Blood Law (28 page)

Angor,
she silently called. Help me.

The
great black beast growled behind her. Had he heard her, or was he going to
attack her? Falon turned to plead her case and to beg him for his help. As she
turned, he leapt toward her. She ducked and stumbled backward, preparing to
ward him off. But he jumped over her into the darkness. His pack followed him.

Vicious
snarls reverberated through the trees. Falon changed direction and headed for
what she knew was the main road that led to the compound and down the mountain.
From there she would head toward civilization. And Corbet.

She
ran for what seemed like hours. Each time a car approached or passed, she
ducked back into the woods. The female scent she had picked up earlier
returned. She felt drawn to it. A safe haven. In another place and another
time, she would pursue it. Not tonight. Tonight she would learn her true
identify and with that knowledge fight for the man she loved.

Finally,
she came upon a small encampment. The scents were strong and, again, oddly
familiar. Much like the female Lycan scent shadowing her. Like a wolf rather
than the cat she’d thought of earlier, every sense in her was heightened. Had
the mark of the Lycan brothers given her wolfen power? It didn’t matter. She
was glad for it, felt comfortable with it, and would use it to her advantage.

She
stopped at the forest’s edge then stealthily crept toward the village. She
heard a small whimper. She hunched lower, looking for the source. The hair on
the back of her neck rose when she realized it had come from her. A tightness
in her gut mingled with a longing in her heart. For what? Why here, why now?
She moved in closer. The air swirled with old-world human scents. Distinct and
not of this time. The mood of the people who milled about was sad, forlorn. Despondent.
Her vision honed.

Were
these the Amorak Rafael spoke of? But if she was a Slayer, why this sense of
familiarity? They could not be her kin.

Confusion
washed through her in chaotic waves. The more she discovered, the more
confusing it all became. Could a Lycan pair with a human and produce a hybrid
of sorts? She was all human, albeit one with some wacky shit going on, and Rafe
had said he chose her to carry on his legacy. Was that allowed? Was it possible
she was both Lycan and Slayer?

Impossible,
according to Rafael. She shook off the questions. She had to focus.

The
small houses were in bad need of repair. Several cars that had seen better
decades clogged the narrow dirt road that ran down the center of the place. If
she could just get to one . . .

THE
SUN BEGAN its final descent as Rafael reached the northern tip of his mountain.
He shifted in mid-stride, never faltering. He coughed up the ring he swallowed
each time he shifted, slid it on his hand, and continued to run naked through
the pines. As man and beast, rage filled every cell, every pore. His entire
being.

Betrayed
by his chosen one! With his brother! He snarled and continued to run. How could
she allow Lucien to mark her? Didn’t she know or care about the significance of
her treachery? Even if he could forgive her, the pack never would. What she had
done, fucking his brother while she bore Rafael’s mark, was paramount to
treason.

She
would be ripped apart.

He
threw his head back and howled in pain, frustration, and longing. He loved her!
His chest ached, not from the exertion of his endless running, but in
heartbreak.

He
had defied the Blood Law for her! And in return, she’d allowed Lucien to come
to her, take her, then mark her.

They
must have traded blood for Lucien to so easily come to her while he slept. How
had he not known? Had he been so caught up in his own plans for vengeance he
had overlooked it?

He
stumbled, dropping to one knee. The details didn’t matter. They had united and
in doing so had forged an insurmountable abyss between himself and Falon.

He
pounded the rocky earth with his fists. He welcomed the pain. The ring flared.
From the moment he’d taken it from Salene and put it on his finger, his life
had shattered into a million pieces. He had no control, and just as Sharia had
told him, Falon would be his destruction. His honor and his destiny forsaken
for a traitorous bitch! He grabbed the ring and tried to wrestle it from his
finger. It flared hotter, burning into his flesh. He knew what it wanted: Falon.
If he could not have her, neither would Fenrir. And neither would his brother!

“Never!”
he roared. Birds took flight from the trees, and deer sprang from their hiding
places in the brush, dashing past him to safer ground. He would not, could not
take her back. Even, gods help him, if he wanted to. He had only one option,
and it was something he should have done long ago.

Destroy
Lucien.

With
no leader, pack Mondragon would have no choice but to reunite with pack
Vulkasin, and together they would destroy clan Corbet. What happened after
that, Rafael did not want to think of. Without Falon, his life would be . . .
what? As empty and despondent as it felt now. Would he ever recover? Did he
want to? Anger was so much easier to endure than heartbreak.

He
stood and stared up at the darkening sky. The orange moon rose full. He would
be his most powerful tonight. He would hunt Lucien down and strike a fatal,
final blow. And if Lucien had not avenged the Blood Law, then Rafael would.
Unspeakable pain tore him apart. His jealousy ripped his heart to shreds. He
wanted nothing more to than to snap Falon’s neck. But to do so would kill him.
He knew it. But his pride, how could his damn pride allow her to live when she
had betrayed him so heinously?

Were
it not true, if he had one shred of doubt, he would cling to that. But he saw
the mark and smelled their sex.

Rafe
howled at the moon, then said to the ring, “Fenrir, my will shall be done!”
Then he shifted, swallowed up the flaring ring, and ran as if the hounds of
hell were on his heels back to the compound.

He
smelled the Amorak miles before he reached his home. He also caught other
scents, familiar and unfamiliar. He knew why Taylor was there, but why the
Amorak? They had not come to the compound in years. Had they caught wind of
Falon’s treachery? Would they hold Lucien accountable as well? Would they
demand Rafael hunt her down and slay her? Blood rage clouded his vision. He was
a step ahead of them.

Not
wanting to engage with his pack, Rafe avoided the secured front gates and
instead cleared the high fence that surrounded the compound, then leapt onto
the roof and into the shattered window of his bathroom. Though her scent
lingered, he knew Falon was gone. She had run. He’d watched her and let her go,
even though doing so had been almost as painful as watching Corbet skin his
mother alive.

He
forced the fury and heartache from his soul. He was alpha. There was no room in
his heart for sentimentality. Falon had seen to that. He quickly shifted,
coughed up the damn ring, slipped it on, and took a shower then dressed.

Several
of his pack paced the vestibule to the great room. In his anger, he had run off
at dawn, leaving them without instructions, with no leader in his absence.
Their tension was palpable. They immediately settled when they sensed his
presence, relaxing even more when they physically saw him. They knew something
significant had occurred. They looked expectantly at him, then past him for
their alpha female. Rafe leashed his emotions. “Good evening,” he said,
ignoring their questioning eyes.

“The
Amorak are here. They’re edgy and angry, Rafael. What happened?” Anton asked,
his head down, showing his respect despite his demand.

“I
suppose I’ll have to ask them,” Rafael said, his voice steel, leaving no room
for more questions. “But first, I want to conclude my business with Taylor.
Escort him to my office.” Rafael strode past Anton and said over his shoulder,
“Alone.”

Rafael
paced his office when Anton failed to bring Taylor in quickly enough. He wanted
the human gone. Their business was concluded. He had other much more important
business to attend to.

“Come
in,” Rafael roughly called at the knock on the door. He turned and faced
Taylor. In forty-eight hours, the man had aged a lifetime. Still, his smile and
the tears in his eyes belied the deep stress lines in his face. He rushed to
Rafael, extending his hands. He grabbed Rafe’s hands and vigorously shook them.

“Thank
you, thank you!” his voice cracked, and tears ran down his cheeks.

Rafael
stiffened and extracted his hands. He looked past him to Anton, who stood
quietly at the threshold. “That will be all for now.” His sergeant at arms
retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Rafael moved around to
his desk and sat down, wanting distance between himself and Taylor. He was in
no mood for human touch. His gut roiled when he thought of Falon and the
smoothness of her skin, of her sweet scent. He growled. Of her treachery!

“Mr.
Vulkasin?” Taylor said, a tremor of fear shaking his voice.

Rafael
looked up and forced a smile. “Sit,” he said, nodding toward the empty chair in
front of his desk.

The
man sat and leaned forward. “I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t give a
damn. All I care about is that my daughter is home safe and sound.” He wiped a
tear from his eye. Rafael sneered at the man’s weakness. He would never go
there again. Ever.

“I’m
a man of my word. Name your price, and it’s yours.”

Rafe
sat back, contemplative, in his big leather chair. If Falon were here, she’d
want to know how the girl was. He did, too, but not because he was overly
concerned for her health. He wanted to know what she saw. What she knew.

“I
trust your daughter is no worse for wear?”

Taylor
nodded his head vigorously. “Barely a scratch on her. How she’s going to do
emotionally, only time will tell.”

“Does
she recall anything of her rescue?”

Taylor
furrowed his brows and pursed his lips. “No. None at all. She has no
recollection of the entire ordeal.”

Rafael
nodded. With time, her memories would return. Slowly at first, then in a rush.
He’d blocked his parents’ death for almost a year before he could face it again
in his mind’s eye. Now, there was not an hour that passed when he did not
relive the horror of that day.

Taylor’s
head snapped back. “She was rambling when we drove her home, none of it making
sense, but she did ask about a pretty dark-haired lady who saved the dog. Would
that be your, uh, girlfriend?”

Rafael’s
organs twisted. “No.”

Taylor
nodded in understanding but pressed on. “I’d like to thank her. I owe her as
well. If it hadn’t been for her, my daughter would still be missing and Smythe
would still be in my employ.” Taylor sneered. “He won’t be surfacing anytime
soon.” Their gazes locked in understanding.

“Falon
also will not be surfacing anytime soon.”

Taylor
sat back in surprise. “Did she—”

“She
is gone, Mr. Taylor, that is all you need to know.” Rafael stood. “I’m afraid I
have urgent business of my own to attend to.”

Taylor
stood. “You haven’t named your price, Mr. Vulkasin.”

Rafael
had every intension of being compensated, when the time was right.

“Give
me some time to think about it.”

“Your
call. You have my number.”

“Keep
your phone with you at all times. You never know when I’ll be in touch.”

Taylor
nodded and held out his hand. “I will. And thank you for giving me back my
daughter.”

Rafael
clasped the man’s hand, glad for the first time that he had allowed Falon to
interfere. At least one man would sleep easy tonight.

Rafael
stood for a long moment after the door closed. Emotions chipped away at his
tightly held defenses. He pushed them back, hardening his resolve, refusing to
allow his emotions to play any further role in his future. The chaos in his
heart and soul began to subside as his brain wrestled the last stronghold of
his heart. No anger, no heartache, no regrets, no vengeance. Just steely
resolution.

He
was alpha and, as alpha, his sole reason for being was to protect, provide, and
procreate for the greater good of his pack. He had failed them once out of fear
and nearly destroyed them because of love. He would see the Blood Law avenged,
then choose another mate and wildly procreate. He needed to do what he should
have done all along—sacrifice Falon and then move on.

The
scent of the Amorak intensified. Slowly, the door opened. Through the
threshold, Sharia wobbled on her old, unsteady legs, accompanied by Talia’s
adopted brother, Daniel. The man glared at him.

Talia.

Lucien’s
captive. Her loss had been devastating to the pack in many ways. Not only was
she their healer, their calm voice in the storms of chaos, she was their direct
link to the Spirit Mother. She was also Rafe’s spirit guide. Mostly, she was
his friend. He missed her.

When
he demanded the council step in and force Lucien to return her, they once again
refused him. He took matters into his own hands then but failed to free her.