Blood Law (38 page)

The
women gasped. Falon continued toward the woman, who now hunched and quaked by
the doorway. “You saw what I did when I saw Rafael fall. I tore those metal
bars apart. I shifted into a powerful wolf, and I ripped Corbet’s throat out.
Do you think Lucien would receive less from me?”

“You
underestimate me, Falon,” Lucien said from behind Lana. Stools and chairs
scraped across the wood floor as they were hastily vacated. Every woman in the
room, save Lana, scrambled behind Falon.

In
Falon’s head, Lucien was formidable. Here in person, he exuded such a lethal
sensuality she could smell the terrified females around her exude come-fuck-me
pheromones. Lucien was the ultimate bad boy. And as with all bad boys, they
were no good for any woman.

Falon’s
temperature rose. Not in lust but in anger. How dare he show his face here?

Lucien
caught Lana’s chin in his hand. As if she were on a cloud, she rose to him, all
flushed and fluttery. He kissed her. Sharp breaths hitched behind Falon. “My
thanks for your confidence, Lana my love. Despite your low opinion of me, you
will be rewarded.” He turned his golden eyes to Falon. “Prepare yourself, corazón;
tonight you will share my bed, and tomorrow?” He smiled menacingly. “Tomorrow
you will die.”

Falon
squarely faced him, focusing every ounce of energy and concentration on him.
“Tonight will be your last on earth if you think I’ll go with you.”

He
smiled that wicked smile of his. “You will come,” he softly said, the double
entendre clear to her.

Falon
thrust her hands at him and watched in fascination and triumph as he went
flying backward across the threshold, landing on the slick wood floor beyond.
She strode toward where he lay stunned and furious. He had the good sense not
to attempt to rise. “As I live and breathe, I will never come to you!” She
thrust her hands at him again, and his body shot farther along the hardwood.
She continued toward him, determined to kick him out of her home.

She
raised her hands again and, just as she was about to give him another shot of
whatever it was she had, he shifted into the big bad black snarling wolf that
nightmares were made of. Falon didn’t give it a second thought—she shifted as
well. The hair along her back stood straight up. Snarling rage tore through
her.

He
snarled and hunched, about to leap. She hunched to meet him in midair. Then an
amazing thing happened. The females behind her shifted, snarling and growling.
They leapt over her, landing solidly between her and Lucien, forming a Lycan
wall around her.

Lucien
snarled and snapped his jaws, frustrated by the females’ audacity to challenge
him. Another deadly but familiar snarl erupted from behind Lucien. Rafael leapt
across the room, slamming into his brother. Black and gold fur blurred as the
wolves fought. Their big bodies rolled into furniture, slammed into walls,
shattered glass and mirrors.

They
were evenly matched.

When
one got the upper hand, the other countered. Falon shifted back into her human
form, quickly dressed, and followed the brothers out into the yard. Blood
slicked the wood floors. Panic ripped through her. They would kill each other!
She ran to the edge of the porch where the wolves viciously tore into each
other. As she had moments ago, Falon focused her energy on them. She raised her
hands and, just as she had done to Lucien, she propelled both of them backward.
They separated at her forceful shove, their bodies tumbling in the dirt.
Instantly, both were on all fours, lunging at each other again.

“Stop!”
Falon shouted. She rushed forward. “Stop!” she screamed. She jumped toward
them, shifting in midair. Sharp fangs sank into her back and her chest. She
howled in pain and then . . . It was over.

Still
in wolf form, Rafael stood stunned and protective over her. The women gathered
around her, as well. Beside them, the men of the pack had arrived, forging a
wall to keep Lucien at bay.

Falon
lay in the dirt, breathing hard. Bleeding hard. She was sure she’d heard a bone
or two snap earlier, but the pain from the bites was bearable, and she would do
it again.

At
least the fighting had stopped.

Not
sure if she would be better off as a wolf or a human, Falon shifted. Rafael
snarled and turned to lunge at Lucien, who stood oddly silent except for his
heavy breathing behind the gauntlet of men. Falon reached out and grabbed
Rafael’s leg, “Rafa, I’m okay. Let him go. Please.”

Rafael
snarled but turned his attention to her. He licked her face and the two deep
fang marks that punctured her skin just above her right breast. He snarled as
he licked. She understood.

Go,
Lucien, go before more Lycans die.

But
he was already gone.

The
women carefully gathered her up and gently carried her to her and Rafael’s
room. They tried to minister to her, but Rafael growled them out of the room.
When the door closed behind them, a hot wave of emotion rushed Falon. Yes, she
was glad Rafael was alive, and glad she was no worse for the wear, but what
touched her more than all of that combined was how the females of the pack had
come together to protect her, when she should have been the one to protect
them! She knew they were terrified of Lucien, yet each one had risked her own
life to protect Falon’s.

Rafael
nudged her back onto the bed. She was naked and bleeding. He licked her chest,
his tongue warm and soothing, and in time the pain lessened and the wound
healed. But she was still bleeding. She rolled over onto her belly, exposing
her back and the bites there.

Rafael
snarled and whined, then snarled again. He was furious. Furious because of the
wounds, yes, but more furious with himself. When she’d jumped between the
brothers, she’d been bitten by both of them. Rafael just realized that.

“It’s
okay, my love,” she soothed, stroking his neck. “You didn’t know.”

As he
had before, he licked her wounds, ever so gentle, ever so loving. Ever so
sorry.

In
less than an hour, Falon had healed enough to shower, dress, and return
downstairs, this time with Rafael by her side. She was greeted as a hero and
with much fussing over by the women. Even Lana asked if there was anything she
could do for her.

Falon
fought back tears and thanked each female and male. They seemed humbled by her
heartfelt thanks. Her heart swelled with pride as she looked around at the
pack. They had accepted her and would fight for her. She was one of them and
was proud to be their alpha.

She
stood in the middle of the great room that had been a shambles just an hour
before. Now it gleamed with polish and shine. The debris had been removed and,
with some of the furniture gone, it opened the room up nicely.

“That
was some spring clean,” Galiya said as she approached with a tray of food.
“Your breakfast got cold, Falon, but here’s your lunch. Eat all of it. You will
need your strength.”

They
all would.

Pack
leaders arrived as the afternoon sun set. Falon greeted each one of them with
Rafael by her side. There were eight in all, but there were others who would
travel from all corners of the world with their packs for the Blood Moon
rising.

An
hour before dusk, the alphas were situated and the compound ready for the
historic council meeting. Falon knew Lucien would return, arrogant and defiant
and absolute in his belief that he had the right to take her life. Falon
shivered, not afraid of death but of not living with the man she loved.

Rafael
gently took her hand in his jaws and tugged her toward their room. Falon
smiled, knowing what he wanted. She wanted it, too; she had been waiting for
him all day.

RAFAEL
SHIFTED AS they hurried up the stairway. Falon gasped at the vicious gouges in
his back, arms, and chest. The flesh was torn, the wounds raw. “Rafa, you’re
wounded!”

“I’m
fine,” he said pulling her toward the bedroom. He lifted her into his arms and
ran the rest of the way, kicking open the door, then slamming it shut with his
foot. He leapt onto the bed with her in his arms. His lips captured hers,
silencing her protests.

Was
he crazy? He was wounded and bleeding, and he thought they . . .

She
struggled, determined to heal him. He was just as determined to rid her of her
clothes. Impatient, he ripped them from her body. His lips captured hers in a
deep, desperate, never-ending kiss.

“Ahhhh.”
Arching into him, Falon surrendered. His fingers dug into her hair, his long,
hard body pressed hotly against hers. Falon wrapped her arms around his neck,
pressing her body firmly against his, wanting to touch every inch of him, never
wanting to part.

He
tore his lips from hers. Holding her head in his hands, he stared deeply into
her eyes. Emotion clogged her chest. She saw into his soul. She felt his
desperation, his heartache, and even his fear of losing her. “Rafe,” she cried,
“We will be together, I swear it.”

His
face softened. “I love you, Falon. You are the other half of my heart, my soul,
my life.”

She
lifted her lips up to his. “As you are mine,” she whispered.

He
took her then, in a slow, deep slide. She met him, liquefying as emotion
overwhelmed her. They clung to each other, their hips moving in slow, agonizing
rhythm, desperately holding on, prolonging the inevitable, wanting just one
more minute, one more second, one more heartbeat.

One
more breath.

The
kiss that began their union ended only when the final wild rush of sensation
claimed them both. It was a poignant explosion that ebbed right along with
their heartbeats and finally their breaths.

For a
long time, they lay connected, man to woman, alpha to alpha, heart to heart,
soul to soul. Neither wanted to face the gathering below, but they knew they
had no choice. It was who they were, what they chose, how they would live.

Lycan.

“Falon,”
Rafael hoarsely said as he caressed her cheek with his fingertips, “I will
protect you; I swear it.”

She
smiled and kissed his fingertips. “As I will protect you.”

He
smiled, but it tore her up inside to see the moisture gather in his eyes.
“Spoken like a true alpha.”

MOMENTS
LATER, HAND in hand, they descended the stairway into a time and place that
would irrevocably change their lives forever.

The
tension was thick; anxious scents clogged the air. The council was seated in a
semicircle. Each of them was dressed in the traditional white-fringed leather
of the Great Spirit Mother, Singarti. Sharia, Daniel, and Maleek, he knew. The
three others he did not recognize but knew they were from the great white
North. He recognized their authority by the eagle feathers woven into their
gray hair. The one closest to Maleek was an ancient, shrunken man who was
hunched so far over he had to sit back to gaze upon the gathered. The one next
to him was an old medicine woman. He knew this by the beads and fur pouches
filled with herbs that hung from her sealskin belt. The man beside her was
younger, as was Daniel; his long black braid hung down the front of his right
shoulder.

Eight
alphas sat in support of Rafe. Four to each side of the council.

As
Rafael and Falon entered the room, bodies parted, allowing them to pass. Rafael
sniffed the air.

His
anger flared. Lucien.

He
looked across the room to see him standing arrogantly to the side with his own
supporters. Rebel alphas Lucien had lured to the dark side. Where was Talia? He
needed her to support his case. His heart pounded against his chest when he
could not locate her or pick up her familiar scent.

Lucien
would dare defy the council’s demand? How could he have a fair tribunal if she
could not verify the violence of that day and hopefully give them a clue to the
Slayer’s ashes? He tamped down his temper. He refocused on what he had control
of, and that was the truth.

As
they approached the dais the council sat upon, Anton took up his position to
Rafael’s right and Glenna, his mate, took her position on Falon’s left.

“My
thanks to the council for agreeing to this meeting.” Rafael’s deep voice
reverberated across the beams. Sharia, Daniel, and Maleek nodded, but the other
three sat stoically staring at him.

“Do
you agree to abide by the council’s verdict?” the hunched ancient demanded, his
voice clear and deep for one so old.

Rafael
squeezed Falon’s hand. She clutched his. “I do.”

The
old man turned in his chair and sat back to regard Lucien. “Do you agree to
abide by the council’s verdict?”

Lucien
stepped forward, his eyes locked on Falon. Rafael’s beast inside roared
furiously at his brother’s arrogance. “I do,” he clearly said.

“Then
let us proceed.” The ancient sat back and calmly regarded the floor.

Maleek
stood and read from an old leather scroll. “The Blood Law is the ancient law of
the Lycans. The founding Lycan fathers swore to uphold its commandments. They
are never to be challenged, changed, or ignored. The first Blood Law decrees it
high treason, punishable by death, for a Lycan to lie with a Slayer. The second
law decrees, when a Lycan steals, slays, damages, or destroys another Lycan’s
property or person, the victim of such acts has the right to demand an eye for
an eye. If the victim is unable to demand justice due to death, his or her next
of kin has that right.” Maleek lowered the scroll and looked at Rafael. “Rafael
Vulkasin, you slew the chosen one of an alpha. As the Blood Law is written, in
keeping with the code of an eye for an eye, the offended has the right to the
same. Do you dare challenge the Blood Law on this account?”