Blood Law (15 page)

Falon
mentally snorted. Like that was such an impossibility. Lord, the man was
arrogant. “It’s a knife wound.” She moved closer for a better look. Rafael
flinched when she touched it. “If it wasn’t your brother, who did this?”

“Several
someones who won’t be able to talk about it.”

Falon’s
jaw dropped. “You killed them?”

Rafe
reached past her and grabbed a dry towel and blotted his chest. “What was I
supposed to do, ask for a Band-Aid?”

Falon
took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. She was very aware she
wore only his T-shirt and a cast. She’d thought about snagging a pair of his
underwear, too, but had decided that was going a bit far. The ribbed tee was
bad enough. “Why is your brother going to kill me, and why are you going to
allow it? And what the hell is the Blood Law?”

Rafael
tossed the towel aside and moved past her. Falon grabbed his arm and yanked him
back with surprising strength. Her eyes widened simultaneously with Rafael’s.
“Tell me.”

He
glowered down at her. “Does it matter?”

She
released his arm and pressed her hand to his chest. Looking up at him, she saw
the anger and the despair in his eyes. Despite her own anger, something inside
of her shifted.

He
didn’t want her to die, but he would not save her either. “Of course it does.
It’s my life.”

“What
will be, will be. I cannot change it even if I wanted to.” He tried to move
past her again, but she would not allow him. She pressed her other hand against
his chest. He was warm, and she could feel the harsh throb of his heart beneath
her fingertips.

He
must care on some level if he was reluctant to see her dead. If she could just
pull him a little more into her camp, then maybe she had a chance.

“Rafael,”
she softly said. “We’re connected somehow. Don’t you feel it?”

Yeah,
he felt. But he couldn’t embrace it. Rafael didn’t want to, but he forced
himself to look down into her deep lake-colored eyes. He owed her that: to look
her in the eye when he told her that not only was she going to die, but he was
going to make sure of it.

He swallowed
hard as the rage began to build again. If he took Sharia at her word and
listened to his heart, he would wrap this brave woman he barely knew in his
arms and hold her tightly, protectively, then refuse his brother the right to
her death. Instead, he let out a long breath, and as he did, it suddenly
occurred to him that he had only minutes before his shift. He looked past her
to the window. Pink fingers of the new day infiltrated the thick copse of trees
east of the wall.

Where
was Lucien?

Rafael
lifted his nose and sniffed. Ah . . . there. Lucien was close. So why didn’t he
show himself? This was the time when they were both human. One hour at dawn and
another at dusk. What was he waiting for? He would not dare destroy the girl
while Rafael was in wolf form. It was not their way.

“I
don’t want to die, Rafael,” she whispered.

Looking
down at her, his gut twisted painfully. In that moment, he envisioned the final
glance that had passed between his mother and father before she’d died. They’d
been mates in the best way possible. Heart, body, and soul. And now, in spirit.

He
set his jaw. Smiling sadly, he reached out to touch Falon’s cheek. The words
were on the tip of his tongue—how sorry he was to have dragged her into the
mess that was his life. But his moment of weakness was over as soon as it
began.

He
was alpha. Alphas did not hesitate.

He
jerked away from her, strode angrily towad the door, and yanked it open. “Don’t
leave this room,” he growled. Then slammed it behind him. Rafe shifted and went
on the hunt for his brother.

ANGER,
FEAR, FRUSTRATION, and, damn it, longing swirled with the force of a
category-five tornado in Falon’s heart. Rafael Vulkasin was a stubborn, blind
man! There was a reason she was here. A reason he had chosen her, marked her,
and resisted his brother’s right to destroy her. He had saved her life twice,
maybe three times. She meant something to him, damn it. Maybe not enough to
defy his law, but enough for him to hesitate.

And
what did he mean to her? In the time she had been aware of Rafael, she’d
witnessed him kill a man who was hell-bent on kidnapping her. Had been as
intimate with him as a man and woman could be. Had been thrust in the middle of
a crazy primitive blood feud. Her belly roiled nervously. If she were honest with
herself, she could admit he meant something. There was more than just their
physical reaction to each other. As strong as that was, Falon knew Rafael held
answers to who she was. She was as certain of it as she was the sun would rise
each morning. In Rafael’s presence, her powers came alive. New powers emerged,
powers she had not known she possessed. With him she wasn’t afraid of them.
Inexplicably, with him she felt part of a whole, like she had some purpose.
Why, what, or how, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. It just was. She didn’t
contemplate the details. She was going with her instinct. Too many times she
had ignored it and gotten into trouble. It was time to trust herself. But
first, if she didn’t eat, she’d be easy pickings for Lucien.

She
strode to the door and yanked on the knob, expecting it to be locked. It opened
easily. Food scents hit her broadside. Falon’s mouth watered. She could not
remember the last time she had eaten.

She
could not go downstairs dressed like she was, though. Quickly she ransacked
Rafael’s dresser and closet. She pulled on a pair of black flannel pajama pants
that fit over her cast, and a blue fitted button-up shirt. She slipped out of
the room, ever alert for that big gold wolf and Lucien.

A
myriad of scents infiltrated her nose. Rafael’s familiar one, and Lucien’s dark
angry one, mixed with the food scents and other people scents from below.
Hunger drove her down the long stairway and into the great room. About half a
dozen people milled about; some she recognized from her encounter with Lucien
last night. All conversation stopped. She stood unsure of what, if anything, to
say to them. They met her stare evenly, then turned away. Fine, she wasn’t
looking for friends either. She was hungry, and once she ate her fill, she’d
disappear. Her nostrils twitched, and she followed the food scent.

Just
off the great room she entered a large, warm, natural stone kitchen with
state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. She didn’t stop to admire all of
the amenities; she went for the stove where a large pot simmered. She glanced
around. Not a soul stirred. Hunger drove her forward. She lifted the lid of the
pot and sniffed. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly.

Falon
rustled through the carved oak cupboards for a bowl and the drawers for a
spoon. With each in hand, she dipped the bowl into the brew and was about to
take a spoonful when she sensed a presence.

Guiltily
she turned around to find two women staring at her. “I was hungry.”

“That
soup is for the elders,” a small pretty brunette with brown eyes said.

Falon’s
belly rumbled, demanding sustenance. She poured the soup back into the pot.
“Sorry.” She looked longingly at the pot. “I haven’t eaten in days.”

The
brunette stepped past Falon. She pulled out a large bowl from the cupboard and
ladled out enough soup to feed three people. She set it on the counter next to
Falon and motioned to the other woman, a petite redhead, to come help her.
Together they lifted the heavy pot from the stove and walked past her and out
of the kitchen.

Falon
grabbed the bowl, and just as she scooped up a mouthful, she heard screams,
then a thud, then cries. She set her bowl down and ran toward the commotion.
The two women stood frantically swiping the hot liquid from their arms and
chest. Falon hurried to the brunette, who was covered in the scalding liquid.
With no reservation, she ripped the woman’s steaming shirt from her, then her
pants. The other woman, who was not nearly as afflicted as her friend, ran past
Falon and returned with damp towels. Together they set the brunette down on the
floor and cleaned the steaming liquid from her lobster red skin. Falon
swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. The burn areas were already
blistering.

“You
need to get into a tub of cold water,” Falon said. “To cool your skin, then get
to a hospital. These burns will get infected.” She pulled her shirt off and
gently wrapped it around the naked woman, who mutely nodded.

Several
people hurried to the scene. Incriminating eyes zeroed in on her. A large blond
man took the woman into his arms and strode away with her. Falon looked at the
redhead. “Is he taking her to the hospital?”

She
only shrugged then proceeded to clean the mess up. Falon wandered back to the
kitchen and spied her bowl of soup on the counter. She picked it up and walked
back to the redhead. “Take this to the elders.”

The
woman stood and wiped her hands on her damp jeans. Slowly she took the bowl
from Falon. “Thank you.”

The
acids in Falon’s belly burned, and she suddenly felt weak. She needed to eat.
Surely there was more food in the kitchen. She looked down at her ribbed
T-shirt and groaned. Her nipples were clearly outlined beneath the sheer
fabric. The flannel pants were soaked. She needed to change. Her stomach would
have to wait.

She
closed the bedroom door behind her and kicked off the damp pants, then went
into the bathroom. She washed her face and arms and found an unopened
toothbrush and brushed her teeth. She shrugged and used Rafael’s brush to brush
the tangles out of her long hair. Wearing only the ribbed tee, she walked back
into the bedroom and stopped dead in her tracks.

Looking
like the wolf that had just devoured Bambi, Lucien stood casually against the
tall bedpost.

“Leave
this room,” Falon commanded the unwelcome intruder. She tried to keep her voice
strong. Although she was afraid of Rafael in a dark, primal way, Lucien
terrified her. Her fear spiked when Lucien unraveled his long, muscular limbs,
like a cobra uncoiling to strike its prey.

Her.

His
smile deepened. Falon’s heart pounded like a sledgehammer in her chest.

“I
used to live here, you know.” He said it casually, glancing around the room.
She couldn’t miss the regret in his voice.

“It’s
a . . . nice room,” she conceded, “but you don’t live here now. Rafael does.”

Falon
backed up as Lucien slowly stalked her. She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll zap you
again,” she threatened.

Lucien
froze, then threw his head back and laughed. “Be my guest. I recovered
immediately. You, however, did not. And Lord only knows what I could do to that
body of yours while you lay unconscious in my arms.”

Falon
gasped at his audacity. “You would not dare!”

“Try
me.” He cornered her. His heat was palpable, his scent wild and of the loamy
earth and pine. Her nostrils twitched, not finding the scent unpleasant. “You
wear my brother’s clothes well.”

He
raised his hand to her cheek, and in the process brushed his knuckles across
her nipple. Falon gasped, and Lucien just pressed closer.

“Do
you have feelings for Rafael?”

She
took a swift breath. “That is none of your business!”

“Does
he have feelings for you?”

“I’m
not a mind reader.” Did he? He’d seemed to, when he’d stood at the sink,
staring at her. The way his touch lingered . . .

Lucien
shook his head, but his lips quirked. “So brave. So hostile. Don’t you know
your death is mine to command at any time?”

“My
life is mine to live, not yours to destroy.”

Lucien
tsk-tsked as he shook his head. “I can”—he snapped his fingers beneath her
nose—“snuff you out in the blink of an eye.”

She
clenched her jaw and put her hands on her hips. “Try it.”

He
cocked his head and stared at her, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. But then
all that heat was banked, almost deliberately. He took a hand from her hip and
brought it to his lips. “How about we make a deal instead, Falon. I spare your
life, for now, and you promise to keep my brother company.”

“Okay.”

He
shook his head. “A little too eager. You’re not even going to pretend to do
what I ask?”

“The
first chance I have to blow this joint, I’m gone.”

He
gave a long, mocking sigh. “That is unfortunate.”

He
clenched his fingers around her hand and pushed her into the corner with his
big body. She struggled against him, but even with her newfound strength, he
was stronger.

Much
stronger.

He
pulled her hand up and turned it over, palm up. He looked into her eyes, and
the black striations in his pulsed. His lust for her swirled in thick, pungent
waves around them. Not just a lust for revenge, but that of a primal animal
rutting.

To
her horror, when he lowered his lips to her palm, her body warmed. Falon closed
her eyes and held her breath, not wanting to be affected on any level by this
man.