Immortal Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  She did not take them, but stepped back, her stomach knotted. “It’s too late. You ruined them. You weren’t supposed to do it. You’re an outsider who doesn’t know the tradition. I told you not to do it, and now there’s no more left.”

  His expression shifted to a guarded look. “Excuse me for contaminating your damn berries and worrying about you breaking your neck.”

  He strode off, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders rigid as river rock. Emily stooped over and picked up the mistletoe. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

  She ignored it as she clutched the berries and walked back to her cabin. Inside, she tried to make sense of the texts, but her vision was far too blurred. She gave up.

  In less than three weeks, she would die at the hand of her mate.

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  Chapter 6

  D awn broke with the soft chirp of birds outside her window. Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes. Cool air drifting through her open window brushed against her cheeks.

  Winter was fast approaching. The thought was a rough jolt to her sleepy senses. There was another tree with mistletoe on a neighboring, abandoned farm. Perhaps the berries had ripened there. Fresh hope filled her. It would be worth the risk of leaving the pack’s property.

  A familiar, sensual scent filled her nostrils. Emily slipped out of bed, drew on her robe and belted it around her. In the living room by the river rock fireplace, Raphael sat in one of her comfortable chairs. In a long-sleeved blue shirt and faded jeans, he looked alert and watchful.

  Long, dark hair curled down to his shoulders. He said nothing but regarded her with his steady gaze. The tiny gold earring swung from his left ear.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Watching over you. With Morphs invading your territory, I’m not leaving you alone.”

  The thought that he guarded her while she slept warmed her even as it made her uneasy. With him this close, he’d be hard to evade. Emily clutched the folds of her robe to her throat as she studied his impartial expression. “Would you like some coffee?”

  He nodded and she went to the adjoining kitchen. As she measured out the grounds, she felt him behind her. Silent. Even with his large size, he walked with stealth like his wolf.

  She hadn’t shifted in so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be wolf and run with the moon.

  Emily poured the water and switched on the automatic coffeemaker. She turned, nearly colliding with him. Raphael was inspecting her kitchen.

  “Got anything for breakfast?”

  “I’m fresh out of game, so you have a choice of fresh fruit or fresh fruit.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter and sarcastic. Raphael cocked his head. “You have fresh fruit? And you haven’t been off the property in how long?”

  “I grow my own.”

  His chiseled jaw dropped. “In autumn?” Raphael paced to the living room and opened the screen door. Emily felt a dim amusement.

  “The garden is hidden behind a rock wall, to keep out the animals,” she called out.

  When he returned, he gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Melons, vegetables, pears, peaches, even lemons, and this climate isn’t suited for growing citrus. How, Emily?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always had an affinity for growing things. It’s natural for me.”

  “But not for most Draicon.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. Muscles in his biceps bulged. Emily swallowed hard, remembering the feel of his powerful body atop hers, the tensile strength in him, the odd friction caused by the bulge at his crotch. The odd throbbing began again between her legs. She turned her back on him, hunted through a cabinet.

  “I also have toaster pastries.”

  “What kind?”

  Emily opened a cabinet door and fished out a box. Raphael read the label, quirking a dark brow. “Brown sugar. You have a sweet tooth.”

  He pulled two pastries from the foil wrapping and placed them into the toaster. While he waited, he rummaged through her refrigerator. Emily leaned against the wall, watching in bemusement.

  “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  He closed the door. “No fresh meat, no frozen, either. What the hell have you been surviving on these past few months? Certainly not melons and toaster pastries.”

  “I get along fine,” she shot back. “Is it your job to criticize my choice of cuisine? What are you, a wolf epicure?”

  “It’s my job to ensure you’re eating right.”

  “So I’ll be nice and healthy when you execute me?”

  The toaster popped up the pastries. Raphael took them and hunted through her cabinet. He removed two china plates and placed a pastry on each one. She fetched two coffee cups and filled them from the coffeemaker.

  He carried the plates to the table and put one before each seat. He pulled out a chair for her, waiting for her to sit as she set down the mugs.

  Emily sat, staring at the pastry. She disliked these, which was one reason why they still sat in her cabinet. But she broke off a piece and forced herself to slowly chew.

  For such a large male, he ate slowly in small bites. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and sipped his coffee.

  “What do you eat, Em?”

  She liked the informal nickname. “Whatever I can. Once a week, Urien sends someone to put frozen meat into the storehouse big freezer. It’s in the shed across the drive, where they store winter equipment. I suppose Urien still feels the need to provide for me, but he doesn’t want to risk coming into direct contact and being contaminated. I checked a couple of days ago, but he forgot to stock the freezer.”

  “So you’ve subsisted on whatever you had. He’s neglecting his duty to you. He should be caring for you, as a leader cares for all in his pack.” Disapproval rang in his deep voice.

  No one had cared for her, not in months. She had functioned fine on her own. Better than to suffer the disdain and averted gazes of what once was her family.

  A lump clogged her throat. She swallowed a small sip of coffee past it, keeping her thoughts guarded. “Do you come from a large family?”

  “Very large. We all take care of each other and have from the time we were jeune, young.” Raphael studied his empty plate. “I was brought up in a large house in the bayou, with four brothers. I was the youngest, until we adopted Damian. He’s only eighty, twenty-five years younger than me.”

  “Adopted? You took in a Draicon not of your own blood?”

  His gaze was even. “When he was barely changed, his family was killed in a Morph attack, and we found him hiding in the woods. Damian is a pureblood, of French descent.”

  “But you’re mixed blood. Did he have trouble adjusting?”

  Raphael regarded her with his intense dark eyes. “No, he was quite happy to lower his standards and live among the lower class of Draicon.”

  Emily sensed she’d insulted him. She tilted her head at him and softened her gaze. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve never met anyone like you. What is your family like?”

  “My people have an honored, proud lineage. We’re survivors who have fought off all Morph attacks and lost none of our pack to the dark side.”

  Curiosity stole over her. Her pack embraced things of the earth and shunned many things that stole away their attention from it. They used electricity and other utilities grudgingly, and Urien had a telephone installed after her father had brought her home as a baby. They clung to traditions many Draicon ignored.

  And they had never been attacked by Morphs, not in years. Maybe we haven’t been truly tested, she thought in a flash of insight.

  “What about your other brothers? Are they like you, warriors? Do you like the same things?”

  A reluctant smile touched his mouth. “Damian’s closest to me, but he’s seldom around. Gabe and I like playing electronic games. I usually beat him.”

  At her tiny frown, he explained. Emi
ly shook her head. “Games where you play warriors on a computer? I saw a computer when my father took me to the library. Father told me that I should know everything of the human world as well as of the Draicon, so I would better appreciate the gifts I’d been given.” She stretched out her hands and felt the familiar stab of sorrow. “Except I don’t call this a gift.”

  “Maybe there is a purpose for it,” he suggested.

  “Just as there is a purpose in you being our Kallan, being sent to execute Draicon who deserve such punishment?” she challenged. “What if you decided to go against your duty?”

  Stone-cold eyes met hers. “Then my brother Gabriel would die instead. The contract I signed with Urien stipulates it.”

  He pushed back his chair, standing to his full height over six feet. He seemed to suck up all the space in her tiny kitchen. “If you’re finished eating, I suggest we proceed with your trasna lessons.”

  Panic welled up inside her. “I have to shower and get dressed.”

  “Meet me outside on the path when you’re done.”

  “I don’t want, or need, any lessons.”

  He sighed. “Emily, I will discharge my duty to you. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up hope that your life will be spared.”

  “Then don’t waste my time with lessons about dying when I need to find a way to prevent my death.”

  He made a low sound in his throat. “Then let me help you.”

  “You can’t help me. Look what happened last night. That was the last sprig of mistletoe.”

  Raphael looked away, his jaw tensing. “We’ll find another way. But first, lessons, and tomorrow, I’ll take you to town to a nice restaurant. I can sense the hunger in you.”

  This Draicon mate of hers perplexed her and surprised her. She remembered the last time she’d gone into town. Some women, young and pretty, had pointed at her and snickered. Emily hated it. She stared down at her lap and the shapeless dress.

  For once she wished she looked pretty.

  “I don’t like going into town.”

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “You will with me. You’ll have fun.”

  “But won’t people stare at us?”

  His jaw went taut. “I never cared much for the opinions of others. Let them stare. We need to start on your lessons, and most find it difficult to concentrate when hungry. You’re starved.”

  But not so much for food, she thought sadly as he turned and left the room. The back door slammed behind him.

  The sounds of the shower made Raphael clench his jaw as he stocked Emily’s refrigerator with the meat from his own. He closed the door, imagining her beneath the spray, her luminous face upturned to the water. Droplets glistening on her naked, lush body, beading on taut nipples, cascading with a river of soap bubbles down to her navel. Desire clenched him in an iron fist.

  Instinct screamed for him to strip, enter the bathroom and step into the shower with her. Draw his arms around her waist and pull her soft body against his hardness. Palm her breasts and rub his thumbs gently over the hardening nipples, then slide the soap down her midsection, down to the fiery thatch of curls, cleansing her, arousing and preparing her for his entry.

  Instead, he headed for her porch, sitting on her porch rocker as he listened to soothing Cajun tunes on his iPod. Raphael closed his eyes. When he traveled, he always brought his culture with him to avoid homesickness. The music kept him close to his roots, no matter how difficult the assignment.

  This assignment proved the most difficult of all. Why wouldn’t Emily work with him?

  He scented her even before she stepped out onto the porch. “What is that thing?”

  Raphael opened his eyes and saw her pointing at his iPod. “My iPod. It stores and plays music.”

  “In that tiny box?” She sounded incredulous, curiosity flared on her lovely face. “May I?”

  Raphael slipped the wireless headphones over her head. The brief contact was sizzling and heat flared between them. He watched, transfixed by the charming smile stealing over her face.

  “It’s so different,” she marveled. “Very lively and upbeat. And the language—what is it?”

  “Cajun French.” He leaned against the porch rail, guarding his thoughts, waiting for her to pass judgment. But she seemed absorbed in the music, even tapping her bare left foot a little.

  “It’s your pack’s language. It sounds as musical as the songs.”

  His guard slipped down slightly. “It’s not pure as the French Damian was taught, but it has its own slang and words. Some of the words are a mixture, and some stand on their own.”

  She removed the headphones and put them aside. “Would you teach me? I’d like to learn.”

  Surprised, he considered her. Her rosebud mouth was lush, begging to be kissed. His gaze traveled down the length of the shapeless dress. Raphael envisioned her naked on his bed, pale flesh gleaming, the red curls between her legs moist with arousal. Her slim legs draped about his hips as he plunged into her sweet feminine flesh over and over. “Tu veux aller au coucher avec moi à soir?”

  Her sweet smile heated his blood. “That sounds lovely.”

  Raphael drew in a ragged breath. Yes, he would like her in his bed tonight. But he had to take it slow. “Later. Let’s start with your other lessons.”

  As they sat cross-legged on the soft grass outside her cottage, Emily appeared distracted. Raphael realized the challenge facing him. She hadn’t shifted into a wolf in more than a year. She feared contact with humans. She had lived isolated on the farmhouse, shunned by her pack and surviving on her own for a year.

  How could he teach Emily to prepare for death when he was too interested in teaching her how to live? His own emotions were in turmoil. How could he be emotionless and close to her? The allure of her filled his body with hot longing. He was experiencing all the natural desires a male Draicon felt upon finding his mate.

  Most draicarons didn’t also face killing their mates.

  Setting his hands on his knees, he breathed deep. “Part of your preparation is attuning yourself to the deeper senses and separating yourself from this world.”

  “I don’t want to separate myself from this earth. It’s part of me.”

  “Emily, work with me,” he insisted. “You’re not accomplishing anything this way.”

  Her large green eyes studied him. “You’re the Kallan, yet you are of this world with your machines that play music, and your contemporary ways. How can you teach me about the spiritual plane, the Other Realm, when you know nothing about the earth?”

  He spread out his hands. “My people know equally of the earth and its secrets, only we live in a different environment. I know every inch of my world, my bayou. It’s my life.”

  How could he break through to her? Raphael jammed a hand through his long, dark hair. Sudden insight filled him. He went to the gnarled trunk of a maple tree that had stubbornly refused to turn colors and beckoned to her. As she joined him, he touched the bark.

  “Watch. If I were not in tune with the earth, would I have the power to do this?”

  Her eyes widened as he blew gently on the bark and iridescent sparks traveled up the mighty trunk to the limbs. The green leaves changed to rich crimson. A small gasp fled Emily.

  One leaf gently fluttered to the ground. He picked it up, cradled it in his palm. “The cycle of life in the earth exists for a reason. The tree needs her rest in the winter, to regain the energy in spring and renew herself.”

  Raphael touched the leaf with a single finger, directing a blast of energy at it. It crumbled into dust in his hand. He blew at the dust, sending it scattering into the wind.

  “The decaying leaves feed the earth and provide a rich compost,” he added, watching her face. “It’s necessary to life.”

  “But life is not always boring and predictable. What if one tree resisted change?” She touched the bark. “I hate saying goodbye and was happy to see it remain green and filled with life. I always loved spring.” Her voice dropped. �
��I hate death.”

  His heart turned over at the quiet despair in her voice. “Life is a journey, and death is only part of the journey. As Draicon, we were never meant to remain here, but came here to learn of the earth and its world, Emily.”

  “My journey is ending. I don’t want it to end.” She flung her arms out. “I feel as if I have more to give, more to live for than being a sacrifice for my people. I want to celebrate each moment, not look at it as if I were the tree, resigned to the approaching winter, the darkness and the icy cold.”

  Raphael wanted to seize her gloved hands, pull her to him. He knew he must tread cautiously this first time she was so open. “We both can find a way, Em. I’m on your side. I am your draicaron.” He went to her, drawn by her delicate beauty, the rose-gold of her hair and the translucence of her fine skin.

  “I want to help you, but you must stop running from me. Work with me. Trust me,” he said softly. “I want to help you find the spring again, and stay there.”

  “Even if you are the Kallan? The dark winter?” Her voice was sad.

  “Not always. Let me be your spring.”

  Her breathing deepened as she touched her hair. “What about summer? With all its heat, the burning sun bringing life to the earth, making it grow and flourish. The hot, hot summer. Is there heat inside you enough to chase away the dark winter and warm me?”

  His breath caught at the husky teasing in her melodious voice.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I can warm you. Enough to chase away all the coldness and keep you warm in my arms. Come here, and let me show you.”

  The deep command in his voice compelled her to turn. Emily started toward him in a sultry walk she’d never before displayed. The walk of a female enticing her mate.

  Raphael eyed her with hunger, thinking about lying with her as his body demanded. Pinning her down with his weight, making her feel the same passion he did and coaxing a sigh of surrender from her lovely throat. He felt his blood heat as his gaze caressed the slender column of her throat. He would nuzzle her with tiny kisses, and then nip her, marking her as his own so no other male Draicon would dare draw near her and would know she was his.