Blood Law Read Online Free PDF Page B

around the blond,
black-leather-clad man. He was, in very plain speak, magnificent. And lurking
beneath his glory was a deadly supernatural energy. The commanding presence of
the man standing at the threshold of the store could not be denied. Nor could
the contempt twisting his lips. She swallowed hard and wondered which man was
more of a threat.
    “Vulkasin,
you cur. How dare you show yourself!” Conan spit.
    Vulkasin
strode into the store, his chin raised, his nostrils flaring. “The stench of
death follows you, Slayer. Do you never grow weary of the kill?”
    Conan
raised Falon up and held her out toward the intruder. “The quickening has
begun, Lycan. Prepare yourself.” Falon tore her gaze from the intruder, who had
not even glanced at her, and turned to the lunatic who held her so tightly she
could scarcely breathe. He turned rabid black eyes on her.
    “No,”
she croaked, knowing he was going to bite her. She shoved at him, madly trying
to gather her thoughts and blast him one last time. His grip tightened. He
ripped the front of her sweatshirt open with his teeth, revealing her naked
breasts. His eyes glinted hungrily. Not, she realized, with lust but with
possession. As if he had won the lottery and he was mentally counting all the
terrible ways he could spend the money.
    “We
are destined to be one,” he breathed.
    A
dark shadow fell over them. Falon screamed, not sure if it was because of the
bite Conan was about to take out of her or because she’d locked gazes with the
one he called Vulkasin—the one that looked as if he’d just escaped the bowels
of hell with every intention of bringing them right back with him.

Three
    CONAN
DROPPED FALON to the floor, then swept her behind him with a booted foot to her
chest. She slid several feet on her own blood before slamming into a wall hard
enough to force the air from her lungs.
    Even
as Falon gasped for breath, she was very aware of the two furies before her,
and of her need to get the hell out of there. Fast.
    But
even as she tried to flee, her bloody hands offered no traction on the slippery
floor. Her right foot throbbed with pain as she tried to backpedal away from
the two whatever-the-hell-they-weres.
    The
sharp shaving sound of steel against steel echoed in the small grocery. Aside
from her gasps for air, it was the only sound. As the two beasts circled one
another to the left of her and away from the door, Falon rolled, trying to inch
closer to escape. She turned over and looked up, paralyzed by awe.
    The
fantastic sight before her was breathtakingly terrifying. Vulkasin stood
battle-ready with two gleaming broadswords, one in each fist, the fluorescent
lights glittering off the sharp edges in a weird play of colors.
    Conan
held only one sword, but it was larger, with a hook at the end of it. He
slashed it down on the dark one’s right sword and yanked. Vulkasin yanked
harder, pulling Conan toward him. Mere inches from Conan’s nose, Vulkasin
sneered. “Do you really think, Viktor, you can best me at swords?”
    The
barbarian spun around, shoving the hooked end of his sword down to the pommel
of Vulkasin’s. Vulkasin laughed and kicked Conan in the chest. “Is that all you
have? And in front of the girl? How do expect to win her with such a pathetic
show of strength?”
    “You
overrate yourself, Vulkasin. My powers are equal to yours, but my mind is not
befuddled with your archaic sense of honor.” Conan flew backward in the air,
but even as he did, he twisted in a Matrix move, landing squarely on his feet.
Fear turned Falon’s blood to ice. She told herself to run, to flee while they
were distracted, but her body disobeyed her. Stunned, she could not look away.
    “You
flaunt your arrogance, Viktor. How do you think I found you so easily?”
Vulkasin leapt high over Conan, tiptoed across the ceiling, then—with arms
extended wide—somersaulted in beautiful symmetry. Body and blades formed a
perfect iron cross. As he came down, the jager