poured through him. He would cherish her and be mindful of her innocence at their first joining. The ecstasy he’d deliver would erase any pain of taking her virginity. Raphael licked his lips, envisioning parting her soft thighs with his hands, lowering his mouth to her core and flicking his tongue…
There?! Shock vibrated through her voice. Raphael laughed softly.
There, and many other places. Trust me, you will enjoy it.
I wish I could touch you.
The absolute sorrow in her voice gave him pause. His heart twisted. Soon, he promised.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted two men strutting toward him. Both solid as linebackers. Deep frowns scored their faces. One sported a knife scar across his cheek. Trouble. At the bar, his oldest brother, Etienne, shot him a questioning look. Need help?
Raphael shook his head. Erin, pardon me for a moment, he told his draicara. He stood, stretching out to his full six feet, four inches.
“Gentlemen,” he offered.
“You’re the ugly bastard who screwed around with my woman last month,” Big and Scarred announced.
“Your ex,” he countered.
“We was gonna make up,” Scarred said. Glass shattered as he brought his beer bottle down on the table. He held the jagged edge out.
“I doubt it, judging from the bruises you left.” Raphael narrowed his eyes. “Women should be treated with courtesy and respect. All women. You need manners.” He felt power rising in him, the itch to slam this bastard into place.
“And you’re an ugly mongrel dog,” Scarred’s friend chimed in.
Violent anger rolled through him. He masked it. “Never call me a mongrel,” he said pleasantly.
Raphael coldcocked one with a fist and sent the other toppling to the floor with a bare shove. Beer splashed over the table as bottles toppled downward. His reflexes were so fast they’d had no time to blink.
He sat down again, placing a boot upon Scarred’s unconscious body.
My apologies, Erin. I had to take out the trash. Just a little business that took me away from your delightful company. Where were we?
What business?
Two men who didn’t like the looks of my face. He studied his knuckles. Not even a scratch.
Are you hurt? Sharp worry tinged her voice. Raphael felt unexpected wonderment fill him. No one ever worried about him fighting before. His family assumed that the Kallan could fight all battles. His friends knew he could.
You must be a very strong warrior.
I do what I must. He gave a little shrug, toed at the unconscious form on the floor.
You’re also quite modest. I can feel the humility radiating from you.
Again he laughed in delight. For the very first time, he wished he were not the Kallan and could speed to Erin’s side. His draicara had need of him, but his duties as Kallan came first.
Chere, tomorrow I must leave you. I cannot contact you. I have a duty to perform that requires absolute concentration.
For how long?
An eternity. Three weeks.
It’s all right. I understand. She gave a tiny sigh, sounding suspiciously like a muffled sob. Maybe…I will see you. In some other place. Someday.
Erin. He tried reaching for her, but she’d vanished like mist seeping through the bayou. Raphael sat back, slightly troubled. He didn’t like the sound of her goodbye.
It sounded almost like farewell.
He set aside his concerns. After, he’d find Erin and give her all she needed. For now he must focus on what lay ahead.
His brothers, Etienne and Gabriel, drifted over. They studied the two prone bodies at Raphael’s feet. “Couldn’t you have played outside?” Gabe asked.
“They didn’t want to share my sandbox.” He joined them at another table and signaled the waitress, who slapped a cold longneck on the table. Raphael tilted his head back and drank deeply.
Etienne turned a chair around, straddled it, leaning his long arms on the back. “When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I finish the next one.” He backhanded his mouth.
“What is it this time? Where?”
Raphael drummed his fingers on the table, overcome by a sudden chill. “A female.”
His brother’s mouth turned down. “Bad business. What happened?”
His mind sifted through the details with impartiality. “I’m told Emily is the cursed one, doomed by Aibelle the goddess. She was cursed a year ago by Aibelle with the death touch because of her vanity. All Draicon Emily now touches she kills. The ancient prophecies foretell Emily will bring about the end to our people if she is not sacrificed by midnight of the next full moon. If she isn’t, the curse shifts to the entire pack and beyond.”
Etienne whistled as Gabriel shook his head. “Seems unfair,” Gabe said. “Where is she?”
“They told me she’s ready, elderly and will be glad to cross. She’s in eastern Tennessee.” Raphael didn’t add he was relieved his victim was older. Bad enough she was female. Most he dispatched saw his services as a relief. In his forty years as Kallan, he’d only disposed of five very unwilling prisoners, who had killed innocents and were about to turn Morph.
Gabriel gave him a pensive look. “The Draicon in that area are the Burke pack. You’re not saying they’re…”
At Raphael’s brief nod, both Gabriel and Etienne’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Burke pack. Better mind yourself, Rafe. They’re very traditional and stick strictly to custom,” Etienne warned.
Like I don’t know it. The invitation with its fussy handwriting had arrived on crisp parchment (no e-mail for the Burke clan). The beer in his mouth soured. He swallowed hard.
“No cable for you, t’frere. No Internet, no Wii, nothing modern except the phone, basic utilities and cars. Keeper of the records of Draicon, the Burkes are direct, purebred descendants of our forefathers. Guardians of the Old Ways. Royalty.” Gabriel gave Raphael’s leather jacket a nod. “The last Kallan even dressed in ceremonial robes to please Urien, the Burke alpha. I heard Urien was upset you became Kallan because you’re not—”
“A pureblood like them? Like all the other Kallans before me?” Raphael’s fingers squeezed the beer bottle, cracking it. Foam oozed out of the sides.
Silence draped the air. Etienne exchanged uneasy glances with Gabriel.
Urien can kiss my leather-clad butt. Resentment filled him. The purebreds, always with their traditions, customs and superiority complex. They didn’t want a Kallan who was a renegade, a Cajun and a mongrel in their eyes. Tough. He
