it again, I will forfeit my own life, and the blood used to restore life will turn to poison in the person’s veins.”

For a moment, he looked away, his arms folding across his powerful chest. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

She knew Raphael was referring to her emotional state, which was rather precarious. His protective nature warmed her until she realized it was all futile. Emily touched the tree again for comfort.

“I’ll be fine.”

“There has to be a reason why this is happening. It makes no sense.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Come back to my cabin. I’ll get changed, make us breakfast and we can discuss it.”

Emily felt her defenses rise. She couldn’t dare trust him, the only Draicon she thought she could trust. The only Draicon who could save her would kill her.

She truly was all alone, and the thought sent her backing away with wariness.

“Find your own breakfast.”

“Emily. Come now, we can’t ignore the truth any longer. Eat with me, and let’s try to find answers together as to why this is happening.”

She could not answer. Emotion clogged her throat. Every cell cried out to take his outstretched hand, trust in his kind expression, go with him.

Self-preservation screamed against it. Emily shook her head.

“My touch kills, Kallan. Have you forgotten?”

She whirled around and darted back into the haven and security of her beloved forest.

No, I haven’t forgotten. I can never forget.

Raphael’s heart wrenched as he watched her slip away. He released a heavy sigh. He wanted to scream his anger and frustration. Debating on whether to follow, he inhaled her scent. Emily’s unique fragrance was as clear as if he’d marked her himself. Didn’t she realize he could track her through a forest filled with skunks and still find her? He resisted the instinct to give chase.

Instead, he roped in all his control and turned back toward his cabin. He needed energy, fast, from raw meat. The stab wound had nicked his heart, and even though it had healed, he felt drained.

Raphael suspected the deeper, more devastating emotional wound to his heart would take much longer to heal.

How could this happen? How could the one female he was to mate with, his other half, who contained the missing half of his magick, be the cursed one he had to kill? The rising sexual awareness of her and the desire riding him did not lessen. It made sense now, but he was helpless to control his body’s reaction around her.

Until he made Emily his in the flesh, his sexual need of her would grow stronger, making him nearly animalistic in his drive to mate and claim. He hadn’t wanted a mate. Always on the move, the race’s death dealer whom most feared, he kept to himself but for family. Raphael had few friends, and knew a mate couldn’t fit into his lifestyle.

He always suspected his would be a challenging mating at best if he ever found his draircara. He would have to soothe her fears and have a leisurely courtship to show her his gentler side. But this mating surpassed his darkest thoughts.

Anger rose up at her pack’s deception. Had they been truthful, he could have avoided this. Raphael returned to his cabin, fished through the refrigerator and drew out two steaks. He ate the raw meat standing up, feeling the energy revive him. Through the lacy curtains at the window, he could see the edge of the deep forest where Emily hid.

He finished eating, dropped the bones on a plate, wiped his mouth and reached out with his mind.

Emily, where are you? Come to me. Stop running away.

Silence. His jaw tightened. She needed time, both to process what had happened and what she had done. His read was that she was a gentle soul, who loathed and feared her gift to kill. Stabbing him in the heart had emotionally taxed her, along with the knowledge that he was her draicaron.

He would give her the necessary space she needed for now. In the meantime, Raphael tossed the bones into the garbage with a grim look.

He had a much bigger bone to pick over with the pack’s top dog.

Urien was friendly, invited him to join them for breakfast. When Raphael declined and confronted him about Emily, the leader stood his ground. “If I told you Emily was young and strong, not a weak elder, you would not have agreed to this sacrifice. And we could not bring ourselves to do it, but it must be done.”

Raphael locked his hard gaze to the other male’s. They sat in the expansive living room of the pack’s house. In his traditional clothing of the Old Ones, a dun-colored vest of broadcloth, trousers to match and a forest-green, long-sleeved shirt, the Burke pack Alpha looked as if he’d traveled backward in time. Raphael had chosen the seat opposite him, facing the door. Never with his back to newcomers. Always on guard.

Now he wished he had been more careful before accepting this assignment. He did not tell Urien about Emily being his dracaira. Every male protective instinct inside him warned against it. Information would be exchanged only if Raphael thought it had a chance of saving Emily.

“It’s not a sacrifice, but an execution. How do I know all you’re telling me about Emily is the truth?” Raphael’s mouth thinned as he glared at the other male.

“There are two gravestones in our cemetery that prove my words. What do you wish, Kallan? To see her actually dispatch another life?”

Beneath the bristling tension and aggressive words threaded an emotion Raphael could not identify. He sensed the male hid something. There was something else more ominous about Urien, but he couldn’t place it. Raphael reached out with all his Draicon senses, inhaled the older male’s scent.

He detected nothing but a slightly sweet fragrance. His gaze whipped over to the vases of fresh freesia and lilies on a polished round table.

If Emily was the cursed one, and her touch killed, there would be prophecies detailing her future. He leaned forward, his jaw tensed.

“I need proof, not of what she’s done, but of the ancient words. Let me see the prophecies.”

Urien relaxed and gave Raphael a pitying look. “I cannot. It is forbidden. Our ways are sacred and of the Old Ones, the purebloods. You, as a mixed-blood and a Cajun, are not allowed to see the sacred words. Besides, you could not interpret them, so they would be of little use.”

Hairs bristled on the nape of his neck. Not understand. Always the snobbery, the division so clearly demarking his pack from the purebloods.

Raphael kept his thoughts guarded and offered a slow, calculating smile. “Then I will call my brother, my adopted brother, to my side. Damian is a pureblood Alpha, a descendant of the French Marcel pack. He has the authority to decipher the sacred words.”

Alarm flashed in Urien’s blue gaze, then vanished. Raphael detected the slightest scent of fear. “It would do no good. Helen, my sister, was keeper of the texts, and she hid them well and did not tell us where before Emily killed her.”

How convenient. “Then if the texts are hidden, shouldn’t they be found?”

“They are of the earth and its powers and too frail to be brought into the light this time of year. It is best to wait until winter, when the sun’s light will not pierce them and perhaps fade the words.” Urien gave him another knowing look. “Of course you would not know these things, as you are unfamiliar with the Old Ways.”

He tired of Urien’s games. “I am familiar with the new ways and a technology called artificial lighting. I can unearth them at night and then Damian can read with artificial lighting that will have no effect, since the lighting is not from the earth.” Raphael watched Urien’s face pale. “If your people are reluctant to do it, I will. If I have to dig up holes in every square inch of your property, I will.”

“I am afraid your task is fruitless. Helen was a pureblood Draicon, and her powers from the earth itself. She would have cloaked the texts with so many safeguards only the most ancient and knowledgeable of our pack could safely find them.”

Doubt touched the male’s face as he surveyed Raphael. “Our pack, not a mixed-blood pack, that is. Our past Kallans have also been purebloods, elders who had great powers and could accomplish such a feat. I am not certain if your powers are sufficient enough to uncover Helen’s hiding place deep in the earth.”

Urien’s chiding tone grated on Raphael’s last nerve. “I assure you, my powers are more than sufficient.”

“Perhaps if I were to witness a test to be assured of this.”

He was not a circus performer who performed tricks at everyone else’s bidding, but if it erased the doubts in the Alpha male’s mind and helped Emily…

He hated sacrificing his pride but would do so this one time for his draicara’s sake. Swallowing his disquiet, Raphael stood, stretching his big, powerful body to its full height, emphasizing his larger, more muscled physique over Urien’s shorter, almost delicate body. Red wolf. Smaller, agile.

Pureblood, who possessed knowledge Raphael had been denied, simply due to his pack’s status in the Draicon hierarchy.

“What test did you have in mind? Uncover the earth with a wave of my hands? Singe the grass with a lightning bolt?” He gave his most intimidating stare, the one that froze the bravest Draicon in their tracks. Urien lowered his gaze. Still, Raphael wasn’t satisfied, but disgusted.

He’d never met an Alpha Draicon who could not stand his ground. Small wonder the male wasn’t willing to fight for Emily’s life but chose to execute her as if she were a bothersome burden. Alpha males were supposed to protect all their pack females. Damian, a powerful and pureblood Alpha male, would lay down his life for a member of his pack and would never meekly back away from a confrontation.

No one was willing to fight for Emily. His temper flared. “Let’s get this over with,” he snapped. Raphael jerked a thumb at the door. “Outside.”

In the pristine yard, with acres of meadow grass flowing down a gentle slope, he spotted a likely target. Raphael inhaled deeply, trying to get Urien’s scent. He smelled earth and forest. Urien was Draicon.

Raphael turned and saw a face staring down from the upstairs window. Soon, footsteps on the farmhouse steps alerted him that they weren’t alone. The other Burke pack members gathered behind Urien. Raphael turned and looked at their faces. They resembled a crowd eager for a spectacle, anticipation shining on their round, pale faces.

Let’s get this show over with, he thought in revulsion.

“There,” he said, jerking a thumb toward a large boulder.

Raphael stretched out his hands and summoned the energy. Rock exploded into a shower of granite chips and loud gasps sounded behind him. He walked over to a fragment no bigger than a dime and tossed it at Urien.

“I trust that will suffice,” he said with sarcasm.

“You are the Kallan. The Destroyer. You are permitted to search for the texts as you wish.” Urien bowed his head slightly, but then his gaze was alert and watchful as he lifted it once more. Cunning. “I give you permission to search all our land. However, if you do not sacrifice Emily, you will violate the terms of the contract and forfeit your own brother’s life.”

A flash of grief and anger touched him. Raphael fisted his hands. “I won’t violate any terms by obtaining proof that Emily is the cursed one foretold to bring about the end to all our race. All our race, purebloods and mixed. Know this, Urien. I will do what I must, but I will have the proof I need. I will not take an innocent’s life.”

As he started to leave them, he heard someone whisper, “This Kallan is not like the purebloods of old. He has much more destructive, dark power. He is the Destroyer.”

No emotion showed on his face as he whirled around and went toward his cabin, but inside, his stomach churned the contents of his last meal.

Emily spent much of the morning sitting by her father’s gravestone, searching within herself for answers.

“Papa, I wish you could hear me,” she whispered to the cold gravestone. “I’m no coward, but I’m scared and don’t know what to do anymore. If it’s best that I die to save the pack, so be it, but how can my death at Raphael’s hand solve anything?”

She didn’t know whom to trust. Yet her father always stressed that pack was family and family was everything. Right now, she needed comfort from a familiar routine. The pack always had a big family-style breakfast. Once they had welcomed her at the table with hugs and kisses. Emily longed to belong once more.

Maybe this time, now that they knew she would soon die, they wouldn’t shun her. The thought comforted her a little.

She stood and walked to the rambling farmhouse.

With a confident walk that disguised her inner trembling, she entered the house and stood at the doorway of the enormous dining groom. Her aunt, busy serving a platter of sausage, glanced up. Frozen horror stole over Bridget’s face.

Gathering all her courage, Emily spoke. “I just wanted to join you for one meal, I can eat from a separate plate and destroy it after so I won’t contaminate it, or you can even give me the leftovers you don’t want…”

Her voice trailed off as the entire pack, her family, turned their heads. The repulsed looks echoed Bridget’s. Urien pushed back from the table.

“Get out,” he said tightly. “You are forbidden here.”

Some tiny bit of stubbornness remained, gluing her feet to the floor. She held her chin high, surveying them with what she hoped was a scornful glance.

“Fine,” she said with dignity. “I’m not hungry.”

Gathering the tatters of her shredded pride, Emily left, hoping they couldn’t hear her protesting stomach. She did not run until she was certain the pack could not see her through the farmhouse windows.

Her footsteps made crunching sounds as she ran along the grand drive leading to her cottage. On the front porch of Raphael’s cottage, the Kallan watched her.

Emily jerked to a halt, her heart thudding like a war drums. Her nostrils flared, catching his scent. Spices and an earthy, masculine scent flooded her senses.

She swallowed hard. She didn’t dare trust him. She had trusted her own people to understand, to work with her, and they had turned their backs in her greatest need. But she had been alone for too long to reach out to anyone, even the one who was supposed to save her.

Emily started to pass, but his deep, commanding voice called out. “Emily, come here.”

For a moment she hesitated, then she inhaled again, dragging in a lungful of his scent. It beckoned to her like an elixir, made her dizzy with sharp, sudden need.

Almost against her will, Emily found herself mounting the steps to his cabin. Raphael sat in one of the pine rockers. The chiseled edge of his profile showed in sharp relief.

She chose to stand by the railing, as far from him as possible without leaving the porch.

“Why do you keep running away to the woods?”

Her shoulders lifted in an attempt at insouciance. “I like the forest.”

“So do I. It holds an aura of mystery, strength and power. Especially these woods.” He cocked his head at her. “One of my favorite poems is about the woods. Robert Frost wrote it.”

“Robert Frost,” she realized. A Kallan who read poetry like she did?

“He was like you, in a way. He cherished the earth. You feel more at home in the forest, don’t you?”

Emily fell silent, not knowing what to say.

Finally, he looked at her. His expression was blank, but she read steely resolve in his dark gaze. “I know this was a shock to you, as much as it was to me. But from now on, no more running from me.”

“Who are you to order me?”

“Your draicaron. Your bonded mate. You can’t run away from that fact, Emily.” He leaned back in the rocker, his boots tipped upward. “I had a talk with your Alpha—”

“My Alpha.”

Bitterness tinged her tone. Raphael gave her a thoughtful look and leaned forward, hands on his knees. She found herself staring at his long, powerful limbs encased in the blue jeans. Everything about the Kallan radiated power, control and pure male strength.

“I told Urien I want proof that the prophecies demand your sacrifice and that I will not go forward with the execution unless I have that proof.”

She felt her shoulders release the tension she’d been holding. No one since her father had talked to her with this much forwardness and blunt honesty. Raphael did not mince words or make her fate sound glorious. It was an execution, and she was glad he stated it thusly. It softened her a little toward him.

Just a little.

Raphael slung an arm over the back of the rocker. “Did your aunt Helen ever mention to you where she hid the sacred texts?”

Like a deer spotting a predator, Emily froze. Motionless she stood, hoping she had not heard him correctly. How could he have known?

“Emily.”

A statement, demanding answers. Emily lifted her gaze to his. “What concern is it of yours?”

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