Blood Law

by Karin Tabke

  She stiffened against him. Anger reverberated between them. “What is the Blood Law? What part do I play in it?”

  Her questions caught him off guard. They shouldn’t have. Of course she wanted answers. “For any organization or civilization to thrive and coexist, there must be a code of conduct and rules by which they are governed. My group is governed by the Blood Law.”

  “Why does your brother have the right to take my life?”

  Guilt stabbed at him. “He doesn’t.” It was true. “However, the council of elders, our governing body, doesn’t agree.”

  “Then why do you act as if he does?”

  Rafe raked his fingers through his hair, not wanting to have this conversation now. Not ever. He could not sway the council, though he had tried. His frustration with them reached a new high. It was not just what they demanded of him.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated?” she shrilled. “You hold my life in your hands, and all you can tell me is, it’s complicated?” He stood quiet, unable to defend himself.

  “I don’t want to die. I will not die because of your Blood Law. If that messes with your day, too damn bad.”

  She grabbed the towel from the floor, her ass brushing against his cock. Rafe swallowed hard. And was grateful when she huffed back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  He let out a long breath and jammed his fingers through his hair again. What was he supposed to say to her? How could he justify her death when he knew with a certainty it was Lucien who should have paid the penalty, not he! Perhaps he should let her escape. Aid her. Cover her scent and hope Lucien did not find her. He was torn in half. There was so much more at stake than one life. He shook his head, forcing that part of his future from his thoughts. The here and now was what was important. Tonight he would hunt. “The clock is ticking. We need to go!” he called after her.

  Several minutes later, Falon emerged, dressed in the fresh clothes he had instructed one of the beta females to purchase that day. She looked hot in the tight black jeans, even with one pant leg rolled up above her cast. The form-fitting blue jersey shirt matched her eyes perfectly. She could only wear one of the black leather boots. He imagined her in thigh-high stiletto boots. And nothing else. His dick lengthened again. Damn. He wanted her in the worst way. Right there, right then. Whether she wanted it or not.

  He grabbed the envelope before he did something she’d never forgive him for and extended his hand. “Come.”

  FALON CHOSE TO put their conversation aside for the moment. Not because she needed Rafael to save her. Thank you very much, she would save herself. Her newfound powers gave her a confidence she had never experienced. She should have embraced her differences years ago. It would have saved her so much misery. But here, with Rafael, she wasn’t shunned. Instead, he embraced her differences; he was the catalyst to their fruition. Maybe she and he were more alike than different. For those reasons alone she didn’t pursue their conversation. It wasn’t like he would indulge her with answers anyway. More importantly, she had a life to save.

  She looked at his strong outstretched hand, well aware of the power held within. Separated from him she was not her most powerful. She slid her hand into his. Warm energy thrummed from his body into hers. United, they would be a formidable force. She looked up at him and saw that he, too, understood the potency of their union. When his fingers possessively entwined with hers, Falon followed him out the door.

  As if a lightning storm followed overhead, energy snapped and crackled around them. Falon was beyond excited, beyond curious at what the night would hold, and more than anything, beyond fascinated.

  Rafael fascinated her. The way he walked as if he owned the world. The way everyone respected him. The compound and its inhabitants fascinated her, and her primal reaction to him each time he touched her fascinated her.

  It terrified her, too. While she would escape this place, part of her understood that what was driving Rafael was his honor—an honor that demanded he follow some ridiculous law, even if he didn’t want to.

  What also fascinated Falon was her emerging personality and strength. Who knew? She had always hidden. Done everything in her power to stay below the radar. She had taught herself how to blend in so seamlessly she didn’t appear to be anything but an innocuous blip. Around Rafael, she felt alive for the first time in her life. Parts of her she hadn’t even known existed had emerged. With a vengeance. Least of all her primal sexual awareness. She didn’t need to read the headlines to tell her Rafe felt her pull as much as she felt his.

  When he had called her “my woman” in front of Anton, she’d been shocked, but in a cavewoman way, she’d also been pleased. Her body trilled when she thought of his big powerful body claiming hers. Her nipples tightened, her breathing became labored, she was wet—

  Abruptly Rafael stopped and pushed her up against the wall in the foyer. His eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared. “I swear to God, Falon, if you don’t turn that off, I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  “I—”

  Rafael grabbed her to his chest; his lips crushed down on hers. Her body jerked as if she’d been shocked. Every part of her responded. The chemistry between them was as shocking as it was terrifying. As quickly as the kiss began, it ended. Falon could barely breathe, much less form a coherent thought. He pressed his forehead against hers as he struggled for composure. His eyes had darkened to the color of a moonless night, their intensity unwavering. Falon lifted her lips to his, wanting more from him. His jaw clenched. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He grabbed her hand again and pulled her through the large doorway. Dazed and confused, wondering what it was she had done to provoke such a reaction from him, Falon stumbled behind him.

  “Saddle up, boys,” he called over his shoulder to the crowd they had just passed through in the great room. “We’re going hunting tonight!”

  Eleven

  A FEW SHORT moments later, out in the large circular yard, choppers roared to life. “Release hell!” Rafael shouted to Anton over the revving V-twins.

  Hell indeed! Falon stiffened as the pack of those black beasts, the same ones that had chased her up a tree, came galloping toward them. Automatically, she backed away, her gaze riveted to their basketball-sized heads and gaping jaws. Ignoring her discomfort, Rafael strode fearlessly toward the animal that had nearly chomped her foot off. It jumped up, placing its huge paws on Rafael’s chest. As if they were long-lost friends, Rafael scratched the beast behind the ears as he spoke to him. Rafael’s words were low and commanding, yet respectful and even affectionate. His easy rapport with the beast should have surprised her, but as she was learning, there was far more to Rafael Vulkasin than his good looks and temper.

  The animal howled and then bolted toward the closed gates. Falon watched in stunned awe as he leapt high into the air and over the two-story wall, nary a paw touching.

  Rafael straddled his chopper and looked over his shoulder at her. He nodded, indicating she should hop on. And what? Ride off into the night in search of the girl? It’s what they were going to do. Why now did she hesitate? A big crazy part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and ride behind Rafael as if she had some right. But the smart part of her knew to even think about trusting him would be a fatal mistake. Wanting to find the girl aside, this is why she pushed so hard to go in search of her, get out of the compound, and make her getaway. And to that end she nodded, more than willing to ride bitch.

  It was not easy. As she tried to mount the bike in a graceful manner, she failed miserably. Her balance was compromised by the weight of her cast. Reaching out, Rafael grabbed her arm, steadying her as she threw her leg over the back fender and precariously settled on what little piece of seat was available.

  Unlike some others in his gang, who had bikes with two distinct seats, Raphael rode stag. She glanced at the women who had followed the men out into the yard and found several of them gazing narrowed-eyed at her. Falon raised her chin. The woman in her felt a s
pike of possessive pride that Rafael wanted her to ride with him. Besides, what did she care what they thought of her? She was not coming back here.

  “What about a helmet?” she asked over the low rumble of the engine.

  Rafael flashed her a disarming smile and patted her on the right thigh. She caught herself from throwing herself into his arms. His smile, holy moly, it changed everything about him. He was happy once. A long time ago. She knew it as surely as she was sitting behind him. What changed it? “You’re safe with me.”

  “Right. Until you hand me over to your brother . . .” His grin faded. And for that she was sorry. She knew he didn’t smile much. That he had for her, warmed her. There she went again; all he had to do was smile at her, and she turned to putty. Jesus, she was losing it. Focus, Falon. Focus on getting away. Far, far away.

  As the chopper lurched forward, Falon grabbed hold of Rafael’s waist. When the gates opened and they swarmed out into the night, she held on for dear life. At the same time, she stayed alert, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. The bright moon was waxing, and oddly, her vision was so sharp she could decipher the trees from the brush and even, if she squinted, see the roosting birds perched on their branches. She shook her head, confused by her continued transformation. In less than a week she had become superwoman. In less than a week she had lost her virginity to a mysterious, powerful man who, though he fought it, was honor bound to hand her over to his brother.

  She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not here. Not this way. Despite her dreary existence, the night she met Rafael, a tiny flame had sparked in her. Since then, it had ignited into an inferno she could scarcely control. Most of the time didn’t want to control it. A flame named Rafael. He’d started something in her she wanted on the most basic level to finish. She wanted to live. She wanted to thrive. She would fight for that right. She refused to be the sacrificial lamb in some blood feud between anyone. But she had work to do first. After having felt the malevolence in Smythe, she could not in good conscience let an innocent little girl be victimized. She would help in any way she could to see that the girl was returned safely to her family. After that? She was gone.

  How ironic. Despite their temporary truce to search for the little girl, Raphael, the man who had breathed life into her, could be her demise. But he was also the man who believed her about Smythe. He made it difficult to resist him. In another place and another time, she might . . .

  She looked around at the saddled bikers hell-bent on saving a little girl. To all appearances, they seemed like your average everyday people. Even for bikers, there was an air of respectability and intelligence about them. Not the rough trade stereotype. Even more paradoxical was Rafael Vulkasin, who was for all appearances a biker. But he was so much more than that. He looked like he had just stepped out of a GQ shoot. His hair was stylishly cut, his clothes designer. He was intelligent, well-spoken, a gentlemen at his core. But he was also lethal. And protective. Overprotective.

  When someone or something threatened her, be it his beloved beasts or that man Smythe, he was on it like white on rice. Was it because he cared for her or because he didn’t want her to die by any other hand than his brother’s?

  Falon’s spine stiffened. She’d fight Rafael, his brother, or anyone else who thought they had the right to take her life. She looked longingly into the darkness that sped past her.

  Her confidence was building. All she needed was a small head start. She might not be able to wield a sword, but those mental lightning bolts—when they came—worked pretty good. Next time Rafael tried to force her to stay put, she would see how it worked on him.

  Rafael.

  The tension in her back eased. He did something to her. Something she had no control over. And in a weird twist of fate, she knew she had the same effect on him.

  Her arms tightened around his waist. She laid her cheek against his back and closed her eyes. Heat swept though her. Blood pumped through her veins, stimulating nerves and pheromones. As her body awoke, so did his. His scent intensified. Hers responded. This was crazy! He was as aroused as she.

  Rafael, why must I die?

  The Blood Law demands it.

  Falon’s eyes flew open and she jerked back, nearly toppling off the bike. What had just happened? Had Rafael heard her? Could he read her thoughts?

  Deep, laconic, dangerous laughter reverberated in her head. So similar to Rafael’s but so different. Lucien! He was dark, angry, impulsive. He wore his hatred for his brother like a neon sign. Whereas Rafael was the bright light of sanity, and a man who she suspected would move mountains to close the chasm between him and his brother, Lucien was the complete opposite. He would not be happy until he destroyed his brother. Why? What had Rafael done to Lucien to elicit such hatred? She shivered. And for the love of God, how was she part of this feud between them? Laws were meant to broken. Who enforced this Blood Law? And how the hell could Lucien read her thoughts?

  My brother may have marked you, lovely, but my blood flows in your veins now, as yours does in mine. I can take you whenever and wherever I like . . .

  Falon closed her eyes and mentally shoved him from her thoughts, much like she did when she first met him. His laughter faded away. How dare he invade her thoughts? How was she, a stranger, responsible for settling a feud? She tightened her arms around Rafael. She believed him when he said she was safe tonight. But what about tomorrow? She would die before she allowed Lucien to touch her. And so her determination to run tonight grew stronger.

  As the bikes ate up the miles, the night grew darker. Falon kept her cheek pressed to Rafael’s back and found peace in his quiet strength. When she looked down at the rushing asphalt, Falon’s stomach rolled with nausea.

  Up to now, she’d missed them, but running on either side of her and keeping up with the motorcycle were two of those humungous black beasts. The biggest one, the one that had torn her boot off, ran to her right. His long tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, the only sign that he exerted any energy at all. She looked over her shoulder to see the rest of the pack loping easily behind them. Their powerful legs ate up the road with their long, ground-eating strides.

  Where was the big golden wolf? Wasn’t he their leader?

  She shook her head, allowing the cool night air to tear through her long strands and fought to keep her waning balance. She was living in the twilight zone. In just the few days since Rafael brought her to his place, it seemed as if a lifetime had passed. Each day was more bizarre and confusing than the day before. But really, should that surprise her?

  She was different. She knew that while she was human, she had otherworldly traits. She could see into certain people’s hearts and souls. And now, when she was terrified or angry, she could shoot mental lightning bolts.

  And . . . there was something else. Something that terrified her more than the brothers. Her rages were flaring with more regularity. No kidding, she thought. Look at the situation you’re in. Anyone would be pissed off. But what happened inside her when her anger flared, barely controllable, bothered her more than her newfound ability to zap people when she felt threatened. Her whole body hurt, down to her bones. She felt as if she were being torn apart, and since her arrival at the Vulkasin compound it had progressed rapidly. She’d seen red when Anton struck Lana. She wanted to tear him apart. The first time she’d felt a hint of this pain was when she was twelve, just before she’d killed for the first time.

  Falon squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, not wanting to think of that night. But images rushed her consciousness.

  It had been a bleak night. The kind horror movies opened with. She’d run from her fifth foster home after a particularly severe beating. Her rage had risen with a ferocity that terrified her. Not wanting to hurt anyone, she took off. It was cold and dark, the air still yet full of energy. The only light showing her the way down the dark and dangerous alley was the muted glow of the full moon through the thick clouds. She’d felt out of sorts. The pain she was becoming famil
iar with had begun. Ironically, it was also the same day she got her period for the first time. Talk about PMS! A man followed her—and tried to force himself upon her. Her survival instinct flared. What came next appalled her, but she had no choice. No control. She’d—she’d torn him apart. Literally. With his blood on her hands, she ran. She was still running.

  Her arms tightened around Rafael’s waist. Not for comfort but because she was afraid she would work herself up into such a tizzy, she’d fall off the chopper and kill herself or worse be torn to shreds by those black beasts surrounding her.

  She wasn’t prepared for what Rafael did. He dropped his left hand to her tightly gripped ones over his waist and covered them. His big, fingerless leather-gloved hand squeezed hers reassuringly. When he didn’t remove his hand but kept it protectively clasped around hers, she felt herself relax. When he began to absently stroke her skin, she stiffened. So did he. Abruptly, Rafael released her hands and returned his to the handle grip.

  His action and her reaction distressed her. What was happening between them? There was a pull toward Rafe she could not shake. At times, she didn’t want to. In another place and in another time, social outcast though she was, if she were brave enough, she might have the courage to pursue him until he belonged to her.

  A primal possessiveness took hold of her. It dug deep into her fiber. She wanted him, she realized, physically as well as emotionally. Did it make her insane, weak, and just plain brain dead that, despite the fact that he would not lift a finger to save her life, she still wanted him?