Today the Kallan arrived. The male who would end her life.
If she didn't find a way to stop him.
Emily paced before her cottage. She couldn't wait and walked
silently to the farmhouse.
On the way over, she heard the steady roar of a motorcycle
as it crested the quiet hill before the farmhouse. Despite
every instinct that urged flight, she advanced toward the
sound. She needed to see the one who would end her life. She
crept through the yard by using the thick pine trunks of the
trees that flanked the drive from the cottage to the
farmhouse to shield her.
Her pack had gathered on the gravel drive. With a cough, the
big motorcycle's engine died and the pack drifted toward the
male on the bike. Emily gave him a grim smile. Maybe the
others went meekly. She'd give him the fight of his life.
Her life.
He removed a gleaming black helmet. Shoulder-length dark
hair fell about his head, curling at the edges. One lock of
hair was pure white at his right temple. Dressed in a black
leather jacket, black T-shirt and black leather pants, he
looked tall and imposing even while seated.
The rider slid a firm thigh over the saddle and stood. Emily
put a hand to her throat, feeling it tighten. He towered
over her family. He was breathtaking, with his fine bone
structure, high cheeks, full, sensual lips and determined
chin. Power radiated from him, and he exuded a sense of
authority.
His dress was as different as his height and muscled body.
Her people wore the clothing of the Old Ones. Simple wool
vests in dark green or blue, broadcloth shirts and trousers
for the men. Women were always clad in long dresses, some
laced up front with a full skirt and formfitting bodice.
Traditional. This Kallan's leather-clad body made her feel
tingly and caused wicked thoughts to race through her mind.
What would he look like without the covering?
She hadn't expected him to look so sexy, so young. The
Kallans of old in the Book of Records were ancients. The
last Kallan had been a graybeard who wore dignified
clothing, like the long emerald robes her Alpha wore at
ceremonial celebrations.
Tight leather covered his long legs, molded to his bottom. A
hot flush rose to Emily's cheeks as she stared at the
prominent bulge between his legs. The Kallan swaggered with
easy grace, gravel crunching beneath his booted feet. Never
had she seen such a display of raw masculinity. He sucked up
all the open space with his presence. A dangerous Draicon,
formidable. Emotionless as well. Had to be, to do what he must.
A small fear shook her. He looked like a fierce hunter who
would flush out prey and never stop. Any thoughts that she
could outrun him, outwit him, shattered like brittle glass.
Suddenly he looked up from greeting those around him. His
attention shot straight to the trees hiding her. He seemed
affixed to her position as his eyes narrowed.
Her heart galloped as she stumbled backward. This was not
how she would meet him. Not cowering and lurking, but chin
up, face forward.
Not yet. She needed to gather the fragments of her tattered
courage first. Emily slipped away, her bare feet making no
noise on the soft grass.
Later, when dusk fell and shadows cloaked the land, she
would march up to the farmhouse and introduce herself.
Kallan or not, Raphael would never best her. She would show him.
Instead of the animosity and superior attitude Raphael
expected, the Burke pack welcomed him with vigorous
handshakes. Immediately he donned the unemotional mask
necessary for his duty.
Amid the glad-handing and introductions, Raphael scented
her. Emily, the transition.
Wildflowers, a hint of lavender. His attention whipped over
to a small stand of pines. She hid behind them.
Her scent spoke volumes to him. Fear twined with anger and
tremendous strength. Underlying it was a strong femininity
that flooded his body with sexual heat.
Raphael stared. It must be Emily, the cursed one, but why
was her presence so enticing? He scanned the Draicon around
him. None seemed to sense Emily was nearby. No one acted
affected. Except him.
A small nagging tugged the back of his mind. But the sweet,
sensual fragrance of Emily faded. He turned on his charming
smile, the one reserved for uncomfortable situations. This
pack didn't seem anxious or upset as expected with his arrival.
They seemed relieved.
"Greetings, Kallan. We are most happy to have you. I will
see to whatever needs you have in regards to Emily's
transition." Bridget, the Alpha female, gave him a wide,
welcoming smile.
This Emily. Yeah, he had need. A strong need to hunt down
and flush out that alluring scent. Emily. Strong, fragrant.
Not weak, as they'd told him.
Urien, the Alpha male, was short, slim, with red hair, blue
eyes and a strong chin. He stared with the usual arrogant,
domineering look of a purebreed. Raphael refused to lower
his gaze. He fixed his coolest look on the Draicon. To his
surprise, Urien glanced away and stepped back, clearly
surrendering.
Most Alphas, engaged in such a bristling display of
dominance, would step forward, give a small nod to
acknowledge Raphael's own position of power and shake hands.
"Where's Emily?" he asked, searching their faces.
The pack shifted, shuffled their feet. "She is not welcome
here," Urien said bluntly. "It's not important for you to
meet her at this moment."
Raphael hid his angry bemusement. The Alpha pair refused to
smooth over this very difficult time for Emily? What could
be more important?
He remained silent in his disapproval as they escorted him
inside. They treated him with the usual reverence, but damn,
they were all so cowering, refusing to look him in the eye.
What the hell had happened here? Had the earth goddess's
curse taken hold of more than the doomed Emily?
Bridget let him on a tour of the big, rambling Victorian
farmhouse. She explained that the home housed the entire
Burke pack but he could find no evidence of Emily.
As he followed her up the staircase, Raphael stopped. He
cocked his head, listened. Silence.
"Your offspring, your young. Where are they?"
Bridget looked uncomfortable. "We have none."
"None at all?" He was incredulous.
"Our pack has lived and thrived here for decades, but
breeding outside the pack and mixing the bloodlines is
forbidden. As a result, our females have become barren. We
have been unable to conceive for decades. Now if you'll
follow me…"
"When was the last birth?" he demanded.
Panic flared in her eyes, then she glanced away. "A female,
a forbidden birth, some years ago. Emily. Liam sired her on
another outside the pack. Urien accepted her because Liam is
his dearest brother and we needed a little one. But now
Urien regrets not banishing Liam for the pack's good."
"You told me she was an elder who was glad to cross."
Raphael's dismay grew. "Why did you lie?"
"It is hard for us. Emily was our hope. And now to have to
sacrifice her for the good of the pack? It breaks our hearts."
"Where is her father?"
Her expression went blank. "Dead a year ago. Emily killed
him. Accidentally, when she touched him."
Her own father? Pity surged through him, along with mounting
suspicion. "What happened?"
"Emily had dreamed the goddess Aibelle appeared to her and
said the power of life and death was within her. The next
day, Emily asked her father and me what Aibelle meant. She
grabbed her father's hand, squeezed it. Liam gasped and
dropped to the floor. I told Emily to fetch Urien from the
fields, but it was too late. By the time he returned, Liam
was dead from Emily's touch. She is the one foretold by the
prophecies to bring an end to our people."
Bridget wrung her hands. "You must understand how difficult
this is. Urien loves Emily, but she killed Liam, and then
six months later his sister, Helen. We must follow the
ancient prophecies and dispatch Emily before the curse
spreads. The fate of the entire Draicon race rests with you,
Kallan. How many more of our people must die?"
Raphael's heart sank. "What about these ancient prophecies?
I want to see them for myself."
Not that he could read them. Any knowledge he had of the Old
Language he'd memorized when he became Kallan.
"It is forbidden for those outside our pack to read them,
those who are not pure of the blood."
Her voice was soft and the tone apologetic, but if Bridget
had spat in his face, she couldn't have insulted him more.
Raphael gave her a long, cool look and they resumed the tour.
When they reached the upstairs bedrooms, Bridget opened a
door to a lavish suite. "This is your room. We hope you like
it."
"Where does Emily sleep?"
After some hesitation, she said Emily lived in a cottage in
the woods. There were several cottages in the forest, but
after Emily killed her father, everyone else moved to the
farmhouse. No one wanted to be near her.
"Emily is too dangerous," she insisted. "It's best this way.
Emily likes living in the woods."
Did she? He wondered if it were Emily's choice or if they
forced her into it.
Raphael closed the suite door and leaned against it. He gave
Bridget his most intimidating look.
"I want to stay in the cottage next to Emily."
Bridget started to protest. He remained silent. Finally, she
sighed. "I'll see to it. But, be careful. She's dangerous."
"I'll deal with it." Raphael stared her down. "Now take me
to my quarters."
Raphael. The powerful, mighty warrior who would kill her was
named Raphael. They said he was swift, merciful and gave the
person a dignified end.
His dagger was honed with magick from the Old Ones.
Those subjected to an ending by his sword were even accorded
dignified names. The transitions. They transi-tioned to the
Other Realm, with Raphael the Kallan aiding their journey.
Noises had drawn her to the cottage next door.
Emily stood now behind a pine tree, peering into the
living-room window as she watched Raphael stretch his long body.
Fascination stole over her. Smooth tanned flesh flexed over
strong biceps. Emily ducked out of sight as he turned.
Footsteps sounded inside. She peeked again. Raphael tugged
his black T-shirt over his head and off. Now he stood at the
bathroom door. Certainly the view was admirable. She felt a
tingle rush through her body as she gazed at his body.
His fingers reached for the front of his black leather
pants. Coloring, she ducked down again. When she lifted her
head, sounds of the shower began.
Curiosity overwhelmed her. Emily crept around to the
cottage's side. The bathrooms were designed to let in
natural light and give the feeling of being outdoors while
in the shower. A wall of glass looked out to a curtain of
pine trees. Sneaking between the glass and the pines, she
watched.
In the glassed shower, Raphael stood beneath the twin jets,
his back to her. Damp, ragged black hair hung in strands to
his wide shoulders. Smooth, golden flesh covered his muscled
backside, and his bottom…
Emily stared at the rounded firmness of his buttocks. When
he turned around, she released a startled gasp. Her shocked
gaze roamed from the dark hair on his firm chest to the
rippling muscles on his abdomen, down to the thick hair at
his groin and the…
Her gaze whipped back up to his other end to find two dark
eyes regarding her with amusement.
Emily squeaked, fleeing into the safety of her forest.
* * *
Emily was curious to see him. Well, she'd gotten a good look
at him. More than an eyeful, Raphael thought with a grin.
But would she spend the next three weeks running away?
He dried off, dressed and went onto the porch. Sitting on a
wood rocker, he listened to the peaceful cheep of tree
frogs, the distant lowing of a cow left in a pasture.
Twilight draped shadows over the stretch of grass marching
down the gentle slope toward the forest.
What kind of life was it for Emily when her entire pack
feared even the tread of her steps on the stairs?
Something about his charge bothered him. Not her absence.
That was normal. But the feelings she evoked in him,
powerful and overwhelmingly sexual. He'd never felt like
this before around a transition.
His feelings were equally intense regarding her pack.
Something was off, especially Bridget. He couldn't gauge
them, probably because of their pure blood and lineage.
Old resentments flared, but he set them aside. He leaned
back in the rocking chair. Raphael closed his eyes, scenting
a delicate aroma of lavender and female. The fragrance
heated his blood and he gripped the rocking chair's armrests
to steel himself against sudden arousal.
"Emily, come out. I'm Raphael, the Kallan. I know you're
there, watching me. I'd like to meet you. Don't be afraid."
Silence filled the air. Then a strong, sweet voice spoke
into the gathering darkness.
"Afraid? You're the one who should be afraid, Raphael
Robichaux."
Her voice deepened with a slight menace. "Very afraid.
Because I carry death with me wherever I go. And my hands,
judging from the way they are itching right now, tell me you
are next."
Something tugged at his conscience. Her voice with its
slight Southern accent seemed familiar. Emotions crowded
him. Most overwhelming was a deep feeling of utter sorrow,
as if part of his very soul were to die.
It was his distress at her youth and growing anger at her
pack's deception that marred his perception. Nothing more.
Raphael dismissed his inner feelings. Emotions were
dangerous and clouded his judgment.
He opened his eyes, staring at the sunlit dappled oaks and
maples. "Good. Then come forward. If you wish me harm, then
have the courage to show yourself."
"Why should I? I've already seen you," the reply came,
followed by a small sniff.
Delight filled him at her snappy attitude. "Seen a lot of
me, have you? Let's look at each other face-to-face and not
through the bathroom window."
Her gasp made his grin widen.
Movement snapped his attention to the left. Raphael half
closed his eyes, waiting.
A figure emerged from the woods. His senses sprang to alert.
The approaching female walked with quiet grace. Light from
the porch showed hair the color of an angry sunset drawn up
tight in a bun like the other Burke females. Damn.