by Bonnie Vanak
“With stories of happily ever after?” She dodged his outstretched arms. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“The truth,” he said quietly. “Trust me, I know death and what it’s like. How it feels to die, and what happens afterward, in the Other Realm.” He closed his eyes, remembering the moment the previous Kallan had sunk the blade into his chest. The sharp flash of pain, the draining feeling and the white mist surrounding him…
“What’s it like in the Other Realm?”
“It’s peaceful, serene, beautiful. Endless forests and glades. Friends who have gone before you to greet you. No pain. No hunger.” He touched her cheek, running his thumb over her soft skin. “Emily, it’s wonderful. I wouldn’t lie, especially not to you. There’s nothing to fear.”
“But you came back. And the others can’t.”
Raphael acknowledged this with a slight nod. “I did. I experienced death, though, the same as others.”
“But it’s not the same. Even if you were afraid, and had to have total trust, you knew if you were brave enough to risk it, you’d come back. Be immortal. Never again fear death, until you were too old and weary to continue. It’s not the same. How can you even think what you went through is the same? You’re different.”
“You are as well,” he said quietly. He held out a hand, silently looking at her and using their unique telepathic connection. Be with me. Run with the night, and be free. I will watch over you. No darkness will harm you.
She studied his palm and shook her head. “No. I have to do this by myself. If I don’t, I’ll always be afraid. The fear will always rule me.”
Respect washed over him. Raphael marveled at her inner strength, her gritty resolve. He stepped back and watched her shimmy out of her clothing.
Iridescent sparks shimmered and then turned into pure white light. Awestruck, he stared as the cloud of white surrounded Emily. He’d never witnessed anything like this.
Then suddenly a white wolf appeared where his mate once stood.
A white wolf. The significance slammed into him as the wolf, its eyes shining bright, turned to him. Dropping to his knees, he reached out and ran his hands over the luxurious, thick pelt. The wolf nuzzled his cheek. Then it turned, pawed at the ground, lifted its head and released a long, mournful howl and silently loped toward the forest.
Every instinct hammered at him to run after her. He did not. Instead he headed for a flat boulder to wait for her return.
Raphael sat on the rock, staring up at the mountain. Tonight he would make love to Emily, giving her pleasure again and again. And by the week’s end, he would go into the mountain and ask a favor of another. A chill shuddered down his spine. He recognized and acknowledged it.
Fear.
They spent the next few days lazily in the lodge, reading, making love, talking. On the fourth day after they dozed in a light nap, naked in bed together, Raphael stalked toward the window and lifted the curtains with the back of his hand.
He was ever protective of her, even here in this place that held all the protection.
Her hungry gaze took in his long, muscled body, the athletic limbs dusted with dark hair, the pads of muscle on his back, the tautness of his buttocks. Suddenly he swung around, his dark intense gaze meeting hers.
A hot blush covered her cheeks. Emily hugged her knees. “I like watching you,” she confessed.
A slow smile touched his mouth. “Watch all you like. I enjoy it.”
Her eyes rounded and she released a slight gasp as her gaze dropped to the nest of dark hair at his groin and his genitals. His penis, which had hung slack between his legs, now began to grow hard and erect. Beneath her fascinated and astonished gaze, it grew longer and thicker as it rose until it practically touched his belly button.
Raphael’s gaze intensified. “So you see, I do indeed like watching you watch me.”
He joined her on the bed. “Ma belle petite,” he murmured, kissing her. “My beautiful Emily. Love me again with your hands. Let me feel the touch of your fingers upon me.”
She traced a pattern on his chest, swirling her fingers in the dark, thick hairs upon his chest.
One by one he kissed her fingers with reverence. Emily closed her eyes.
Raphael flexed his powerful muscles. His look was intent, an odd shimmering in his dark eyes. He slowly caressed her, then his big hands touched her lower belly. Taking his time, he aroused her to a fever pitch. Her skin felt flushed, hot, and she was in desperate need of him.
“Please,” she begged, tugging at him. “I need you inside me now.” She spread open her legs wide.
Raphael gave her an intent look and mounted her. In a deep voice, he murmured words she didn’t understand and then entered her hard and fast. His thrusts were deeper than ever before, his strokes pounding into her with a hungry ferocity. She climaxed first, screaming as she clutched at him.
He followed after, his entire body going rigid as he threw back his head. Cords and tendons in his neck strained as he cried out her name and his body shuddered as he kept coming.
At last he fell atop her, spent. Then still joined, he rolled her so she lay atop him. They lay like that for a few minutes, then he gradually separated their bodies.
Resting his head atop her lower belly, he gave a drowsy, sexy smile.
She wished it could be like this forever.
In the morning, Raphael awoke to the delicious feeling of a soft female body lying in his arms. Her musky, floral scent flooded his senses. He studied the long sweep of golden lashes feathering Emily’s cheeks, her slightly parted lips.
She was beautiful.
She was his.
And he must kill her.
His heart twisted. Must not think of that now. Gently, he kissed her and slipped out of bed to shower.
By the time he finished and began to shave, Emily was awake. Wrapped in a sheet, she sat on the bed, swinging her bare legs. Raphael tried not to look through the open bathroom door. This was intimate, cozy, a scene shared between bonded mates.
Bonded mates meant to remain bonded, not torn apart as they were destined. He scraped the razor over his thick whiskers, noting with rueful amusement the approaching full moon. His beard was always heavier during that time of the month.
“What was the hardest assignment you’ve ever had to do?”
Her sweet, melodious voice softened the blunt impact of the question, like a mortar cloaked in velvet. He set down the razor, wiped soap off his face. Bracing his hands on either side of the sink, he regarded the male in the mirror.
You, Em. I can’t do this. How can I take your life, even if the prophecy says I must? I’d rather take my own.
He glanced sideways at her. “An elderly female. My first assignment. She was so happy to leave, and relieved to see me. Very grateful.”
Emily slid off the bed and came toward him, her hips swaying gently. He tensed against her approach, the beguiling innocence in her green eyes, the concerned look on her lovely face.
I am darkness. Death. You told me your hands killed with your touch, you contaminated. You’re wrong, chere. I am the one who is shunned, and feared. Except for you and my family, all others of our people regard me as an outcast. You’re goodness and light.
I am death.
“Why was it so hard for you if she was so eager to go?”
Silence hung in the air for a minute as he lowered his head. Little bits of dark whisker lay there dotting the white porcelain sink, like tiny insects blotching a landscape of snow.
“I think because she was so grateful. She made me feel guilty for doing it.”
“What was it like for you, that first time?”
Fear darkened her eyes. Emily clung to the doorjamb, hanging back yet so close. He picked up the razor, turned it over and over in his hands.
“I was terrified. Either the knife would slip or I would lose my nerve. It took far too long for me to say the words and do the deed. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes turning from trust and joy to dou
bt and then terror.”
He set down the razor, his voice a bare whisper. “The terror was the last thing I saw before I did it and closed her eyes. I will always carry that weight of knowing had I been quicker and more efficient, as a Kallan should, I would not have given her time to fear.”
Raphael could not meet her gaze. His chest felt hollow with grief.
If Aibelle didn’t grant his request, what could he do?
How could he terminate the life of his beloved mate?
Chapter 15
I n the morning, just before dawn, Raphael awoke. He very gently slid his arms from Emily. She stirred in her sleep, murmuring as if missing his warmth. Brushing a kiss against her temple, he whispered words of love.
Naked, he padded to the door and slipped outside.
Rose and violet light streaked the sky. Cold air slapped against his flesh. Wet earth and pine scented the air. He headed straight for the grassy meadow, leading to the path. Raphael began to climb the mossy, needle-strewn path, following the sounds of the brook paralleling it.
Fallen logs demarked the edges. The going was slippery from dead leaves and the previous night’s rain, but his steps were sure. About a mile up the mountain, he came to a dead end.
The path ended at a silvery waterfall spilling down granite rocks. A sheer cliff rose one hundred feet upward, its mossy, slick edges forbidding access. Pine and oak trees above stood like silent sentinels. Water cascaded down the rocks, pooling in a small pond, then tumbling down the mountain.
Sacred, the waterfall was forbidden to other Draicon. Only the most courageous and purest of heart could ascend. Only those the goddess deemed worthy could climb.
Raphael sucked in a breath and plunged into the pond beneath the spray. Icy needles stung his skin. He took the natural soap resting on a rocky ledge and scrubbed his body for several minutes. Pine scented the air as he lathered and rinsed beneath the waterfall. His skin was raw and red. He opened his lips, letting water gush into his mouth. The mystic falls tasted of whatever emotion was reflected in the person drinking. When he’d last visited, the water was sweet and refreshing. Today it tasted bitter.
He stepped out of the spray. Wet, naked, he shook himself and bowed down in silence. After a moment he uttered the sacred words.
To the left of the waterfall, stone steps magically appeared in the cliff.
Raphael shifted into wolf.
Wolf senses flared to life. He scented deer droppings, a rabbit hiding nearby. His wolf ignored these smells and bounded up the barely visible path. Up he climbed, following the scent trail of others who had gone before him.
For one hundred feet he climbed, his paws nearly skidding on moss-covered rocks. Leaves drifted silently downward, caught by a slight wind rustling through the oak, pine and maples. Finally he reached the rise.
The clearing boasted a supreme view of cloud-shrouded mountains, brilliant splashes of gold, crimson and orange leaves. Raphael shifted back to his human form. Naked he walked over to the stone circle and knelt in supplication. Motionless he remained, centering his thoughts, his arms crossed over his chest. He ignored the piercing chill racking his body.
One did not ask for such a tremendous favor while complaining of the cold.
A voice spoke in the hushed silence.
“What do you ask?”
He kept his eyes closed. “In this sacred spot, great and wise one, I seek wisdom and guidance. I am Kallan, come to ask of you.”
“Then enter my realm, and be welcome. Walk into the mist.”
Raphael stood and squinted at a veil of brilliant white fog shrouding the edge of the cliff. He steeled himself and gathered his courage. To leap into the mist required a leap of faith that one would fall into the Other Realm and not to his death.
He was immortal, but it was a long way down.
He closed his eyes, thought of his feelings for Emily, and jumped. A soft bed of moss cushioned his feet as he landed.
“Open your eyes, Kallan, and see.”
Doing as he was asked, he glanced around. The mist lifted, revealing the green, soft images of the Other Realm. The deep forest, cheerful chirping of birds overhead and scampering of animals seemed to be of earth, but to his senses, everything smelled cleaner, looked more serene. It was as if someone had scrubbed away all the pollutants and darkness and left only the purity.
Aibelle, the earth goddess who created their race, stood in a pool of white light, clad in a forest-green gown. A nimbus of red-gold hair flowed down past her hips. He dared to lift his gaze and glance at her brilliant green eyes. He remained standing but dropped his gaze.
“You have served the people well, Kallan. Your loyalty, courage and strength have marked your duties. What troubles you?” Her voice was soft, lilting as a crystal stream.
Shame crept over him as he thought of the dangers his blood had unleashed on the world. He kept his gaze downward as he told Aibelle what had transpired.
“I know, Raphael. I see all things. There is a great evil force at work that can destroy the Draicon.” Her voice was soft, contrasting to the darkness of her words. “All things will unfold as they will.”
Raphael couldn’t help a small shiver as he summoned his courage. He dropped to his knees, kept his thoughts centered, but ringing through them was a single image. His beloved Emily.
“I came to ask a favor. Please release me from acting as Kallan to terminate the life of Emily Burke.”
Aibelle’s green gaze grew distant. “It is your destiny, Raphael Robichaux, son of Remy. You are Kallan, and you are foresworn to execute Emily Burke, the Chosen One.”
His hands fell to his sides. “It cannot be.” He dared to protest. “She is my draicara, my mate.”
She studied him with calm indifference. “Do you love her?”
Emotion clogged his throat. Love her? Admit to what he himself could barely acknowledge. But if it saved her, saved him from this awful fate, he would shout it out. “Yes,” he said in a strong voice. “More than my own life. She is the missing half of my soul.”
A shadow passed over her face. “I cannot spare you what you must do. To save the Draicon, you are called to do what the prophecies demand. At midnight on the first night of the full moon, you will take the Sacred Scian and plunge it directly into her heart. With her blood on the blade, the Draicon will be saved.”
Hands fisted at his side. “I cannot.”
“You must.”
“How can you ask this of me?” he demanded.
Light shimmered around Aibelle, but the clouds overhead grew angry and dark. A wind blew at him, cutting him to the bone. Raphael dropped his gaze. “I apologize for my forwardness.”
“Remember your place, Raphael. Remember who you are.” The icy breeze faded. He felt her drift over to him and the warmth of her palm resting atop his head. “You were chosen as well. Your blood, and the darkness inside you, has called you for this task. No other will do.”
“My mixed blood.” Bitterness laced his tone.
Her tone was gentle, though the words were not. “You are not pureblood, but you have the powers your pedigree brethren do not possess. It is the reason you were selected by destiny for this.”
He was chosen because he was a mongrel. Inferior. Raphael wanted to protest, to plead. He swallowed hard and thought of his life, his family, his brothers.
He thought of Emily, whom he loved. Her life mattered more.
Raphael bowed his head. “Then I beg a favor of you, great Aibelle. Make me mortal, and no longer Kallan. And trade my life for hers.”
“You wish to sacrifice yourself to save Emily, your mate?”
Words failed him. He could only nod, squeeze his eyes shut, silently plead. He had a good life and had served his race well. He had known the greatest, sweetest love in those precious few days with his mate.
He would die for her, if Aibelle allowed it.
“No.” The goddess’s voice was gentle but firm. “I cannot allow this. You will not escape your fate
this way, Raphael. See not with your eyes, but your heart. Hear not with your ears, but your mind. You possess great intelligence and wisdom. It, and the tremendous depth of your heart, is what made me chose you for Kallan. Do not let emotions cloud your judgment of what must be.”
It felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He could barely breathe.
“Why can’t you save her?” he dared to whisper.
“I cannot interfere in free will. Events will unfold as they must. But if you and Emily are willing to make the greatest sacrifice of all for each other, and your race, you both can save the Draicon.”
It made no sense. He heard a tremendous buzzing in his ears, her voice growing dim as if Aibelle were retreating.
“Go now, Raphael, son of Remy. Bond with your draicara in the flesh as well as the spirit and be one with her. Then fulfill your fate on the first night of the full moon and the reward will be greater than you can imagine.”
A protest died in his throat. He felt the atmosphere shift, a roar sounded in his ears and he shuddered from the force of being caught in a wind as fierce as a tornado. Raphael squeezed his eyes shut, surrendering to the powers.
When he dared to open his eyes, he was curled in a fetal position, lying on the soft, lush grass outside the chalet. Like an elder, he slowly got to his feet, standing on trembling legs. He gazed upward. Gray clouds covered the sky. The forest was utterly still, as if stricken with silence from the mighty power that had delivered him from the Other Realm.
A slow, steady rain began to pour down as if the sky itself were weeping. Droplets splashed on the green leaves, plunked on the stones wreathing the expanse of grass. Fog drifted over the mountains, turning their blueness into mist.
His chest feeling as if crushed by boulders, Raphael raised his face to the rain. He tried to speak, to shout, to say anything, but he could not. His body shuddered and his fists clenched and unclenched. Grief felt like a white-hot arrow thrust into his heart.
As if it split in half, the pain was too horrible to endure.
He opened his mouth once more and tasted something rolling down his cheeks. Salty, wet. Not raindrops.