and frustration. Debating on whether to follow, he inhaled her scent. Emily’s unique fragrance was as clear as if he’d marked her himself. Didn’t she realize he could track her through a forest filled with skunks and still find her? He resisted the instinct to give chase.
Instead, he roped in all his control and turned back toward his cabin. He needed energy, fast, from raw meat. The stab wound had nicked his heart, and even though it had healed, he felt drained.
Raphael suspected the deeper, more devastating emotional wound to his heart would take much longer to heal.
How could this happen? How could the one female he was to mate with, his other half, who contained the missing half of his magick, be the cursed one he had to kill? The rising sexual awareness of her and the desire riding him did not lessen. It made sense now, but he was helpless to control his body’s reaction around her.
Until he made Emily his in the flesh, his sexual need of her would grow stronger, making him nearly animalistic in his drive to mate and claim. He hadn’t wanted a mate. Always on the move, the race’s death dealer whom most feared, he kept to himself but for family. Raphael had few friends, and knew a mate couldn’t fit into his lifestyle.
He always suspected his would be a challenging mating at best if he ever found his draircara. He would have to soothe her fears and have a leisurely courtship to show her his gentler side. But this mating surpassed his darkest thoughts.
Anger rose up at her pack’s deception. Had they been truthful, he could have avoided this. Raphael returned to his cabin, fished through the refrigerator and drew out two steaks. He ate the raw meat standing up, feeling the energy revive him. Through the lacy curtains at the window, he could see the edge of the deep forest where Emily hid.
He finished eating, dropped the bones on a plate, wiped his mouth and reached out with his mind.
Emily, where are you? Come to me. Stop running away.
Silence. His jaw tightened. She needed time, both to process what had happened and what she had done. His read was that she was a gentle soul, who loathed and feared her gift to kill. Stabbing him in the heart had emotionally taxed her, along with the knowledge that he was her draicaron.
He would give her the necessary space she needed for now. In the meantime, Raphael tossed the bones into the garbage with a grim look.
He had a much bigger bone to pick over with the pack’s top dog.
Urien was friendly, invited him to join them for breakfast. When Raphael declined and confronted him about Emily, the leader stood his ground. “If I told you Emily was young and strong, not a weak elder, you would not have agreed to this sacrifice. And we could not bring ourselves to do it, but it must be done.”
Raphael locked his hard gaze to the other male’s. They sat in the expansive living room of the pack’s house. In his traditional clothing of the Old Ones, a dun-colored vest of broadcloth, trousers to match and a forest-green, long-sleeved shirt, the Burke pack Alpha looked as if he’d traveled backward in time. Raphael had chosen the seat opposite him, facing the door. Never with his back to newcomers. Always on guard.
Now he wished he had been more careful before accepting this assignment. He did not tell Urien about Emily being his dracaira. Every male protective instinct inside him warned against it. Information would be exchanged only if Raphael thought it had a chance of saving Emily.
“It’s not a sacrifice, but an execution. How do I know all you’re telling me about Emily is the truth?” Raphael’s mouth thinned as he glared at the other male.
“There are two gravestones in our cemetery that prove my words. What do you wish, Kallan? To see her actually dispatch another life?”
Beneath the bristling tension and aggressive words threaded an emotion Raphael could not identify. He sensed the male hid something. There was something else more ominous about Urien, but he couldn’t place it. Raphael reached out with all his Draicon senses, inhaled the older male’s scent.
He detected nothing but a slightly sweet fragrance. His gaze whipped over to the vases of fresh freesia and lilies on a polished round table.
If Emily was the cursed one, and her touch killed, there would be prophecies detailing her future. He leaned forward, his jaw tensed.
“I need proof, not of what she’s done, but of the ancient words. Let me see the prophecies.”
Urien relaxed and gave Raphael a pitying look. “I cannot. It is forbidden. Our ways are sacred and of the Old Ones, the purebloods. You, as a mixed-blood and a Cajun, are not allowed to see the sacred words. Besides, you could not interpret them, so they would be of little use.”
Hairs bristled on the nape of his neck. Not understand. Always the snobbery, the division so clearly demarking his pack from the purebloods.
Raphael kept his thoughts guarded and offered a slow, calculating smile. “Then I will call my brother, my adopted brother, to my side. Damian is a pureblood Alpha, a descendant of the French Marcel pack. He has the authority to decipher the sacred words.”
Alarm flashed in Urien’s blue gaze, then vanished. Raphael detected the slightest scent of fear. “It would do no good. Helen, my sister, was keeper of the texts, and she hid them well and did not tell us where before Emily killed her.”
How convenient. “Then if the texts are hidden, shouldn’t they be found?”
“They are of the earth and its powers and too frail to be brought into the light this time of year. It is best to wait until winter, when the sun’s light will not pierce them and perhaps fade the words.” Urien gave him another knowing look. “Of course you would not know these things, as you are unfamiliar with the Old Ways.”
He tired of Urien’s games. “I am familiar with the new ways and a technology called artificial lighting. I can unearth them at night and then Damian can read with artificial lighting that will have no effect, since the lighting is not from the earth.” Raphael watched Urien’s face pale. “If your people are reluctant to do it, I will. If I have to dig up holes in every square inch of your property, I will.”
“I am afraid your task is fruitless. Helen was a pureblood Draicon, and her powers from the earth itself. She would have cloaked the texts with so many safeguards only the most ancient and knowledgeable of our pack could safely find them.”
Doubt touched the male’s face as he surveyed Raphael. “Our pack, not a mixed-blood pack, that is. Our past Kallans have also been purebloods, elders who had great powers and could accomplish such a feat. I am not certain if your powers are sufficient enough to uncover Helen’s hiding place deep in the earth.”
Urien’s chiding tone grated on Raphael’s last nerve. “I assure you, my powers are more than sufficient.”
“Perhaps if I were to witness a test to be assured of this.”
He was not a circus performer who performed tricks at everyone else’s bidding, but if it erased the doubts in the Alpha male’s mind and helped Emily…
He hated sacrificing his pride but would do so this one time for his draicara’s sake. Swallowing his disquiet, Raphael stood, stretching his big, powerful body to its full height, emphasizing his larger, more muscled physique over Urien’s shorter, almost delicate body. Red wolf. Smaller, agile.
Pureblood,
