Blood Law (2 page)

Urgency
pushed Rafael faster. He could only hope his brother had not yet marked her;
had he, there was only one thing that could separate her from Lucien: death.

That
she was merely a weaker species, one unworthy of sharing its blood with the
powerful Lycans and thus weakening the pack as a whole aside, something dark
and terrible grabbed hold of Rafael.

As
resolved as Rafael was to remove the human from the pack, he didn’t want to
kill her to do it. Not only would he lose his own brother in the process, but
there would be the Blood Law to answer to. An eye for an eye.

“Damn
you, Lucien!” Rafael growled. He took off toward the heady scent of sex.

HE
KICKED OPEN his brother’s door and stopped short at the shrill scream of a
woman.

Rafael’s
eyes narrowed in on the sight of his brother vigorously fucking the female from
behind.

For a
moment, her beauty, so spectacular, mesmerized him to stillness.

Thick
auburn hair, deep-set blue eyes, high cheekbones, and lips so succulent he
instantly imagined his dick shoved between them topped her voluptuous curves.
His hands twitched at his sides. Her best asset, however, were her ripe tits.
She slyly watched him watch her then wriggled her ass under his scurrilous
glare, her tits bouncing in response.

Rafael’s
blood quickened as the sudden urge to take her struck him. If it were under any
other circumstances, he’d take a dip in that pond himself. But these weren’t
other circumstances. Intuitively, he knew there was something terribly wrong
here.

Jerking
himself forcibly from the unease that has settled upon him, Rafael shouted,
“Lucien. Stop!”

Unbelievably,
even as the female met his gaze, as if he were in a sexual trance, his brother
paid him no mind—didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Instead, he continued to
pump into the woman, eyes closed, his fingers digging into the flesh of her
hips, his own thrusting with manic power as low groans of pleasure escaped his
throat.

Rafael
stepped deeper into the room for a closer look at the girl’s neck for signs of
his brother’s mark. It was smooth and unblemished. He was not too late.

In
the next instant, his brother brought himself and the girl to a raucous climax
without attempting to mark her. Their heavy pants filled the small space as
their bodies slowed.

Without
breaking her stare, the female brushed damp hair from her brow and licked her
full lips. She smiled deviously and straightened, arching her back and wrapping
her arms around Lucien’s neck so that her breasts thrust tauntingly in Rafael’s
face. Rafael swallowed hard. Her mysterious, musky scent called to him as it
must have to his brother. His gaze dropped to her flat belly, her flared hips,
then lower to the fiery red curls at the juncture of her thighs. They were
tight and glistened with moisture. She spread her thighs wider, giving Rafael
an unfettered view of her pink, swollen lips cradling his brother’s dick. More
of her potent scent released, snaring his rapt attention. He felt her pull,
like sweet-smelling angel vines slowly winding around his chest, intoxicating,
tightening, lethal . . . he resisted. She was all things carnal, and for a
brief span of a second, Rafael understood his brother’s infatuation. Heavy lids
dipped over passion-dark eyes. “Lucien, my love, we have company,” she purred.

Breathing
heavily, Lucien opened languorous eyes and locked gazes with Rafael. Although
his eyes appeared dazed, almost drugged, there was no surprise in their golden
depths. No welcome, no joy, only indifference.

“The
fair-haired son returns,” Lucien slurred. “Come back later. I’m busy.” Lucien
grabbed the woman’s hips and thrust into her again. If Rafael didn’t know
better, he’d swear his brother was on drugs. Something he would never do.

The
woman gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head, each time Lucien impaled her
from behind.

“You’ve
had your fun, Lucien. Release her,” Rafael said softly to his brother. “Now.”

Grasping
her hips tighter to him, Lucien narrowed his eyes, defying Rafael’s command. He
thrust harder into the female—once, twice, three times. The woman’s gasps
turned into high-pitched, “Oh my God!” shrieks.

“You
don’t command me, Brother,” Lucien gritted out between thrusts. “I have ruled
this pack for a year in your absence, and I will continue to rule even if it’s
with you by my side. Now leave us. Find your own mate.”

Quieting
now even as her body shook with the power of Lucien’s penetration, the woman
sneered, “Do as your brother commands, Rafael, before I have you banished from
the pack.”

Lucien
snarled loudly, grabbed a hank of the woman’s hair, and wound it around his
fist and pulled hard, causing her to scream. “Silence, woman!” His eyes
glittered, seeming to clear momentarily from their lust-induced trance. “You
may be my chosen one,” he growled, yanking her hair for effect, “but Rafael is
my brother. He is your alpha just as I am. Do not—”

“This
human,” Rafael snarled, pointing an accusing finger at her, “is not your chosen
one. Such a thing is impossible. She is not our kind!”

Lucien’s
head whipped back, his glare menacing. He growled, showing straight white
teeth. His eyes still on Rafael, Lucien nipped the female’s shoulder. “You’re
wrong, Brother. She is mine. It has been foretold that my mate will be human,
and so now it will be done.” He thrust into her again, and the female cried
out.

Rafael
shook his head, unsettled by the belief in his brother’s eyes. Lucien had
always been impulsive and rash, ruled more by his emotions than by caution. If
it had been up to him—if Rafael hadn’t finally convinced him otherwise—Lucien
would have risked the pack before it had regained its full strength to go after
clan Corbet. Now, this female had made him forget almost everything but the
need to mark her. That alone told Rafael something was wrong.

“Fuck
her all you want, Lucien, but don’t mark her. Not now,” Rafael tried to reason.
“Not with the coming of the Blood Moon.”

“The
rising is over a decade away.”

“She
will corrupt you before then.”

Lucien
didn’t respond, and once more Rafael glanced at the female as a snide smile
tilted her full red lips. Her eyes darkened to onyx and lasered in on Rafael.
The tendons on her neck stood out as she arched into Lucien. Her head held
high, her black eyes unwaveringly locked onto his. Terrible realization
sprouted to life in Rafael’s belly.

She
was not just an outsider to his pack.

She
was the enemy.

She
was Slayer.

And
if Lucien marked her, his seed would bear fruit. It would mean not just the
weakening of their pack; it would mean its utter destruction.

As if
reading his thoughts and mocking them, the female rubbed her slick cunt against
Lucien, making small mewling sounds. Her sinister scent clamped down around
Rafael’s head, tightening around his chest, making it impossible to draw a
breath. His anger flashed red, and the beast within him snarled, clawing for
release.

Striding
toward them, Rafael grasped his brother’s shoulder. “Dark magic oozes from her
scent, Lucien! Can’t you smell it? She is Slayer! Kill her now, or she will be
the death of us all!”

Totally
consumed by her, Lucien shrugged off his touch. Shaking his head, he looked
down at the undulating body connected to his own. Adoration shone in his tawny
eyes. He traced a finger along the curve of her back then looked up at Rafael.
“You are wrong, Brother. Yes, I smell her magic, but it will only strengthen
the pack. Our children will rule for the next millennia!”

Lucien
shoved him, sending Rafael stumbling back against the wall. As Rafael righted
himself, Lucien pumped wildly into the Slayer, sweat slickening his body as
once more he and his consort shuddered through another impending climax. Lucien
threw his head back and snarled, “She is mine!” Teeth bared, he lowered them to
the pulsating jugular of the woman beneath him, to mark her as his life mate,
his chosen one, forever forming a blood bond that could only be broken by
death.

“You
defy the Blood Law!” Rafael shouted, lunging upon them. And for doing so,
Lucien would pay with his life!

Even
if it were not written that no Lycan shall lie with a Slayer, Rafael would
never allow his brother to blend the blood of a Lycan and Slayer. It was sacrilegious
treason.

Just
as his brother’s teeth sank into the tender flesh of the girl, Rafael’s beast
roared furiously and sank his fangs into her chest. She screamed, a
bone-chilling, agonizing sound of misery and furious defeat. Her body contorted
and convulsed; blood spurted from her punctured heart in a high arch across
their faces as her life force dwindled. Her screams turned to low gurgles
before trailing off to silence.

“No!”
Lucien roared, the sound of his voice filled with despair. Frantically he
pressed his fingers into her gaping chest, trying to stem the streaming blood
from her heart. “What have you done?” he demanded, his voice choked in harsh
sobs. Her black eyes glassed over in hardness as her lifeblood ebbed from her
body. “No,” Lucien cried, this time barely audible. He pulled her limp body to
his chest, clutching her tightly as if his strength could restore her life.
Then slowly, hypnotically, he began to rock her, murmuring soft words of
comfort against her cheek.

Rafael
stood firm, resolved, knowing that despite his brother’s terrible pain, he did
what had to be done. He had saved his brother’s life as well as the lives of
his pack.

After
several long minutes, Lucien abruptly stopped. Gently he laid her down on the
bloody sheets. He smoothed her blood-soaked hair from her lifeless eyes then
gently shut her lids. Her blood smeared across his body, slowly his brother
rose on the bed, his eyes glowing red.

“Rafael!”
Lucien raged. “You will pay with your life!”

“I
saved yours, Brother! She was Slayer!”

Lucien
shifted into a huge black wolf, his glossy pelt shining beneath the morning
sunlight.

And
so it had come down to the survival of the fittest.

PAIN
TORE THROUGH Talia’s heart. “Rafael! Lucien!” she screamed, jumping from her
bed. An urgency so strong it nearly toppled her with its power propelled her
from her rooms at the far end of the compound to Lucien’s quarters. As she
rushed into his room, she screamed, slid in a pool of warm blood, and landed
spinning on her knees. The woman Lucien had meant to mark lay dead on his bed,
steam rising from her eviscerated chest.

In
the corner, amid the shambles of splintered furniture and broken glass, lay
Rafael, his tawny fur matted with blood, his turquoise colored eyes glazed as
death took him. Next to him lay the black furry body of Lucien, his golden eyes
dulling as his lifeblood streamed from his chest.

“Noooooo!”
she cried, “Noooooo!” On hands and knees, she scurried across the slippery
hardwood to them. Kneeling between the brothers, Talia pressed a bloody hand to
each of their hearts, stemming the blood flow. “Please,” she whispered to the
gods. “Please, spare them.” The panic that had initially seized her evaporated
as a deafening calmness settled within her. Slowly, reverently, she began to
chant, summoning all of her power and calling upon the Great Spirit Mother,
Singarti, the mother of all healers, the mother of all Talia’s grandmothers, to
preserve the Lycans she’d created three hundred years ago.

Energy
crackled and snapped around her head in a myriad of metallic colors. Wide-eyed,
she stared as they began to form into a vision of a noble woman dressed in
white-fringed leather robes, with eagle feathers woven into her long, flowing
black hair, two great wolves, one black, one golden, lying obediently at her
feet.

Raising
a slender hand, her ocean blue eyes glowing fiercely, Singarti whispered, “As
you ask, so it will be done. The brothers will live, but only as one. Day and
night. Light and dark. Mated and mateless. For all eternity, only one hour
shall separate them. Until the Blood Law is avenged.”

AND
SO THE years passed . . .

Present
day

THE
HARD THRUM of the V-twin vibrated between his thighs, up to his hips, then
along his spine. His corded muscles bunched in tension as he focused on the
dark thread of highway ahead. He was wound tight, every sense on high alert,
ready to uncoil, to strike at the slightest provocation.

The
cool spring air tore through Lucien Mondragon’s long black hair. He didn’t wear
a helmet; he didn’t care about the law. Not man’s law anyway. There was only
one law he respected, and that was the Blood Law of revenge.

Throwing
his head back, Lucien howled at the rising moon. It was dusk, and the Blood
Moon called to him. It was time. The quickening had begun. In three months, the
lunar eclipse would occur, and with it, he would stand as undisputed leader of
the northern packs with more power than any alpha before him. More power than
one leader had a right to posses, but the power he was due. And with it, he
would destroy every living descendant of Peter Corbet, the original wolf
Slayer. But he had another just as important slaying to do first.