Amant?
The voice inside his head startled him. Raphael leaned against a tree, sighed. Erin, the time isn’t right….
Please, Amant. I’m sorry for intruding. I have such great need of you, otherwise I’d never have contacted you. Help me.
The terror in his draicara’s voice alarmed him, along with a horrible suspicion cresting over him. Raphael tried pushing back all the emotions crowding his mind, her panicked fear, his guilt that he could not attend to her needs.
If you can’t come to my side, tell me what I can do. You’re a great warrior, I sense this about you, a wise one who has fought many battles. He will hurt me. Please, just advise…
Who is threatening you? he demanded. Tell me and I will take my dagger and cut his heart out. I will ask my brothers, and they’ll come to your aid.
You cannot stop him. No one can. He is one who is great, powerful. I cannot stop him, stop this. A sob broke out, echoed in his mind like shattering glass.
Hush, all will be well, he whispered, deeply distressed at her sorrow. How could he do this, be the Kallan and be apart from her? Time and again assignments would take him from her side, and his mate would not be his first priority. Yet every instinct inside raged to rush to her side, attend to her needs.
But Emily came first now. He must attend to her before easing Erin’s fears.
For years, he quietly accepted that he’d never find his true mate, the missing half of his soul’s magick. Others fortunate enough to do so experienced joy and fulfillment. Raphael assumed like the other Kallan before him that it was not meant to be. His duties came first, and he found small comfort in that.
Now she’d finally sought him out and he rejoiced inside. But merde—ah, the timing. He needed all his concentration and energy directed toward Emily. His transition came first.
Erin, listen to me. Do you have a weapon nearby? A small sniffle and he could feel her pulling together all her strength. Good, he said silently, proud of her courage.
Yes, a small, sharp knife.
Take it and arm yourself. Don’t fear to use it on this male. Stab him, aim for the left quadrant of his upper chest. It will nick the heart and slow him, no matter how powerful this one is. Will you do this?
I can’t kill!
Hush, he soothed. You must protect yourself. It will incapacitate him. Now, get the knife.
Worry filled him as he waited. After a few minutes, he heard her in his mind. I have it. Are you certain this will work?
Yes. Where are you? Are you in a confined place, a house or building?
Is that dangerous?
Get out. Less chance of being cornered, Raphael told her.
Silence, and then he heard her speak. I’m outside, near some trees. I feel safest here.
Raphael shook his head. Now, do as I say. Find your family, your people, and stay with them. Even if the one threatening you is among them, he will not dare hurt you in their presence.
Oh, Amant, she whispered, and hiccupped through her tears as if she laughed. They’re the ones who summoned him here.
Raphael’s heart dropped to his stomach. The delicious smell of lavender and wildflowers suddenly wafted on the chilling breeze. He moved away from the tree and began walking toward the scent, keeping the line of communication open telepathically as he did so.
Where are you, Erin? he asked. Tell me.
Waiting for her answer, he prowled noiselessly through the brush, entering the forest, stepping carefully as his wolf would, avoiding detection.
I can’t talk. Panic threaded through her tone. Someone’s coming. I think…I think it’s him.
Abandoning stealth, he bolted through the forest, crashing through the undergrowth, his lungs working hard, his heart racing. Now the scent flooded his senses, a ribbon of hot desire pulling him forward in senseless need. He saw her now, backed up against an ancient oak, her body lush and tempting, her eyes wide in her fine-boned face.
Raphael cut off communication from Erin as abruptly as hanging up a phone receiver. He raced forward.
“Emily,” he breathed.
Drawn to the female shrinking back from him, he leapt forward, trapping her against the tree with his body. He must know for certain.
Raphael pulled her to him in a crushing kiss.
Even as her lips opened under the pressure of his, he knew.
Even as his blood sang hotly in his veins and his cock grew to stone at her aroused scent, he knew.
His body screamed no, the cry echoing in his mind. Raphael pulled back in abject shock and horror. No, not her, not this one….
Emily cried out, putting a gloved hand to her lips, blue eyes wide in her delicate face. Blue eyes turning rapidly to deep violet. “No! Oh, goddess, not you, it can’t be….”
His throat closed up. Raphael couldn’t speak, though he screamed inside his head.
Emily, the one he was to execute. No safe, anonymous stranger.
But Erin, his draicara, his mate. It wasn’t possible.
Barely had the thought crossed his mind when an eerie, high-pitched scream, like that of an ancient banshee, tore out of Emily’s throat. Raphael heard the snicking of the knife slashing through the air. Pain exploded in his chest as the blade sank deep.
He fell forward, landing face-first on the damp, welcoming earth.
Chapter 3
Emily had killed him.
The kitchen knife fell from her outstretched fingers. She stared in dawning shock, her heart racing. His kiss hadn’t been a mere fusing of mouths, but a drugging, intoxicating kiss that drew in her very soul. It was fulfillment of all the desperate hopes, dreams and sensual yearnings she’d felt since finding him through their mind link.
He’d kissed her into silence, his own sexual hunger twining with a sorrowful knowing.
Emily brought her hands up to her face.
Blood soaked the chamois gloves.
A scream lodged itself in her throat as her gaze dropped to Raphael lying on the ground. She had killed him, the Kallan, her draicaron.
Her executioner was also her destined mate, the male who was supposed to save her.
Her hands, hands that killed, now shook violently. A cool breeze touched her cheek, soft as a gentle caress. It fluttered the hem of her skirts. Emily dropped to her knees, reaching out to touch Raphael.
She jerked back, her mouth opening and closing. Fisting her hands, she pounded them against her thighs.
“No, no, no,” she croaked in a thin wail.
The pitch rose to a hysterical scream. She threw back her head and released her anguish to the sky. Emily struggled to rein in her emotions. Stretching out her hands, she thought quickly.
She could restore life with her blood.
Barely had the thought occurred when Raphael groaned and stirred. Blood no longer flowered on his shirt from the terrible wound she’d inflicted. Her gaze whipped to him, and she crab-crawled away as he sat up. His dark gaze regarded hers with a touch of wry humor.
“I see you paid attention to my advice. Good.” He touched the crimson stain on his chest.
Relief over his recovery turned into grieved anger. “How can you jest over something like this? How can you do this?”
How can you be the one who is to kill me when you are supposed to be my mate?
Regret