Blood Law (22 page)

Now
to complicate matters was Falon. How could he rail against Lucien for his
refusal to unite the packs, if he, Rafael Vulkasin, ignored the laws written in
his ancestors’ blood?

And
so it had come to pass. Pack Vulkasin regularly hunted, reducing the Slayer
population one soul at a time, and never did his pack go to ground without a
kill. The Slayers didn’t make it easy. They trained hard and regularly. They
also had an advantage in battle. While Lycans were stronger, faster, and more
agile, a Slayer could only be destroyed by decapitation, and only by a Lycan
sword, whereas Lycans could be destroyed with a single silver bullet to the
heart. The Slayers had turned cowardly over the years. Taking longdistance
sniper shots or using AKs loaded with silver rounds. Lycans lived on high alert
twenty-four/seven. The faintest scent of a Slayer put them on the offensive,
and instead of being the hunted, they became the hunter. Tonight would be no
different.

“Rafael,”
Falon said, tugging at his shirtsleeve, jarring him back to the present. He
blinked, unable to remember what they were discussing. He looked down into her
pleading eyes, and he remembered. He wanted to sink his fingers into her thick,
silky hair and kiss her, to reassure her he would survive this night and, gods
willing, the rising. But he didn’t, because while he may survive, she most
likely would not. It ate at him. She held value to the Lycan nation, and she
was innocent of his and Lucien’s battles. Why should she pay? Was there no way
to convince the council to spare her life?

Rafael
swiped his hand across his chin. To even challenge the Blood Law was punishable
by death. He had no say. He was bound to uphold it. And so he would. Rafe
looked past Falon to his men, who moved restlessly about.

“Prepare
for battle!”

Moments
later, donned in bulletproof vests with triple-ply trauma plates over their
hearts, they pushed their bikes to within one hundred yards of the warehouse.

“Do
you smell that?” Rafael asked Yuri, his third in command and Anton’s first
cousin.

The
tall blond Vulkasin nodded. “C-4,” Yuri growled.

Rafael
nodded. “And a lot of it.”

Yuri’s
grim expression reflected exactly how Rafe was feeling. But it didn’t matter.
Just like the explosives didn’t matter. They were here to get the girl, and get
the girl they would. But first, they were going to make hash out of every
Slayer in there.

They’d
show Edward and his men as much mercy as they showed Rafe’s mother. Rage
swelled as his beast clawed for release.

Memories
washed over Rafe. Every year, on the anniversary of Rafe’s parents’ deaths,
Balor managed to get his hands on either a Vulkasin or Mondragon. What he did
to them was not fit for hell. Rafael’s rage and hatred festered in his belly
like an abscess. His yearning for vengeance had mushroomed since the last full
moon.

Rafael
fought the urge to throw his head back and howl. That night had been a bloody
but fruitful raid. More than two dozen Slayers, among them Edward’s youngest
son, Robert, had fallen beneath their swords. Rafael had taken great pleasure
in cutting down Edward’s arrogant progeny. Robert had taunted Rafe for years
about how his father held Rafe’s mother down while his uncle skinned her alive.
But what cost the little bastard his life was when during the last raid, Robert
wagged a shammy under Rafe’s nose. His mother’s scent still clung to it. His
mother’s skin, Robert used it to shine his slick hot rod. Right before Edward’s
horrified eyes, Rafe skinned his only son alive. Upon returning to the
compound, Rafe ordered Stanza, the pack tanner, to retool his chopper seat with
the Slayer’s skin. Now Robert’s skin felt his ass each time he mounted his
bike.

An
eye for an eye.

Blood
Law.

A
growl rumbled in Yuri’s throat, almost as if he could read Rafe’s mind.

Rafe
studied his friend. Yuri reminded Rafe of a Viking. Tall, thick, and blond, he
was quiet, respectful, highly intelligent. At his core, however, he was a
bloodthirsty warrior. His need for vengeance against the Slayers was as strong
as Rafael’s and Lucien’s. Yuri’s mother had been mutilated by Balor.

Thinking
of his friend’s grief, Rafe’s rage built. His body tightened. The color of
blood clouded his vision. He clenched his fists, setting his jaw. His bones
began to shift.

No,
damn it! Rafe fought to tamp down the beast within. He didn’t want to shift in
front of Falon. One, because he didn’t want to scare her any more than she was.
Two, he didn’t want to see the contempt in her eyes when he retook his human
form.

It
bothered him that he even cared, but he could not deny he felt protective of her—and
himself.

He
turned back to Yuri. “If it were me inside, waiting for the cavalry to come
busting through the front doors, I’d have rigged the C-4 to blow when the doors
opened. Anyone within thirty yards would catch the blast as they got
bottlenecked trying to come through.”

Yuri
nodded. “Yet we can’t ride through the windows.”

Rafael’s
gaze rose to the high windows and ways to access them. They were only two
stories tall. No problem for his Berserkers. “Send the Berserkers to the rear
of the building. Instruct them to split in half. Between the windows. Tell them
to make entry only after they hear the blasts we’re going to make from the
front and rear entry points,” Rafe ordered.

Yuri’s
eyes widened to huge. “Tell them—? Are you mad? They won’t listen to me!”

Rafael
scoffed. “Angor will take your instruction.” As only Rafael could, he alerted
Angor to follow Yuri’s directions to the letter. “Now go. And, Yuri? Tell them
to make a lot of noise when they come in. I want every Slayer in the building
to shit themselves.”

“Gotcha.”
Yuri bounded away, stealthy as the wolf he was. Quickly Rafe turned his
attention back to the warehouse.

He
called his men to his side as he studied the front of the building. “Both sets
of doors are rigged to blow. The trip will be when they open.” Rafe grinned and
looked at Anton. “And we are going through them. Line your bikes up, stack
column in front of the doors from fifty yards out. When I give the signal, rev
’em big, get that back wheel spinning. Both point riders proceed through the
door alone.”

Anton’s
jaw dropped, but he did not say a word. Nor the men behind him who looked at
each other with concern.

“Not
kamakaze,” he assured them. “Jump off the damn things before impact. But be
exact in your steering. Guide the bike into the center of the door as fast as
it’ll go.”

Relief
flooded their features. Of course they didn’t want to die, not without a fair
fight, at least. Still, Rafael had no doubt each and every one of them would
ride into hell for him. Just like he’d do for them.

“They’re
ready at the windows, Rafe,” Yuri said as he rejoined the group.

Motioning
the rest of the crew around him, Rafe moved fifty yards farther from the
warehouse and quickly laid out his plan. “The warehouse is roughly thirty-five
thousand square. The only thing in it is a shrouded raised platform
approximately thirty by fifteen with ramps on either side. It’s directly in the
middle of the space. I don’t want a fatal funnel at the doors. After impact,
split right and left into the warehouse as you enter. If the man in front of
you goes left, you go right, and so on. Focus on the interior of the building;
that will be where the action is. Yuri, Anton, and I will ride in directly
behind the front column, so your asses had better be out of the way because
we’re not stopping. As we enter through the front, the second column needs to
be in position to hit right after you hear the explosions from the front
column. The Berserkers will be entering through the windows. We’ll have these
pieces of shit in a vise grip. As always, use your firepower to compromise them
so that you can get close enough to take off their heads.”

Pounce
and start tearing off heads. Yes, it was primal, but then so was the
eight-hundred-year war between Slayers and Lycans.

Rafe
looked over at Yuri. “We need to get a lock on the girl immediately after
entry. I don’t exactly know what to expect, but I don’t think she’s going to be
sitting pretty, bags packed and waiting to go.” Turning back to the group, Rafe
asked, “Any questions?” No one called out. He nodded and stepped back. “Then
let’s do it.”

As
they broke, Falon, who had listened but kept her distance, stepped toward him
and stated, “I want to go in with you.” She had come this far. Why could she
not finish it? And she had proven she could hold her own.

The
hair on the back of Rafael’s neck stood on end. He turned to look at her,
feeling as determined as she looked. More so. “It’s too dangerous in there,
Falon. I want you to stay here.” He knew he had been foolish to bring her. But
his desire to have her by his side overrode his caution.

“I
can help! I can hold my own, Rafael. You know it.”

It
was not going to happen. Not under these conditions. He didn’t need her help.
It would be too risky, and for what? Her indulgence? No. He watched her about
to erupt again. He moved into her space in an attempt to make a rational case
on both of their behalves. He pressed his fingers to her lips, shushing her. He
didn’t mean to shake his head; it must have been his brain thinking out loud.
Her dark brows dipped ominously low over her flashing eyes, then she nipped his
fingertip, and to his surprise drew blood. He yanked his hand back in surprise.
What a vicious little—

“I
bite, too, mister, and if you’re not careful”—she swiped at his blood on her
bottom lip—“I’ll eat you up and spit you out.”

She
pushed past, then turned to face him. “You gave your word to Mr. Taylor that
you would return his daughter to him in forty-eight hours or less. She’s in
there terrified. How do you think she’s going to react when you and your boys
come charging in like demon bikers wielding your swords and chopping off heads?
I can go to her, let her know not to run. We’re here to save her, not hurt
her.”

“Do
you think for a minute those bastards in there don’t know we’re out here?
They’ve been waiting all night for us; she’s the bait. If she isn’t dead now,
she will be the minute we enter.”

Falon
raised her nose to the night breeze and sniffed the air. Her eyes widened
before they narrowed and turned on him. “She’s still alive.” She turned then
and strode as quickly as her casted foot would allow toward the warehouse.

Rafael
stood in shocked silence. Had she just caught the girl’s scent in the air? They
were almost a football field away and downwind! He looked at Yuri, who cracked
a smile. “Too bad the Blood Law prevails. She is more than a worthy mate,
Rafael.”

“Tell
me something I don’t already know,” Rafe grumbled as he strode after her.

When
he caught up, Falon abruptly stopped and held out her hand, palm up. “I want a
sword.”

He
nearly choked. “For what?”

“To
defend myself.” She snapped her fingers. “Now, please, and while you’re at it,
heal my damn foot so I can walk!”

Rafael
ignored her demeaning command of him and shook his head. “You’ll get yourself
killed. Stay here and wait for JorDon. He’s riding in with backup. I’ll entrust
you with bringing them up to speed on the situation.”

“Backup?”

“Angel
Ruiz, southern family. He has some personal business of his own with the
Slayers.”

Falon
shook her head. “I will not stand out here and wait when I can be of use
inside! I have a right to go in there. We’re here because of me!”

Rafael
leaned down into her space. Alphas were never challenged, not even by their
mates. Not unless they wanted to learn a harsh lesson. “You have no rights
unless I give you rights.” The minute Rafe said the words, he knew he was going
to pay.

She
slapped him hard across the cheek. “How dare you!”

Rafe
grabbed her hand before she could strike again. He pulled her so close to him
their breaths mingled. “Do not ever strike me.”

“You
are not the boss of me! You’re nothing but a brute! Kidnapping is against the
law! You have no right to hold me against my will.”

Frustrated
by her defiance in front of his pack, he shook her. “You accepted my mark. That
makes you mine. As such, I am your master, and you will obey me!” he growled as
his men began to gather around them.

“You
seduced me!”

Not
wanting to hurt her any more than he had, Rafael leashed his temper and pulled
her away from the gathering group. “I will not have this discussion with you
here, Falon. I own you. Accept it.”

She
yanked her arm from his grip. “If I am truly nothing but a possession of yours,
am I so unworthy that you’ll allow your brother to kill me if he gets the
opportunity?”

Rafael
rammed his fingers through his hair. This was not the time or place to discuss
any of this. “I cannot turn back time and undo what I have done. The Blood Law
trumps emotions and desire. Even mine.”

“What
did you do to your brother that was so horrible your laws mandate you serve me
up to him?”