killed him.
The kitchen knife fell from her outstretched fingers. She stared in dawning shock, her heart racing. His kiss hadn’t been a mere fusing of mouths, but a drugging, intoxicating kiss that drew in her very soul. It was fulfillment of all the desperate hopes, dreams and sensual yearnings she’d felt since finding him through their mind link.
He’d kissed her into silence, his own sexual hunger twining with a sorrowful knowing.
Emily brought her hands up to her face.
Blood soaked the chamois gloves.
A scream lodged itself in her throat as her gaze dropped to Raphael lying on the ground. She had killed him, the Kallan, her draicaron.
Her executioner was also her destined mate, the male who was supposed to save her.
Her hands, hands that killed, now shook violently. A cool breeze touched her cheek, soft as a gentle caress. It fluttered the hem of her skirts. Emily dropped to her knees, reaching out to touch Raphael.
She jerked back, her mouth opening and closing. Fisting her hands, she pounded them against her thighs.
“No, no, no,” she croaked in a thin wail.
The pitch rose to a hysterical scream. She threw back her head and released her anguish to the sky. Emily struggled to rein in her emotions. Stretching out her hands, she thought quickly.
She could restore life with her blood.
Barely had the thought occurred when Raphael groaned and stirred. Blood no longer flowered on his shirt from the terrible wound she’d inflicted. Her gaze whipped to him, and she crab-crawled away as he sat up. His dark gaze regarded hers with a touch of wry humor.
“I see you paid attention to my advice. Good.” He touched the crimson stain on his chest.
Relief over his recovery turned into grieved anger. “How can you jest over something like this? How can you do this?”
How can you be the one who is to kill me when you are supposed to be my mate?
Regret darkened his gaze. “I didn’t want to frighten you any more than you already are.” His mouth twisted. “I wish you’d stop looking at me like that.”
“Like you are the Kallan?” she blurted out. “My mate?”
He stood, as whole and healthy as if being stabbed hadn’t affected him. “Emily,” he said softly. “Why did you tell me your name was Erin?”
“Why did you not tell me your true name?” she shot back.
“I didn’t want my draicara to be afraid of the Kallan. I wanted her, you, to come to know me for who I am.”
“My executioner,” she said brokenly.
His eyes closed as he shoved a hand through his tousled hair, pulling free bits of twig and leaves. “Let’s forget that for a moment. Tell me, Emily, why did you tell me your name was Erin?”
“Because it was my father’s nickname for me, my favorite name. I didn’t want you to know my real name. I was afraid—maybe you heard stories of Emily, the cursed one.” She struggled to her feet, training her gaze on him.
Bitterness mingled in his wry smile. “I see we both had good reason for withholding our real identities from each other.”
“But I should have recognized your voice, your accent.” Emily touched a nearby oak, feeling comfort and strength from connecting to the sturdy, strong tree.
“Perhaps we both were blinded to the truth, until we were forced to confront it together.” Raphael bent over, picked up the bloodied kitchen knife. A frown pierced his forehead.
“Stand back,” he ordered.
Mystified, she watched as he dropped the knife and held out his hands. A streak of white light blazed from his fingertips, heating the metal, turning the blood to white ash.
Raphael retrieved the knife, formally held it out to her, hilt side. “I believe this is yours.”
“Put it on the ground.” When he did, she took it, reluctant to even let their fingers brush. Emily set the knife on a small stump.
“Why did you incinerate your blood?”
His troubled gaze met hers. “I’m an immortal, and my blood contains powerful magick, powerful enough to restore life, or make other beings, evil ones, immortal as well. If I am injured, I must do my best to destroy any droplets. I must not allow anyone to use it for their own purpose.”
His blood as well? Faint hope filled her. “Power,” she breathed. “You can restore life through your blood?”
If he could, their mutual problem was solved. Raphael could execute her and then revive her with his blood. She shared the thought, sending it to him using the unique telepathic connection shared between destined mates.
For a whisper of a minute, their minds connected, merged. She saw deep sorrow in his thoughts, a heartrending grief.
“I am permitted that gift only once. I used it to save my sister-in-law, because I reasoned I would never find my draicara.” Raphael’s jaw tautened. “If I use it again, I will forfeit my own life, and the blood used to restore life will turn to poison in the person’s veins.”
For a moment, he looked away, his arms folding across his powerful chest. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
She knew Raphael was referring to her emotional state, which was rather precarious. His protective nature warmed her until she realized it was all futile. Emily touched the tree again for comfort.
“I’ll be fine.”
“There has to be a reason why this is happening. It makes no sense.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Come back to my cabin. I’ll get changed, make us breakfast and we can discuss it.”
Emily felt her defenses rise. She couldn’t dare trust him, the only Draicon she thought she could trust. The only Draicon who could save her would kill her.
She truly was all alone, and the thought sent her backing away with wariness.
“Find your own breakfast.”
“Emily. Come now, we can’t ignore the truth any longer. Eat with me, and let’s try to find answers together as to why this is happening.”
She could not answer. Emotion clogged her throat. Every cell cried out to take his outstretched hand, trust in his kind expression, go with him.
Self-preservation screamed against it. Emily shook her head.
“My touch kills, Kallan. Have you forgotten?”
She whirled around and darted back into the haven and security of her beloved forest.
No, I haven’t forgotten. I can never forget.
Raphael’s
