Immortal Wolf

Silence filled the air. Then a strong, sweet voice spoke into the gathering darkness.

“Afraid? You’re the one who should be afraid, Raphael Robichaux.”

Her voice deepened with a slight menace. “Very afraid. Because I carry death with me wherever I go. And my hands, judging from the way they are itching right now, tell me you are next.”

Something tugged at his conscience. Her voice with its slight Southern accent seemed familiar. Emotions crowded him. Most overwhelming was a deep feeling of utter sorrow, as if part of his very soul were to die.

It was his distress at her youth and growing anger at her pack’s deception that marred his perception. Nothing more. Raphael dismissed his inner feelings. Emotions were dangerous and clouded his judgment.

He opened his eyes, staring at the sunlit dappled oaks and maples. “Good. Then come forward. If you wish me harm, then have the courage to show yourself.”

“Why should I? I’ve already seen you,” the reply came, followed by a small sniff.

Delight filled him at her snappy attitude. “Seen a lot of me, have you? Let’s look at each other face-to-face and not through the bathroom window.”

Her gasp made his grin widen.

Movement snapped his attention to the left. Raphael half closed his eyes, waiting.

A figure emerged from the woods. His senses sprang to alert. The approaching female walked with quiet grace. Light from the porch showed hair the color of an angry sunset drawn up tight in a bun like the other Burke females. Damn.

Young. Much younger than his 105 years. Barely a decade past her first change into wolf. Much more disturbing was the wild cascade of emotions tumbling through him. Fascination. Thrill. And a reckless feeling of intense arousal.

As if he wanted to spring forward, take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Strip off her ugly, ankle-length dress, lower her to the green grass and ravish her until they both lay panting and spent with pleasure. With her oval face, wide green eyes fringed with red-gold lashes, pert nose and rosebud mouth, she resembled a fae wandering from the safe haven of a forest. Even the ugly, shapeless dress she wore didn’t disguise the ethereal beauty and delicate features.

Raphael closed his eyes, shutting out his initial reaction. Emotions are dangerous.

He drank her in through his other senses. A small smile touched his mouth. Despite the myriad of feelings pushing at him, he could read her spirit. Defiant and not willing. He faced a big fight.

She would not go gentle into that good night, but kicking and screaming. And part of him relished her anger. After all the times he’d dispatched his own kind, he wanted someone to fight him. Someone to tell him to piss off, instead of beg for death with dull, pain-glazed eyes.

The air around him shifted. A chill dropped over him as if winter breathed hard and fast across his body. Raphael suppressed a shiver. His warm Cajun blood howled at the icy blast.

It emitted from her.

Death lingered in her, but not her own. Her touch killed.

Waiting, he reached out to assess her. She smelled absolutely delicious—strong and very alive. He tasted the cold fury in the chill she threw off. Yet he burned with desire as he sensed her drawing nearer.

Raphael waited, rocked and remained silent.

“You can’t be the Kallan. You’re much too young.”

The accusation made him smile. Opening his eyes, he studied her approach, graceful as a wood nymph. The last rays of sunlight glinted her hair, making it look as brilliant as the setting sun.

“So are you. I was told by your Alpha you’re elderly.” He didn’t hide his anger. Raphael sat straight, his thighs splayed, hands on knees as he regarded her.

“I’m twenty-two.” She hesitated, and her voice seemed sad, oddly familiar. “I feel as if I am an ancient.”

A frown touched his mouth as he scrutinized her appearance. “Have we met?”

She laughed, the sound like gurgling water cascading over stones. “Doubtful. You’d remember me, for I don’t shake hands. Ever.”

Emily held up her hands, displaying thick, ugly mustard-yellow gloves. They were a grim reminder of the lethal threat she carried.

“I could kill you with a single touch,” she said, her dulcet voice contrasting with the ugliness of her words.

“I doubt it. Come, sit beside me. It’s a lovely evening.” He patted the empty rocker next to him.

She narrowed her eyes as if he invited her to sit on a pile of rattlers. “Sit and do what? Talk about the weather?”

“If you wish. I want to get to know you better, Emily Burke.”

Gloved hands went to her rounded hips. Emily stared him down. “I know your purpose. You’re here to execute me. Don’t waste your breath on flowery prose or eloquent speeches about how lovely the Other Realm is, and how I will be at peace or this nonsense about getting to know me better. Let’s get one thing straight, Kallan. You’re my enemy. Period. We’ll never be friends. Period.”

We will be lovers.

His thought materialized out of nowhere. It startled him, and as he studied her, it became very appealing. His body responded to the idea, imagining removing the pins from her hair, releasing it to spill in a cascade down to her waist. Emily naked as he feathered tiny kisses over her pale skin, enjoying her whimpers of excited pleasure as he fastened his mouth over a reddening nipple and then nudged her legs open and settled his hips between them…

Merde! What the hell was wrong with him? She’s your transition, imbecile! He’d been thinking of her as if she were his alone. He had a draicara, Erin, and he was lusting for a female he must dispatch.

Raphael dragged in a deep breath, disturbed at his traitorous thoughts. What sort of Kallan was he? Viciously he wished Emily were a 1,200-year-old male, with warts and bowed legs, eager to end it all. Not this vision of springtime beauty, as ethereal and lovely as a delicate blossom.

“Hello?” The vision waved her gloved hands before him. “You deaf? Did you get my message? I can kill you.”

“You can’t kill me,” he noted calmly, glad to see all emotion fled his voice. “I’m immortal.”

“But you’re not immune to pain. I can make you suffer.”

Probably more than you know. Again the thought flashed before him, filled with heavy sorrow.

Her smile turned nasty. “Have you felt your body weaken and your magick leaking from your body? That’s what I do, Raphael. And that is what I will do to you if you dare to come near me and preach about the afterworld or dying for my people.”

The inflection of her speech told him all he needed to know. She bluffed. Beneath the nasty words and threats was a dark thread of pure fear. Not for herself, but him.

For all living things she might harm.

Raphael smiled gently.

“I don’t know any speeches. I don’t preach. But I do like to eat, and I’m sure at some point you do as well. Will you join me for dinner?”

“As your guest or the main course?”

Raphael threw back his head and laughed, delighted with her spunk. “Depends. Sprinkled with a few Cajun spices, you might do.”

And I know exactly where to sprinkle the spice. His body heated with erotic conjecture, Emily on the table like a feast for his hunger…

He stood, the rocker banging against the wall. “Come, Emily. I hate eating alone.”