Immortal Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  It exploded in a spurt of his own blood.

  He inspected the wound. The tick was dead, but the bite it left still streamed blood. He clenched his teeth and, using his energy, cauterized the wound. The burn made him want to howl.

  Raphael directed more energy at incinerating his blood droplets into ash. Then he waved a hand, clothing himself once more.

  Never had he been this weakened, this drained. His mind distracted by Emily, he’d forgotten to check for hitchhikers. What the hell was wrong with him that he’d forgotten the basics?

  Limping heavily, he headed for his cabin. Hunger gnawed at him. He needed energy, fast. A thick steak.

  As he passed by Emily’s cabin, he spotted her sitting on the front porch in a rocker. She leaned forward, studying him.

  “You look like you’re hurt. What happened?” she said anxiously.

  He waved a careless hand. “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.” A tiny frown dented her forehead. “I thought the Kallan was impervious to injury, and your healing abilities are far superior than other Draicon’s. The other pureblood Kallans were.”

  She thought his impure blood was his weakness. Anger surged through him. Raphael leveled a look at her.

  “I told you, I’m not like other Kallans.”

  As he dragged himself back to his cottage, switched on the lights and then headed for a fresh steak in the fridge, he wondered if she were right.

  There seemed no way their two worlds could mesh. Not when his bloodlines stood in the way of their ever bonding as mates. Emily could not fit into his lifestyle. A hollow feeling settled on his chest at the thought of her even trying. His darkness contrasted sharply to her lightness. If they ever did bond, he would blot out everything good and innocent about her. In the mating lock, when bonded mates exchanged emotions and powers, would she absorb his dangerous powers and become as jaded and cynical?

  She didn’t want to be different.

  With him, she’d have no choice.

  Raphael hunted through the refrigerator and realized he’d have to defrost his supplies, since he’d given all the fresh meat to Emily. He removed a package of hamburger to thaw, then collapsed onto the nearest chair. Not good enough for her. No matter what he did, how powerful he was, his mixed blood meant he could never become equal to her.

  His duty was clear. The future was murky. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to find out.

  Emily’s destiny. Her death. He could foresee it, if he wanted.

  The soft rap at the door made him tense. Summoning the strength, he limped over, opening it, knowing who stood outside. Raphael leaned against the jamb. “What is it, Emily?”

  She thrust a covered platter at him. “I thought, since you were nice enough to stock my fridge, you’d need this.”

  The steak beneath the cover made him salivate. Balancing it on one palm, he opened the door. She went to his kitchen, looking pretty and delicate in the new floral dress she’d purchased.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  Gold-tipped lashes hid the expression in her eyes as she studied his feet. “Because you need me.”

  Raphael caught her gloved hand in his. “Sit with me,” he said quietly. “I hate dining alone.”

  Her mouth tilted upward in a soft smile, and he was touched by the sweetness of both her gesture and her expression. He put the hamburger into the fridge and watched her bustling around the room and preparing the meal. No one ever questioned his needs before. No one since his parents had cared for him or dared to confront him. He was expected to be everything and have no need of anyone.

  Needing her made him feel oddly vulnerable, yet deep inside, he hungered for her companionship, the sweetness of her femininity. She was one of the very few who dared to treat him normally. To tease him, mock him, and knew he liked it, liked the informality between them.

  Damn, he needed her, and he didn’t like needing anything, or anyone.

  The steak was thick as a tire wheel, rare, sprinkled with green flakes and smelled delicious. He inhaled the fragrance and cocked an eyebrow at her. Emily set his plate on the table.

  “Rosemary, sage and other herbs for balance,” she told him.

  Mischief danced in her green eyes, and they lightened to teal as she stood on one foot, extending her leg like a ballerina’s. “See? Balance.”

  Charmed, he took her slim ankle in one hand, examining it, feeling a mischief of his own. His eyes widened at the glint of thin gold draped about her ankle. He picked it up with a question in his eyes.

  Emily lifted her chin. “I bought it when you weren’t looking. I like how it looks.”

  “So do I.”

  Raphael pushed up the hem of her dress, exposing the curve of one calf. He slid another hand over her skin, delighting in her sharp intake of breath and the scent of her arousal, then he stopped.

  “Your legs are hairless, smooth,” he noted, frowning. “I thought your pack embraced everything natural.”

  Pink tinted her cheeks. “We are. They are. Unlike them, I, ah, don’t have any.”

  “Body hair?” he asked frankly.

  Emily flushed further. “I’m not like other Draicon females,” she muttered, yanking her foot free. “Father told me so. I’m only fertile in the spring and I never developed any hair like they do.”

  Surprised, he studied her, then sensed her embarrassment of being different. Raphael cupped her cheek. “Hey, chere,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful, and nothing would change my opinion of that.”

  Her smile was like the sunrise. “You’re beautiful as well,” she said, then pulled away with a teasing glint in her eyes. “For a big, hairy male.”

  Raphael laughed as she danced away.

  As they ate, Emily filled the silence by talking about poetry she enjoyed. They began a hearty discussion about books. He enjoyed rattling her cage, watching her eyes spark with fire and passion as she disagreed with him, and equally enjoyed watching her sigh with pleasure when she talked about her favorite poets.

  Pushing back from the table, he felt stronger physically. Then he remembered.

  The steak soured in his stomach. He had to do it, for her sake. If there was a way he could see saving her, he must.

  “Emily, come here.”

  At the deep timbre of his voice, she approached. He released a breath. “I have to see something. Don’t be afraid. Let me look into your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to see what the future holds for you. It will tell me what your destiny is.”

  She hung back, her hands clenched at her sides. For a moment he thought she’d not trust him but would turn and walk away. When she stepped forward, he felt a surge of relief even as he dreaded what he must do.

  So many times he’d done this with others. Never someone this close. Never someone who mattered this much.

  He closed his eyes briefly, summoning all his strength. Opening them, he very gently cupped her cheek with his left hand. With his right thumb and forefinger, he opened wide her right eye.

  Staring deeply into it, he sought the information only he as Kallan could find.

  To foresee her future.

  Her death.

  But as her green irises shifted to storm-cloud gray, he did not see Emily’s demise. Instead, he saw raindrops.

  Crystalline droplets of water falling from the sky, as if it wept. More and more cascading down in a torrent, striking the ground like hard bullets. A shapeless form hovered in the background. He strained to identify it.

  The form shimmered, took on a body. A naked man, shoulder-length black hair plastered to his head like a helmet, his muscled shoulders heaving as if he sobbed.

  The man cried louder, and the rain fell harder. Raphael’s heart twisted at the man’s wrenching grief, as if he’d lost his soul. His heart.

  His life.

  A scream echoed as he lifted his head, crying out to the sky. Raphael’s heart stopped. He dropped his hand, and stepped back,
a horrified cry lodged in his throat.

  He had not seen Emily’s future nor foreseen her death.

  Instead he’d seen himself, crying over what he must do, the dictate that he could not ignore.

  The prophecy was clear as the raindrops. In the depths of her eyes, he sobbed, reacting to the order he’d been given from one who could not be questioned. No way out, no escape from the horror of his future.

  Raphael shuddered.

  Chapter 9

  R aphael had escorted her formally back to her cabin, his handsome face taut. He said nothing about what he’d seen in her eyes. No words were needed. The grim expression told her enough.

  After he politely bid her good-night, and made no attempt to kiss her, she watched him leave. He obviously would not watch over her tonight.

  His broad shoulders were set as solid as granite. Here in the privacy of her little home, she allowed herself the luxury of grief. She was well and truly alone.

  She hated it. Hated being apart from all others, and condemned because of it. Raphael was set apart just as she was. Yet he had not known the isolation she had, the fear of always being driven off.

  Little she could do about it now. With a philosophical shrug, Emily climbed between the clean, white sheets and fell into an exhausted slumber.

  The nightmares soon began. Sharp, jagged, tainted with stains of old blood and blackness. She raced through her beloved woods. Prey. Naked, alone, she ran, stones cutting her feet. Cold air slapped against her flesh. Her breath came in harsh pants. They chased her, hot and eager for her blood, their claws reaching out for her, so close she could feel the talons hovering near. There, in the distance, a figure, tall and strong, waiting for her. Her mate, who would save her. Emily cried out, reaching for him with frantic hands. Light shimmered around him, and his strong muscled body seemed assured of protecting her. His face was all classic lines, his body honed from steel. He reached out to her as she ran forward. He held in his hands a dagger and raised it and as she stuttered to a frantic stop, too late, she realized he had not come to save her but to destroy her.

  Emily cried out. She thrashed and moaned, trying to awaken before the sharp blade bit into her flesh.

  Soft murmurs sounded in her ear. She felt a hard, warm body beside hers, a calloused hand gently stroke her brow. Someone was crooning to her in a language she didn’t understand, soothing her out of her nightmare.

  Her eyelids flew open. In the light of the waxing moon, she turned and saw him.

  Raphael. He’d returned after all, to guard her sleep.

  Her angel of death.

  She inched away from him. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you I was going to stay with you to watch over you. Then you called out and I came.”

  He sat up, his muscled chest naked in the moonlight. Raphael wore fleece pants and nothing else. Moonlight silvered his dark hair, reflected in the depths of his onyx eyes. “Emily, please, let me help you. I need answers as much as you do.”

  A hint of grief laced his tone. She wanted to trust him, reach out to him, but could not. Emily faced him down. “Your time is endless, unlimited. Mine is finite and short. You have nothing to lose. I have everything to lose. How can you even begin to understand my world and what I’m going through?”

  “I want to understand. Let me in, allow me to see through your eyes. Work with me and let me see the ancient texts.”

  And what if he saw what she’d translated? Would he take it as a sign to fulfill his duty and execute her as planned? Would he give up on her as her own people had? Emily clutched the sheet to her breasts.

  “Go away, Kallan,” she whispered. “There is nothing here for you. You aren’t like us, and never will be, so please, just go away.”

  Raphael returned to her living-room couch and the pillow he’d set there. As he sat, he punched the pillow with a hard fist.

  Feathers exploded out of the casing as it split under the force of his blow. He coughed and gave a rueful smile as he blew feathers out of his face.

  How utterly ridiculous he looked now. The powerful Kallan, Destroyer. Dealer of death!

  Covered with fluff.

  His smile faded. How he wished the dilemma before him was equally soft. No, it was a rock wall impassable to everything. Everything inside him demanded he protect his mate, tenderly care for her. He wanted Emily, wanted her body next to his as he guarded her in sleep. The feel of her softness against his tensed muscles had raised every primitive male instinct to roll her onto her back, mount her and make her his.

  Instead, he’d focused on soothing away her fear and pain. In return, she chased him away again.

  When would she open up to him and share?

  He fingered the tiny gold dagger dangling from his earlobe, his guts twisting at the thought of using the Scian on his mate. He couldn’t imagine using it to end Emily’s life. Yet if he failed, he put Gabe’s life in danger. The Burke pack wouldn’t hesitate to kill his brother.

  He would also fail in his duty as Kallan for the first time. Being Kallan was his sole identity, paralleling on a track with his Cajun roots.

  Raphael set about cleaning up the mess he’d made. His body tensed as he remembered another time and place when he’d faced an equal mess.

  Peach juice, pulp smeared on his face. The cruel sounds of laughter from the town boys as they pointed and mocked him…

  It was in the past, he reminded himself as he brushed the last feathers from the bed and dumped them into the wood trash bin. He was Kallan now. Immortal, nearly invincible. The position elevated him above his lowly birth, gave him purpose.

  Purpose lost now that he faced the inevitable horror.

  And why did you become Kallan?

  Introspection served no purpose. His responsibility was first to Emily. He had to guide her to what to expect if she died. When she died, he thought, his heart heavy. Prepare her for the inevitable, even as his own heart broke. Her needs came first. He could not allow his personal feelings and emotions to interfere with duty.

  Raphael radiated power and command, despite his laconic posture as he leaned against the porch railing, regarding Emily with his steady, dark gaze. Instead of his usual attire, Raphael was dressed in a cranberry cable-knit sweater and neatly pressed dark trousers. Beneath the trousers his bare toes peeped out.

  Like her, he was barefoot.

  His dark hair was tied back with a leather thong. It accented the strong planes of his chiseled face and the firmness of his jaw. A flutter started in her belly as he gave her a slow smile.

  He didn’t resemble the males of her pack, but this ordinary dress came close. Her jaw came unhinged as he presented her with a single sprig of English lavender.

  “It smells like you, so I picked it in your garden,” he offered.

  Emily took the flowers, inhaled their delicate fragrance, and opened the door to allow him inside.

  He paced around her living room, his weight making the floorboards creak. She thought about her lonely bed and imagined him in it, only this time his big body on top of hers. She’d seen animals mate and knew what transpired. Emily imagined Raphael gently rocking back and forth atop her, thrusting into her and making the mattress creak. The odd flutter started in her stomach again.

  He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Emily, I need to know something. As Kallan, I need to grant your last wishes. What is your heart’s desire?”

  The blunt question made her drop the sprig of lavender. It lay there, a splotch of color against the dark hardwood floor. Her heart’s desire? Other than to live, and embrace life, she wanted much. A mate of her own. Raphael. A mate whose destiny was to cherish and love her, as her pack had once loved her. An ordinary life in an ordinary world.

  It wasn’t meant to be. Whatever wrong she’d done to invoke such a curse on herself, if she had, couldn’t be reversed.

  “Em?”

  His voice held such tenderness, she could only gaze at him with abject sorrow. He truly wan
ted to make her feel good and see to her needs. Not the actions of the coldhearted but of proud and pureblooded Kallans in the ancient stories. Desire to draw closer, and share with him, bond with him in the flesh, warred with her natural self-preservation.

  Emily used humor as a defense against his charm and her own instincts to mate and bond.

  “Right now I have one wish. I wish you’d put some shoes on. You look like you’re turning to ice.”

  The wide grin he gave her melted her heart. He looked so handsome. Raphael sat on her couch, propped a bare foot up on her coffee table. She liked his informality.

  “I was in such a hurry, I left my boots in my cabin.” He wiggled his toes, the mighty Kallan looking as boyish as a youngling.

  Mischief filled her. Emily raced into her bedroom, fished through her closet and found the slippers she’d purchased for her father when she was eleven. They were lined with soft fur, and he’d loved them dearly, even though she suspected he’d only worn them to please her.

  The slippers fell onto Raphael’s lap. “Try these on.”

  Disbelief touched his face as he picked them up. “Bunny slippers? You want me to wear bunny slippers?” Raphael cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to push me off my mighty pedestal, chere?”

  The giggle warbled up from her stomach and spilled out of her like water as he donned the slippers and pretended to attack his feet. “Prey, prey,” he shouted.

  Collapsing with laughter, she sank onto the couch, holding her stomach.

  He fell onto the couch beside her, laughing as well. After a minute, they stopped, panting for breath, tears streaming down their cheeks.

  His smile faded as he gave her a tender look. “It’s so good to hear you laugh.” He tweaked a stray red curl. “I would almost sacrifice my dignity again to hear it more often.”

  At the mention of the word sacrifice, her mood shifted. “I wish I could find it in me to laugh more,” she said softly, her heart wrenching.

  “Let’s get back to why I’m here. What do you want more than anything else that I may do for you?”