Immortal Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

you don’t want…”

      Her voice trailed off as the entire pack, her family, turned their heads. The repulsed looks echoed Bridget’s. Urien pushed back from the table.

      “Get out,” he said tightly. “You are forbidden here.”

      Some tiny bit of stubbornness remained, gluing her feet to the floor. She held her chin high, surveying them with what she hoped was a scornful glance.

      “Fine,” she said with dignity. “I’m not hungry.”

      Gathering the tatters of her shredded pride, Emily left, hoping they couldn’t hear her protesting stomach. She did not run until she was certain the pack could not see her through the farmhouse windows.

      Her footsteps made crunching sounds as she ran along the grand drive leading to her cottage. On the front porch of Raphael’s cottage, the Kallan watched her.

      Emily jerked to a halt, her heart thudding like a war drums. Her nostrils flared, catching his scent. Spices and an earthy, masculine scent flooded her senses.

      She swallowed hard. She didn’t dare trust him. She had trusted her own people to understand, to work with her, and they had turned their backs in her greatest need. But she had been alone for too long to reach out to anyone, even the one who was supposed to save her.

      Emily started to pass, but his deep, commanding voice called out. “Emily, come here.”

      For a moment she hesitated, then she inhaled again, dragging in a lungful of his scent. It beckoned to her like an elixir, made her dizzy with sharp, sudden need.

      Almost against her will, Emily found herself mounting the steps to his cabin. Raphael sat in one of the pine rockers. The chiseled edge of his profile showed in sharp relief.

      She chose to stand by the railing, as far from him as possible without leaving the porch.

      “Why do you keep running away to the woods?”

      Her shoulders lifted in an attempt at insouciance. “I like the forest.”

      “So do I. It holds an aura of mystery, strength and power. Especially these woods.” He cocked his head at her. “One of my favorite poems is about the woods. Robert Frost wrote it.”

      “Robert Frost,” she realized. A Kallan who read poetry like she did?

      “He was like you, in a way. He cherished the earth. You feel more at home in the forest, don’t you?”

      Emily fell silent, not knowing what to say.

      Finally, he looked at her. His expression was blank, but she read steely resolve in his dark gaze. “I know this was a shock to you, as much as it was to me. But from now on, no more running from me.”

      “Who are you to order me?”

      “Your draicaron. Your bonded mate. You can’t run away from that fact, Emily.” He leaned back in the rocker, his boots tipped upward. “I had a talk with your Alpha—”

      “My Alpha.”

      Bitterness tinged her tone. Raphael gave her a thoughtful look and leaned forward, hands on his knees. She found herself staring at his long, powerful limbs encased in the blue jeans. Everything about the Kallan radiated power, control and pure male strength.

      “I told Urien I want proof that the prophecies demand your sacrifice and that I will not go forward with the execution unless I have that proof.”

      She felt her shoulders release the tension she’d been holding. No one since her father had talked to her with this much forwardness and blunt honesty. Raphael did not mince words or make her fate sound glorious. It was an execution, and she was glad he stated it thusly. It softened her a little toward him.

      Just a little.

      Raphael slung an arm over the back of the rocker. “Did your aunt Helen ever mention to you where she hid the sacred texts?”

      Like a deer spotting a predator, Emily froze. Motionless she stood, hoping she had not heard him correctly. How could he have known?

      “Emily.”

      A statement, demanding answers. Emily lifted her gaze to his. “What concern is it of yours?”