by Bonnie Vanak
The steps creaked as Maureen plodded downstairs. He glanced at his captor, who bore a bowl of raw, bloody organs in her hands. Dinner for him.
Suddenly a muddied wolf loped out from beneath the staircase. Maureen seemed disinterested in the four-legged newcomer.
“Urien? I thought I smelled you. Hungry again?” Mo yawned. “It’s my turn to feed him and keep watch, though it’s a waste. Emily will never come for him. She’s too afraid of her own shadow.”
“Wrong, cousin. Emily isn’t afraid. No longer.”
Mo opened her mouth, her eyes wide as silver dollars at Emily in human form. Raphael sprang out from his corner, but Emily acted first. She whirled and grabbed the Sacred Scian still coated with her blood. The Burke cousin made no sound as his draicara swiftly stabbed her in the heart.
A bubble of blood frothed on Mo’s lips as she staggered back. Dread speared Raphael. Mo was immortal now, thanks to his blood. The wound felled her as she gasped and toppled downward.
But it would not kill her.
The Scian tumbled from Emily’s outstretched fingers and clattered on the floor. A low laugh spilled from her lips.
“I guess I have truly killed Mo now,” Emily whispered. “I didn’t want to risk it with my hands, because I’m no longer certain I have the death touch. I couldn’t risk it, not if I came here to do what my heart urges me to do.”
Raphael picked up his dagger, studied the blood on it. Maureen’s blood mingling with Emily’s. Something nagged him, but he dismissed it and used Maureen’s skirt to carefully wipe the blood from the blade. He tugged his earlobe, and the Scian appeared on his left earring. Raphael nudged his draicara.
“Emily, she’s not dead, just temporarily stunned, as I was when you stabbed me. She can’t be killed. We need to get out of here.” The urgency of his voice seemed to penetrate the fog of her misery. Emily nodded.
Together they shifted, and as wolves they fled out the open basement window. But something nudged Raphael to look backward, into the basement.
Grime coated the window. Surely it was the dirt, and his imagination, for the body on the basement floor that was Maureen had vanished. In its place was a pile of ash.
And a wolf stood next to it.
A day later, the Morphs that once were her pack had fled. Raphael sensed it in his blood.
They would return and try to capture him again. Let them try, he thought grimly.
On the back porch of her cabin, he rocked in the chair, watching Emily feed the birds by hand. Her sweet, lilting laughter floated up to him. He’d showered alone, the cold water mingling with hot to erase the pall of dirt still clinging to him, to try to banish the darkness. He’d then gone outside, tormented by the sounds of water running, Emily in the shower, and images flashing through his mind of her supple body, water cascading down her breasts, beading upon her taut nipples.
His hands gripped the armrests. Depleted of energy, his body had been nurtured by the restorative powers of her blood. Physically, he was well. Mentally, he hungered for her touch. He needed the emotional comfort, and his body sang out for her. The sexual drive was stronger now, the need to mate and achieve a mating lock with her overwhelming.
Her hips swayed gently. The enticing scent of female, Emily, drifted toward him.
The beast inside him roared to life.
When he’d been mired in burning pain while in the basement, he’d clung to thoughts of Emily. Emily’s spunk, her kindness, her intelligence and warmth. Her hunger, how she’d clung to him when he’d driven into her again and again, her white, satin limbs draped over his hips.
He burned for her, his body craved her, feeling her writhe beneath him with her own wild hunger. Raphael fisted his hands, wanting to crush her against him, bury himself in her sweet softness, the scorching heat of her, the innocent purity and goodness of her. Taking her goodness into himself and erasing all the smothering darkness, filling himself with Emily as he emptied himself into her.
He needed her as a Draicon needed his mate. He craved, hungered, the heat building to an inferno, scorching him, needling him to forget all else and just jump off the porch and take her. On the ground, her white limbs spread wide, her pink flesh glistening in welcome, he’d ride her until she writhed and screamed, until he screamed with her, flooding her with his seed, his damn, inferior seed.
Breath heaved out in ragged pants as he stared at her, and he made a strangled sound low in his throat. She was his salvation, his anguish.
She was his, and damn it, he’d have her.
Now.
Emily felt the heat of his burning gaze centered on her back.
She turned, and her gaze collided with Raphael’s. The ferocity of his look, the darkness of his expression, froze her into immobility.
Never had she seen him this intense, this maddened, driven by sheer sexual need. She swallowed hard, his clear message arrowing straight through her body. Moisture gushed between her trembling legs, and her heart raced in response. Warmth suffused her, searing as the intent look he gave her.
His big body trembled, and he clenched his fists. A dark wildness swam in his eyes as if he were close to losing control. She sensed the power inside him welling up, the raw, primitive male demanding they bond in the flesh.
She’d barely cleared the steps when he reached for her and took her mouth in a deep, crushing kiss. Her mouth was fire, and he was nothing but gasoline fueling it, kissing her, muttering against her lips as he took and teased and stroked. Emily gave a little moan, clasped him, fumbling beneath his shirt to touch warm, velvet skin.
“Can’t wait,” he rasped.
Raphael swung her around, pressing her against the door, reached for the hem of her skirt and pushed up. He unzipped his jeans as she wound her limbs about his hips sinuously, still giving him those frantic, begging kisses. He cupped her soft bottom in his hands and lifted her.
The first touch of his shaft to her moist female flesh felt electric. She shuddered, and then he surged forward, driving deep inside her. Shock rippled through her as her flesh shrank back from the raw, primitive force. He was a sudden storm roaring through the forest, shaking all in its path. She could only wrap her arms around him, hold on like a leaf trembling upon a tree.
Raphael raised himself up and she saw the hardness in his eyes as he began thrusting inside her. Behind her, the door rattled on its hinges. Pleasure as spearing as agony pierced her, gripping her as she pleaded, her back arching, hips pumping in desperation. She sought his skin beneath his shirt and dug her fingers deep into his muscled flesh.
He understood and pumped into her harder and faster, penetrating deeper. Emily screamed and dragged her nails down his bare back. Rocking back and forth, he thrust, rasping aloud in Cajun French, until she convulsed with pleasure. He shuddered, went still and shouted her name.
His breath bellowed in her ear as she gulped down air, heard the violent hammering of their hearts. Emily’s legs quivered with the effort to keep them wrapped about his hips.
Finally he lifted his head, the torment faded from his dark eyes. A hank of dark hair hung in his face as he gazed down at her. “Emily. My Emily. Be one with me.”
She caressed the stubble darkening his strong jaw. “Always yours.”
He carried her inside then, still locked within her. Raphael set her down on the bed and began making love to her again, slowly, gently.
For a long while after they’d both reached completion, Raphael held her close, stroking her hair almost absently.
“Peaches,” he muttered. “I hate peaches. I didn’t, once. They…forced it out of me.”
Raphael’s eyes were like dark glass as he stared up at the ceiling. She stroked his hair, weeping inside at his pain. Pain he would not share with her.
She wondered if he ever would.
A while later, Raphael lay in bed, watching Emily sleep. Face flushed from arousal, her lips parted like a child’s, she looked languidly satisfied.
Instinct demanded he achieve
a mating lock and exchange powers and emotions with her. How could he? The darkness inside him would swallow her whole. He could not let her see that part of him he most despised, the weakness that had shattered him as a youngling. The weakness that enabled the Burkes to capture and use him.
Raphael felt the grim irony of his fate hang on his shoulders like twin weights. If he were pureblooded and better suited for Emily, the Burkes could not have used his blood. It would have destroyed them.
Instead, he had nurtured them into becoming immortals like himself.
For the first time since he became Kallan, he loathed the powers he’d been given. His own pride and desire to become mightier than purebloods could be the downfall of their race.
I am truly the Destroyer, he thought bitterly. Because of me, our race can be destroyed.
He needed to get her the hell out of there. Knowing how powerful her family now was, and what danger he and Emily faced, made him feel as vulnerable as a fish to the deadly caiman.
Awakening her with soft kisses, noting ruefully the scrape on her jaw from his rough beard, he watched her sleepily open her eyes. “Chere, we need to talk. It’s too dangerous to stay here. I can’t defeat your family.” He dragged in a deep breath, hating to admit it was his fault. His mixed blood that gave them strength. “They have enough of my blood inside them, and they’re immortal now. They can’t be killed.”
Anger shimmered in her emerald eyes, and then they flashed to a tempestuous brown, mirroring the twist of her pretty mouth. She sat up, the sheet spilling to her hips, her satiny breasts pale in the dim light.
“They used you, enticed you here for this. Somehow we have to find a way to defeat them. They hurt you for their own means, their power.”
Something was off. If Emily didn’t kill her father or Helen, why had they both collapsed after she touched them? He gently grasped her palms. Frowning, he turned them over. “Yet the prophecies state your touch is to be feared,” he mused. “If it were a ruse by your family, why would the texts say that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe by the next full moon I can find out.”
The next full moon, in less than two weeks.
He sprang out of bed, made calls on the landline, summoning the cavalry. Five of the strongest, baddest Draicon he knew.
His brothers.
“Now what?” She looked at him expectantly as he hung up.
“We’re leaving, tomorrow. By the time we return, my brothers will be here.”
Danger lurking in the shadows outside still threatened. Even with his mighty powers, he could not see how he could stop what the Burkes had become. They were immortal. Invincible.
When her family returned, all hell would break loose.
Chapter 14
L ater that day, they departed on his bike. Raphael rode through the national park, wind whipping past them. Pine and oak trees flanked them as they wound through the mountains.
After a while, Raphael stopped for a break, parking the bike on the side of the road. He removed a small canvas bag from one of the saddlebags, slung it over his shoulder. They walked in silence, absorbing the sounds of the wilderness until arriving at a meadow. Thistle-wood, Queen Ann’s lace and goldenrod blossomed among the meadow grasses. Pine trees and oak ringed the meadow. They avoided the meadow, sticking to the trees, coming across water gurgling in a small creek. He bent down and cupped his palms and drank, then offered her some. She drank from his hands, droplets sliding down her chin.
They sat on small rocks by the creek and Emily opened the sack Raphael had set down. She drew out a peach and an apple, offering them to him.
Raphael looked at the peach as if had a worm wriggling in it. He selected the apple and bit into it with his strong white teeth. She ate the peach, juice sliding down her chin, and she licked her mouth.
Raphael finished the apple and stared at her mouth. His nostrils flared.
“I’ve hated peaches for a long time,” he murmured, tossing aside the apple core.
Emily licked her lips again, set aside the peach. “Maybe it’s about time you tried one again.”
A shadow darkened his eyes, reflected an inner torment. Guided by instinct and need to chase away his ghosts, Emily leaned forward and kissed him.
She licked his mouth, tasting him, letting him taste the peach juice on her lips as she flicked her tongue past his lips. Raphael closed his eyes and drew her closer, deepening the kiss.
Then he swiftly moved and was tugging off her jeans, shimmying down her panties. Raphael spread her legs wide and put his mouth on her. Emily cried out in shock at the smooth, warm slide of his tongue between her moist folds. Her hands fisted in his dark hair as he kissed and licked her. Holding her legs open with his hands, he stroked until she bit back a scream and convulsed with pleasure.
She sensed the desperate need in him when he drew back. His body tensed, his eyes were wild as his breathing grew ragged.
She felt him behind her. She heard the rasp of his zipper sliding down, felt his warm hands clasp her hips.
“Bend over and place your hands on the rock,” he said roughly.
The rounded knob of his penis touching her soaked, hot entrance made her go still. Raphael gripped her hips and then surged deep inside her. Emily cried out as her palms flattened against the rough granite. He went absolutely still.
She understood his need, the urgency. He needed to bond with her in the flesh, sink deep inside her and lose himself. Emotionally he was remote and haunted, so he reached out to her physically. She arched her hips in welcome, signaling to him her own need and her acceptance of his demands.
He increased the speed of his thrusts, his flesh slapping against hers, then he wrapped a strong arm around her and touched her center. Emily flew apart with a cry and felt his seed spurt deep inside her.
After, he held her in his arms, burying his head against her shoulder. She wanted to cry.
She did not.
They hiked back to the bike and resumed the ride through the park. When they reached North Carolina, she sensed his eagerness mingling with apprehension.
After a long while, they came to a narrow path winding up a remote mountain. The path led to a small gravel opening. The house was larger than her cottage, and its tall peaks seemed to soar into the sky.
Raphael turned off the bike and kicked down the stand. He slid off, turning to watch her expression.
A riot of wildflowers lined a rough rock bed, giving way to a smooth expanse of emerald green. To her left came the sounds of a small brook trickling down to a pond. Rough-hewn pine benches sat before the pond.
“Where are we?”
“It’s called Sanctuary.”
Peace suffused her as they stepped inside. The house welcomed her with its natural wood setting and furniture carved from white pine and stuffed with thick cushions. A large wool area rug with a dark green floral print covered the hardwood floor. The wingback chairs, love seats and wood tables scattered about the living room gave the room a welcoming feeling. Cream walls set off the wood-framed picture windows. At the room’s opposite end, built-in bookshelves invited reading at one of the chairs with brass reading lamps.
He hauled their knapsacks into a large bedroom with colorful rag rugs, an acre-wide bed covered with a soft ecru down quilt and wood dressers. She investigated and found modern facilities, including bathrooms and a kitchen with a gas range and a fully stocked refrigerator.
“The house is a training ground for all Kallan, but it also serves as a refuge for other Draicon who need to escape threats from the Morphs. A female acts as housekeeper and stocks the kitchen with food once a week. It’s a retreat for anyone who needs to feel sheltered and safe,” he explained.
They made thick sandwiches of rare roast beef and slabs of white cheese and held an impromptu picnic on the table outside as the sun slowly descended into the mountains. When they finished, he cleaned up as she unpacked. Emily went to the living room and found him studying a book as thick as a railroad tie
.
Emily sat down on the leather sofa, watching him. He seemed absorbed, almost as if engaged in a ritual, and she didn’t disturb him.
When he went outside, she followed. A large expanse of sloping meadow greeted them, the silvery grasses leading to a rough trail up the mountainside. Raphael glanced at her. “Come with me, Emily. Let’s change and run.”
Raphael needed to howl, be free and run. He needed her by his side, as well.
But Emily stepped back, hugging herself. Raphael studied Emily, troubled by her pallor. A lemon wedge of moon hung low in the sky. Inky blackness draped the sloping meadow. Raphael held out a hand.
“Come, Emily. The night is lovely. Look at the moon.”
She hung back.
“Come, change and run with me. You don’t have to hunt. Just run. You did it before when you saved me, and it’s safe here. No Morphs can infringe on this land. There are hundreds of acres for us to explore,” he coaxed.
“I can’t.”
“You did before.”
Night vision showed fear flickering in her eyes. “That was different. You were in trouble. I’m scared, Raphael. Scared of turning. I just can’t.”
He gentled his voice and touched her arm, needing the contact between them. “Chere, why are you afraid?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” A short, sad laugh followed. “You of all people. Immortal. Powerful.”
“I understand more than you know.”
Rubbing her arms, she remained silent. He reached out and tipped her chin upward with one finger. “Em, I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me.”
“All right!” She jerked away from him. “It’s not just trying to impress my pack with the fact that I refuse to kill. I’m afraid of running in the dark.”
He stared, totally flummoxed.
“I’m afraid because the darkness—it must be what death is like. Empty blackness. Nothing after.”
The small whisper jerked his heart. Tenderness mingled with sorrow. “Ah, chere,” he said softly. “You are wrong, so wrong. This is where I can help you.”