not going there to make a fashion statement. Just to honor their request.”
Respect shone on his brothers’ faces. Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Rafe. I certainly couldn’t perform trasna on a female. I hope you find the strength.”
“You’d better hope, Gabe. You have a lot riding on this assignment.” Raphael set down the beer, his look grim as he studied his brother. “Just hope that she is older and ready to die. Because if she isn’t and I have a conflict on hand, remember the code? You’re the one whose life is forfeit. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.”
Gabriel removed a legal-size paper, a knife and a quill from his pocket and set them on the table.
“You don’t have to do this, Gabe.”
“If I don’t, then who will?”
The time-honored tradition bothered him, but he could not break it. Each time his services as Kallan were requested to terminate the life of another Draicon, he signed a binding contract. A male family member was required to sign as well, putting his life on the line as collateral should Raphael back out of the agreement.
The contract ensured Raphael would proceed with the execution or those requesting his services would kill his relative. No Kallan had ever reneged, and over time the document became more a formality than a reality.
Still, Raphael felt queasy over the idea of giving the Burke pack the authority to end Gabe’s life should he fail to dispatch Emily.
A nagging thought chased itself around in his head. He dismissed his worry. Discipline, not emotion, was needed for his upcoming duty. But this particular transition presented other challenges. The last time he’d had a brother sign a blood oath, Etienne had been unmated, and the transition was an elder longing for the peace of the Other Realm.
Never a female.
A very delicate, tough assignment.
Gabriel made perfect sense. Since Etienne had been mated, he was forbidden to sign a blood oath. Alexandre, who had lost his mate and daughter, had expressed a desire to join them and might even hinder the ritual of trasna in his eagerness to do so. Indigo and Damian, both adopted as blood brothers, were not related kin. Besides, Damian was mated now to Jamie and had a pack of his own. Indigo, well…
Purebloods considered Indigo an abomination because he was a Changling—half-vampire, half-Draicon. The Burke pack would ban him from offering his life.
Only Gabe remained.
His brother’s eyes, dark as his own, regarded him evenly. Gabe pointed to the paper. “I read over everything. Shall we?”
So be it. “Take the knife, cut your hand and sign your name in blood.”
Gabe picked up the sharp blade with a wry look. “Did I ever tell you I faint at the sight of blood, especially my own?”
“Faint after signing, monfrere. I might even catch you.”
With a slight wince, Gabe cut his hand and signed his name. Raphael stared at the crimson signature. A small dot of blood, like a tiny teardrop, stained the parchment.
“What’s wrong? My signature not legible?” Gabe joked.
Raphael made no reply, staring sightlessly out the window. The premonition was before him, dark and hovering like gray shadows. Blood staining his brother’s shirt. Gabriel lying still.
Death.
But for whom, he couldn’t say.
Chapter 1
Today the Kallan arrived. The male who would end her life. If she didn’t find a way to stop him.
Emily paced before her cottage. She couldn’t wait and walked silently to the farmhouse.
On the way over, she heard the steady roar of a motorcycle as it crested the quiet hill before the farmhouse. Despite every instinct that urged flight, she advanced toward the sound. She needed to see the one who would end her life. She crept through the yard by using the thick pine trunks of the trees that flanked the drive from the cottage to the farmhouse to shield her.
Her pack had gathered on the gravel drive. With a cough, the big motorcycle’s engine died and the pack drifted toward the male on the bike. Emily gave him a grim smile. Maybe the others went meekly. She’d give him the fight of his life. Her life.
He removed a gleaming black helmet. Shoulder-length dark hair fell about his head, curling at the edges. One lock of hair was pure white at his right temple. Dressed in a black leather jacket, black T-shirt and black leather pants, he looked tall and imposing even while seated.
The rider slid a firm thigh over the saddle and stood. Emily put a hand to her throat, feeling it tighten. He towered over her family. He was breathtaking, with his fine bone structure, high cheeks, full, sensual lips and determined chin. Power radiated from him, and he exuded a sense of authority.
His dress was as different as his height and muscled body. Her people wore the clothing of the Old Ones. Simple wool vests in dark green or blue, broadcloth shirts and trousers for the men. Women were always clad in long dresses, some laced up front with a full skirt and formfitting bodice. Traditional. This Kallan’s leather-clad body made her feel tingly and caused wicked thoughts to race through her mind. What would he look like without the covering?
She hadn’t expected him to look so sexy, so young. The Kallans of old in the Book of Records were ancients. The last Kallan had been a graybeard who wore dignified clothing, like the long emerald robes her Alpha wore at ceremonial celebrations.
Tight leather covered his long legs, molded to his bottom. A hot flush rose to Emily’s cheeks as she stared at the prominent bulge between his legs. The Kallan swaggered with easy grace, gravel crunching beneath his booted feet. Never had she seen such a display of raw masculinity. He sucked up all the open space with his presence. A dangerous Draicon, formidable. Emotionless as well. Had to be, to do what he must.
A small fear shook her. He looked like a fierce hunter who would flush out prey and never stop. Any thoughts that she could outrun him, outwit him, shattered like brittle glass.
Suddenly he looked up from greeting those around him. His attention shot straight to the trees hiding her. He seemed affixed to her position as his eyes narrowed.
Her heart galloped as she stumbled backward. This was not how she would meet him. Not cowering and lurking, but chin up, face forward.
Not yet. She needed to gather the fragments of her tattered courage first. Emily slipped away, her bare feet making no noise on the soft grass.
Later, when dusk fell and shadows cloaked the land, she would march up to the farmhouse and introduce herself. Kallan or not, Raphael would never best her. She would show him.
Instead of the animosity and superior attitude Raphael expected, the Burke pack welcomed him with vigorous handshakes. Immediately he donned the unemotional mask necessary for his duty.
Amid the glad-handing and introductions, Raphael scented her. Emily, the transition.
Wildflowers,
