Dawn Unleashed

Michael forced his eyes up from the display of generous cleavage and cleared his throat. His mind was already formulating exactly all the ways he could bend Bianca over the desk and turn her scowl into a grin of utter fulfillment. No one could do shrewd businesswoman like her. The woman had bitch honed into a work of art. Unfortunately, women in authority were a definite turn on for him. He shifted in his chair to hide his burgeoning erection. His thoughts were in the gutter and there was little hope of getting them out anytime soon. He wondered if she wore a thong or was totally in the buff under that tight knee length skirt. "My men and I have been ordered to stay behind to offer our assistance."

Bianca twiddled a pencil between her fingers. The pencil with its sharp pointy end could make a handy weapon in a bind, if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. Michael was nice eye candy and it'd a shame to ruin his face. Physically, he could be mistaken as a contestant in a Mr. Fitness competition. He was all broad shoulders and rope after rope of stacked, hard, lean muscle. The casual disarray of his dark hair begged for long strokes from her fingertips. She could imagine the thick black fringe of his eyelashes at half-mast over those rich sable colored eyes as she lapped her way down his chest with the tip of her tongue.

Nope. Not going there. What he had below the belt was painfully evident given the bulge he was sporting. The erection barely hidden beneath his black leather pants seemed more than adequate to get the job done and done well. Bianca focused on keeping the razor sharp scowl on her face that had frightened many an adversary into compliance over the ages. Her mind had a tendency to scamper to the naughty playground that hid in the very back of her brain whenever Michael was around her for more than ten minutes. "Your assistance is neither required nor appreciated."

"I'll be sure to convey your refusal of our aid to the Great Father."

Bianca's eyes narrowed into slits. The fury in her eyes burned like a hot flame. "Are you threatening me with the Great Father?" Angrily, she drummed her lacquered nails on the desk's gleaming surface. This wasn't going the way she'd imagined it at all. The fingers of her free hand rested on the hilt of the blade beneath her skirt. It was so tempting to carve her name into his chest and lap up the blood.

"I didn't realize our presence implied a threat." Michael studied the fury in Bianca's seemingly guileless eyes. Just exactly what had he said to transform a casual business meeting into a pissing contest? Outwardly, she was cool and collected. But, inwardly the fire raged so hot that he swore he could smell smoke. Not a hair so much as dared to slip from the pins holding back thick luxurious waves of jet black, so dark the highlights looked blue under the lights. What he wouldn't give to feel the softness of the strands between his fingers as he guided her head...He had to stop thinking like that about her. His leathers were already uncomfortably tight. Given that Bianca undoubtedly had a bigger set of balls than most men he knew. He still couldn't bring himself to adjust his current discomfort within view of the gentler sex.

Bianca snorted and gave Michael's statement a dismissive wave. "It doesn't. I just don't feel the presence of such a large garrison of warriors is necessary. After all, don't you have to get home and guard a pine tree or something?" The sensation of his dark eyes following the trail of her tongue as she licked her lips was both unnerving and exciting at the same time.

So, it was like that was it? She could play. She could definitely play. Michael was celibate by choice. A fact he made no attempt to hide. The idea that he might be the oldest living virgin in history was enticing in its own right. Crossing her legs at the knee and perched on the edge of the desk as she was, she gave him a good view of what he was missing out on.

Michael didn't use his size to intimidate often. Bianca seemed to need some convincing that his presence was indeed a necessity. He stood and leaned over the desk, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. The Guardians were good, but the Sons were better. The city was still deep under the siege of the drug named Pink. Day by day more if its inhabitants fell victim to the lure of an easy high.

Besides, there was still Daniel to think about. He'd promised the boy's father that he would stay behind and look after him. Daniel definitely ran with some bad company. O'Sullivan was a thug. Michael had his suspicions about exactly who was behind the manufacture and selling of the drug. Perhaps he could kill all his birds with one stone. Pin something that would stick on O'Sullivan and use it as an excuse to drag Daniel back home by his short hairs. He, unfortunately, though he loathed admitting it, had a gentler reason, a more personal one, to remain in the city. "Perhaps we could come to a compromise."

Bianca refused to crane her neck to stare up at the man towering over her. She would not budge one damn inch to put space between them. Her eyes stared at the tattoo poking out from underneath the collar of his black t-shirt. The markings that reminded her of exactly how very different the two of them were. "What did you have in mind?"

Michael dipped his head to engage her eyes. "I'll send the others back and remain behind, as a liaison."

Bianca jutted out her chin in defiance. Interference was still interference, no matter how pretty the package it came in. "We already have liaisons. Marcus and Sam are sufficient representatives of the Sons or do you doubt their abilities?"

Infuriating woman. Michael ground his molars to bite back the words issued by her challenge. "They're both adequately skilled. Good warriors. But, you need all the manpower on the streets you can get. Your Guardians are relatively young and untried in battle. You need people with experience."

Bianca planted her hands on the desk and pushed her body firmly against Michael's. It was so tempting to open her legs wide to accommodate his hips and wrap her ankles in a loop around his perfect ass to guide him in closer. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Their faces were inches away from each other. Neither one of them was willing to back down and be the first to cave. What she needed was this leather wearing, blade packing, absolutely egotistical, positively gorgeous, and way too distracting male out of her office. The nearness of his mouth was like a drug to her. Taunting her with the temptation of fruit yet to be harvested from the vine.

"You need my help. The pine trees will have to make due on their own," Michael said. Bianca's mouth was way too inviting. Her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes and rested there for a minute before flicking away. She was considering his offer. Unaware of her actions, she gnawed on her bottom lip as she thought out her options. To kick all the warriors out of the city would raise unwelcome attention that she obviously didn't want. To accept his offer might cause him to think that her Guardians were too weak to hold their own. Which, he absolutely knew differently for a fact. "Well? Do I send my men packing?"

Damn. Michael had her between a rock and a hard place and he knew it. Putting the pressure on her didn't bother him in the least. He didn't so much as blink as he waited patiently for her answer. She really, really didn't want the Sons sniffing around. So far, she'd managed to avoid stepping in the shit on her back stoop. Keeping one of the almighty warriors busy would certainly be easier than chasing after an entire garrison. "All right. You win," she said with a deep sigh of resignation. "Get your gear and make yourself at home."

Michael grinned in triumph. One small victory won. He needed to be at the heart of Guardian Central if he was going to be of any use to them. Besides, Marcus and Sam, as welcoming as they were with their home, were deep in the bonds of married bliss. The last thing he wanted was to be a third wheel. Bianca's bedroom was just beyond a thickly paneled door on the far side of the office. This was a girl who shifted gears from business to pleasure with ease. "Where do I sleep?"

"The men's quarters are one story below. Make yourself at home," Bianca said with a coy smile. "Patrols head out at dusk."

Chapter 5

Robert had given up his search and returned home. The Mountain Time zone gave him two extra hours in which to watch the never-ending show of nightmares. Night after night, the dreams would come. Each one was more horrific than the one before it. Not even the solitude of his familiar woods and the tiny cabin nestled cozily on the side of a steep mountain brought any sort of relief from the grim images in his mind. His son was lost to him. Not dead, but utterly lost.

Even though he'd been home for over six weeks. He still wore a thick layer of latex gloves on his hands. The terror of his visions was so deeply rooted that he feared any skin to object contact. Not even contact with items that he knew weren't contaminated by anyone's thoughts but his own were touched without the gloves. The risks of tapping into his gift, he'd thought, would be worth the benefit. He was so wrong.

After days of contact with objects, things, and people, he had a head full of nightmares. He'd failed to pinpoint his son's location. But, he'd caught enough glimpses to realize exactly what was happening to Cole and to fear the creature his son was destined to become.

He'd tried to engross his mind in his artwork and lose himself to the yielding of clay to his fingertips. Every sculpture he designed seemed to contain a piece of the nightmare playing in a repeating loop over and over in his head. Sales were down. People didn't invest in terror. They wanted happiness and sunshine. Perky bits of art that would bring light to their already dreary, horror filled lives.

The ringing of his cell phone jolted him upright into a startled sitting position in his bed. He fumbled in the dark and felt on the nightstand for his phone. The area code and number lit up on the display were familiar to him. Anxious for what little news the caller could provide he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Oh Robert, I didn't wake you did I?" The chipper voice on the other end asked. Jesse was nervous about talking to her ex. Robert's voice was gravelly and rough as it was upon first awakening. Really, it was odd the things you remembered about a person such as the sound of a voice upon awakening for the day. She blushed at the things flooding her memory banks. Robert slept naked, always had, and if she'd woke him up, and given the rustle of sheets against bare skin, she had. He was naked now.

"No Jess, I was awake." Robert dragged a hand over his face and tried to shake off the weariness caused by another sleepless night. In the background he could hear the rowdy explosion of noise that came with a houseful of children. The squeal of a toddler and the hurried tirade of a teenager's rapid speech served as bitter reminders that she'd gone on with her life and had left him behind.

"Well good. I wanted to call you and let you know that Cole is ok." His ex-wife's voice rose high, almost shrill in her excitement. "He's fine." The sounds of her hesitant exhale of relief echoed through the connection. "I thought for so long that something bad had happened to him. You can't imagine how good it was to see him again!"

Robert scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw and tried to make sense of it. Cole might not love him, but Robert was certain Cole loved his mother and though he'd never admit it, his half brothers and sisters. Cole would never risk his family. Robert knew him better than that. "How did he look, Jess?" He braced himself for the worst. A part wanted to hope for better and that the random glimpses he'd snatched from Cole's life were wrong.

"Great. He's grown into such a fine man. He's taller than you now. Wherever he's been, it's really worked out for the best. He looks like he's gained twenty pounds of muscle. This new life has been good to him. You'd be proud. Cole joined the Marines. Says, he's finally got a direction for his life."

Robert gritted his teeth, listening to Jessie talk on and on about their son. Cole must be a good actor if he could convince the woman who had raised him for over nineteen years that everything was absolutely peachy. Either that, or she was so desperate for good news that she hadn't heard anything other than what she wanted to hear. He didn't know. He couldn't read his ex-wife the way he'd once been able to. In the distance, he heard the wail of a baby's hungry cry. It was just another reminder of exactly how differently their lives had ended up. He couldn't bring himself to share his suspicions with Jess. She already had so much on her plate and she'd never understand. "That's good, Jess."

"Robert, you don't sound happy. Is there anything wrong? I thought you'd be just as thrilled with the news as I am." Jess bounced her daughter on her hip and wished the damned microwave would hurry up so that she could at least solve one crisis before another one began.

Her twin toddlers were too quiet and probably up to no good. They weren't perched in front of the TV or pestering her for their breakfast as they usually did in the morning. God, she hoped the twins hadn't found the markers and were entertaining themselves by drawing on the walls. Her daughter was stomping around upstairs, going off in a tirade about something probably less critical than the twins' current preoccupation with whatever had them so quiet. Her daughter would just have to take care of herself. Jess could only handle one crisis at a time. She plopped the bundle on her hip into the highchair and neatly deposited the bottle between her chubby fingers and moved through the house in search of the twins.

The last thing Robert needed was his ex worrying about him. Jess had always been a worrier. No doubt over the last thirteen years since their divorce, she had worry down to a fine art. "No. I'm glad Cole is ok. Really glad." Robert stared at nothing in particular as he listened to Jess's harried breathing. She was moving through the house, shuffling around this and that. The sounds were so ordinary and everyday. The noises of her life amplified the quiet of his. He scrambled for something reassuring to say and came up blank. They were strangers now. Cole was the only thing they had in common and he couldn't talk about Cole without blurting out the truth. "Look Jess, I'd better go. Someone sounds hungry."

"Yeah, that'd be the twins," Jesse said. She shooed them out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Thankfully, they'd gotten into the Mr. Bubble and had been in the process of finger painting the shower walls when she found them. Nothing serious and they hadn't made too much of a mess. She stumbled in the jumble of everything left unsaid between Robert and she and settled for an awkward silence. Before the problems with Cole she hadn't spoken to her ex in over a year and now, she wasn't sure of what else there was to say or how to say it.

Robert heard the awkwardness in Jess's voice. Her hesitation stretched out in the distance between them. "Ok, well. Jess, will you tell Cole if he ever needs anything or if you ever need me...please, call."

"I'll do that. Goodbye, Robert."

"Bye Jess," Robert said into the blank silence of the ended call. Despite any mask Cole could put on. Jess would notice the difference in their son. A mother always knew. Robert plopped into the chair at his computer desk and contemplated his hazardously low funds. He'd failed Cole thus far in his life. Maybe, there was still time left to turn things around and save his son.

The duffel bag he'd packed from the first trip was still in the corner where he'd left it. He scanned the Internet for a flight to book. A wicked March storm was about to roll through the Midwest and the inbound flights that hadn't been cancelled yet were filled to capacity for the rest of the week. He could risk it, camp out at the airport, and hope for a cancellation, or book the first flight available for next week. But, by then it might be too late.

The storm was one of those slow moving bastards that reaped havoc and left a path of snow and ice in its wake. Snowfall of greater than a foot had been predicted for most of the states in the path of the storm and that was just the appetizer before the main course of ice, high winds, and below freezing temperatures to be followed by a dessert of more snow. Too risky to fly and he hated flying and airports and people packed like sardines shoulder to shoulder anyway.

He opted for the open road with a hope and a prayer that his ancient jeep still had it in her to make the trip. Montana wasn't in the band of states in the path of the storm. Mother nature had already beaten the hell out of the mountains and the remote roads wouldn't be more than snow packed lanes till June. Most of the states he'd have to drive through were though. Ending up a NHTSA statistic on the interstate was a risk he'd have to take. If there were even the slightest chance that time hadn't run out for Cole, he was willing to do anything to save his only son.

Chapter 6

The compound was silent as Cole wound his way through the maze of halls to his room. Although, most of what the general public thought they knew about vampires was pure myth. Most of his counterparts preferred the night to broad daylight and dozed through the brightest hours of the day. Lucky for him, he'd always been a night person. With no need to guard him, the sets of eyes that had been assigned to keep tabs on him were off tending to other business.

That was good. He needed some time alone. He felt better now that he'd said his goodbyes, but couldn't quite shake the nagging sensation that not all of his loose ends were as neatly tied up as he wanted to believe they were.

Didn't matter, in a few, too few, short hours it'd be over with. His fate sealed forever. Cole flopped on the bed and stared up at the dimpled rock ceiling over his head. Compared to the stillness of waiting, the clock's hands frozen in place, the trials hadn't seemed like that big of a deal after all.

He didn't quite know what to do with himself. Every waking hour had been spent in preparation for tonight. John Mark wouldn't let him train today. Cole was supposed to spend these final hours as a human enjoying them. Cole supposed the intent was for him to contemplate his life. Where it had been and where it was going next.

He should venture down to the kitchen and raid the refrigerator. Anna had cooked him a virtual feast and had smiled knowingly, packing the food away into plastic containers without a grumble of complaint, when he confessed to her he simply couldn't manage a bite. His stomach grumbled from its neglect. He really should try to eat, but with as nervous as he was. He probably wouldn't keep the food down very long anyway. Tossing his cookies wasn't the way he wanted his last day as a human to be spent.

He thought about wandering into town and seeing if he couldn't coax some willing female into his bed for a last romp in the sack. The idea of that left him cold. He shuddered at the thought that he could end up a self-imposed monk like Michael. His cock was half erect at the concept nailing a final piece of ass before his big debut into the unknown. Unfortunately, his mind just wasn't on board with the plan.

He gave up cigarettes once he was of age to buy them and the lure of breaking the rules no longer came into play. He used to drink to the point of falling down stupid, because it was the thing to do at the time. Actually though, he'd never really developed a taste for alcohol. Soaking in a bubble bath was too girly for him to consider. Sex was out. Masturbation, one last yank on the chain for the hell of it, wasn't even a thought. Food wasn't appealing in the least. He could fill his head with the chatter of mindless reruns on TV and might before the day was over. He could roll over and take a nap, but what a waste that would be of his final day on earth as a living, breathing member of the human race.