Read Blood Law for Free Online Page A

but she didn’t dare move a muscle. She was
too afraid that if she struggled, the demon who held her so tightly against him
that she could scarcely breathe would drop her and leave her for Conan.
Unfortunately, she was just as terrified of where she would end up if this
whatever-the-hell-he-was took her away. The thought had her suddenly finding
her voice as well as her courage.
    “Let
go of me!” She kicked with her good leg against the ironhard thigh of her captor.
He readjusted her weight in his arm and turned toward Conan. Just as they
turned, a blazing force of energy slashed across her waist up to the bottom
swell of her breast. Falon screamed in anguish. The initial pain from the
attack had been bad enough, but instantaneously the wound burned as if someone
had poured a bottle of alcohol into it. She hissed and writhed, unable to find
a way to deal with the ungodly burn. She was going to die.
    “You
push me too far, Slayer.” The man holding her tightened his grip, and with a
mighty hurl he let his blade fly. In the white-hot haze of her pain, Falon
heard the sickening thunk of steel penetrating flesh and bone, the harsh scream
of a man in agony, then the slow hiss of air as it escaped his lungs.
    Unable
not to, she turned. The steel blade had impaled Conan straight through the
heart, passing through him and into the concrete as easily as if he were
butter.
    “He
won’t be pissing me off again,” Vulkasin said in a deadly whisper.
    Fear
and unholy agony pushed Falon’s heart into overdrive, the force of its beating
jamming her throat. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. She
prayed for sweet, blissful death.
    Vulkasin
turned a scorching grin on her. Then, thankfully, the world went dark.
    RAFAEL
SIGNALED FOR his men to mount up. Harleys revved around him. His sergeant at
arms, Anton, inclined his head toward the crumpled body hanging in Rafe’s arms.
    “What
do you want me to do with her?” Anton asked.
    Rafael
looked down at the ashen face. The girl—woman, he amended, as he felt the lush
weight of her breasts against his arm—weighed much less than half his two
hundred and forty pounds. Her height was a good hand and a half less than his
own six foot three. Except for her breasts, she was nothing but a bag of skin
and bones. Her state of health didn’t concern him, however. That she’d seen and
heard too much, did.
    He
looked around and noted no other strange faces around him. Had his men not been
circled around the corner grocery scaring those off who might have rubbernecked
the fray, he would have had to do some serious cleanup. As it was, there was
merely this sole slip of a woman to deal with.
    For a
moment, he studied her, remembering the fire and courage she’d shown as she’d
fought the Slayer and tried to flee them both. A grudging admiration swept
through him, and he hesitated. But only for a second. She could only bring
trouble. He didn’t need the attention, and he sure as hell didn’t want it.
    He
turned, nodded, and made to hand her over to Anton. Her eyes flickered open,
and deep murky pools of what he thought might be blue eyes beneath all of her
suffering stopped him. Once again, he hesitated, but as Anton grabbed her arms,
her ripped sweatshirt fell open, exposing full, creamy breasts. Blood shot to
his cock. Rafe growled but released her to his sergeant at arms.
    His
desire sealed her fate. He wanted no woman clouding his resolve. No woman for
his brother to use against him.
    As he
looked down at her, Anton licked his lips.
    “Make
her end painless,” Rafe softly said.
    Anton
nodded, but his eyes sparked in undisguised lust.
    “No,
Anton. Leave her some dignity.”
    Anton
scowled but again nodded. As he turned toward an adjacent alley, Rafael strode
to Salene, pulled his sword from his chest, and deftly decapitated him. Seconds
later he watched the Slayer turn to dust. He wiped the sword blade across his
right thigh, cleaning any vestige of the Slayer