Dawn's First Light

"Yes, child. You're thirsty and hungry. I have a buffet waiting for you. Anything you want. Food. Drink. And I'll bet you would like to visit the facilities before you sit down to dinner wouldn't you? All I need is your cooperation. Keene and the brotherhood have abandoned you. I'm the only one here for you. If only you could demonstrate your faith in me first. I can give you anything at all you want."

Lori burst into tears at the mention of the bathroom. She hurt from holding her full bladder for so long. Food and drink were secondary needs compared to a bathroom. But, not even Roark's soft coaxing words and the promise of a few moments of privacy were enough to sway her. "I...I can't. I love him."

Roark grinned and cupped Lori's cheeks in his palms. He brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. This little morsel was simply going to be a decadent treat. "Shh, there's no need to cry. Come." Gently, he eased her out of the guest suite and lifted her off the floor. She stumbled and fell into his arms as her legs failed to support her weight. Humans and their bodily needs disgusted him. It was better than ignoring her and leaving her to sully his carpet with her filth. Almost fatherly, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, carefully lowering her to her feet at the door.

Lori wobbled at first as the pins and needles jabbed up and down her legs. Clutching the doorframe she took her first gingerly steps. "Thank you." He waved her off with a warm smile that if not for her bladder about to burst would have curled her toes and gently eased the door shut. Lori hustled for the toilet and practically tore her underwear off before she embarrassed herself all over the floor. Heaven. She tended to her needs and cried fat tears of relief and doubt. Roark was wrong about Keene. He'd never abandon her. The brothers would never desert her. They were coming for her. But, it had been over twelve hours. Locked alone in complete darkness, twelve hours might as well have been an eternity.

After she was finished and had washed her hands. She guzzled water from the tap in her cupped palms. The liquid was cool and refreshing, sating her thirst. Splashing her face, she stared up at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying. Her complexion looked waxy and pale in the garish white of the light bulbs shining down on her. Her beautiful dress was torn and stained with dirt. Glancing over her shoulder, Lori carefully eased the drawers to the vanity open to search for something she could use as a weapon. There was nothing. Not even an emery board. Just a stack of neatly folded towels and washcloths and a bar of soap tucked away for guests. If Keene and the brothers didn't come, she couldn't even manage to save herself.

Roark had little patience for humans and this girl was trying the thin thread he had left. She inched the bathroom door open and stared through the crack with wide green eyes. So hesitant, as if she'd have time to slam it in his face if he chose differently. It'd be the last mistake she ever made. He pasted a smile on his face that made him all but wretch and coaxed her through the doorway. "All better now? " He sent waves of power out and her skin prickled from the sudden surge of the cold from his touch. "We have an understanding then."

Lori tried to increase the distance between them. But, there really wasn't any way to get out of striking range. Yeah, they had an understanding. It just that she hadn't reached the same conclusion he had. "Keene is coming for me and he'll kill you when he gets here. I won't help you. Ever."

With an agitated roar, Roark gripped Lori's hair by the roots of and jerked her head back exposing her throat. He inhaled the heady scent of her fear and paused with his fangs inches from her carotid artery. "Oh, I think you will." He twisted her hair in his fist and forced her to her knees. Towing her by the roots of her hair across the slick, polished floors to his room, he grinned down at her. Her feet scuffled against the floor as she scrabbled to match his pace and clawed pitifully at his wrist to loosen his hold. He would break her.

Lori pressed her lips together to hold back the scream building in her throat. Her scalp was an explosion of agony as Roark hauled her into the bedroom. Her skin burned from the friction of being dragged across the wood floor. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of crying out or begging for mercy. He was the kind of sick, sadistic bastard that got off on it and the slightest whimper would only fuel his desire. A gasp she hadn't meant to release escaped her lips as he yanked her to her feet and pinned her against the bedpost. The ornately carved wood dug relentlessly into her spine as he pressed his weight into her. He held her wrists over her head locking them together with his fingers while his free hand slid down over her breast to the curve of her waist and lower to the hem of her dress.

"You're so young and tender," Roark hissed low in his throat. Her breasts rose and fell brushing against his chest in time with her panting breaths. Tears she tried desperately to restrain behind her lashes spilled over her cheeks. He dipped his head forward and trapped a crystalline tear on the tip of his tongue, savoring the salty taste of her fear. Her hands trembled in his grip. He worked his knee between her thighs, parting them as he eased his fingertips along the seam of her skimpy panties. "I bet you taste simply decadent."

"If you kill me he'll never come," Lori gritted through clamped teeth. Roark's tongue burned hot against her skin. Her throat was dry with fear and her heart pounded. She stifled a cry as his fingertips stroked the border of her panties and worked their way to the curls beneath.

"I don't intend to kill you. Only to have a bit of entertainment while wait for Keene to arrive." Roark pulled his hand free from her lacy panties and traced the outline of her lips with his fingertips, chuckling as she twisted her head in revulsion of the smell and taste of her sex on his skin. He dropped his hand to his belt and unfastened the buckle, tugging the leather strap free from his slacks. "You have no idea of the things we can do together to pass the time."

Lori held her breath as Roark tore the ruffled hem of her skirt free from the dress and used it to bind her wrists to the bedpost. She could only guess at the things he was about to do to her and none of them were pleasant. With her restrained and helpless, he paced back and forth in front of her. Whistling some nonsense jingle she'd heard on the TV at least a thousand times as he removed his suit coat and hung it on the stand at the foot of the bed.

Roark grinned triumphantly at the terrified girl bound, so beautiful in her terror, to his bedpost. She was an exquisite work of art, trembling in her fear. He could hear her heart pound wildly in her chest. And the scent of her fear called to him in a heady, enticing aroma. But, he was only getting started. He fully intended to keep her alive. What condition she'd been in however, was an entirely different story. Pacing back and forth in front of her, he wound the leather belt around his fist.

A shiver of cold, icy panic ran along Lori's skin. She jumped as the leather belt snapped like the recoil of a whip inches from her ear. Fear excited him. He lived for pain. Squeezing her eyes closed tightly she drew upon her memories of the beautiful places that Keene had shown her. Willing her mind to be there in the blissful fantasyland instead of locked with her body in a living hell, she breathed through her terror. Inside her mind was the only safe haven she had left.

She felt his hands on her skin. She heard the fabric of her dress rip as he tore it from her body. She clamped her molars together and held her limbs rigid and still beneath his touch. She wouldn't feed into his sick game by fighting back. He could do whatever he wanted to her physically. The body was just a shell. In her mind, she was free. He couldn't reach her there.

"Fuck!" Roark bellowed. "Damn you!" he screamed into her face. Shaking Lori ruthlessly, he grabbed and pinched at her trying to elicit a response. But, she stood, relaxed in her bindings oblivious to the things he did to her. She wasn't playing the game! It wasn't any fun if she didn't play along. In a fit of rage he backhanded her in the cheek. Her head bounced off the bedpost with a loud crack of flesh striking wood. She sagged from her bindings, limp and as unaware as a child's rag doll. Cursing at himself for losing control, he tore her free and dropped her to a heap on the floor. She wasn't dead. The blow had merely rendered her unconscious. In a fit of rage, he stormed out of the room leaving her there to live or to die. At this point, his judgment so clouded by his raw fury, he didn't care which.

Chapter 52

Lori floated adrift in a sea of darkness. Comforted by the nothingness of it. She awoke with the sun warm shining down on her face. Thinking it was one of the places Keene had shown her and that she must still be dreaming. "Child, you must wake," a soft feminine voice gently commanded. The sound was so musical and melodic Lori assumed that it belonged to an angel and the direction of her dream had only shifted.

"I don't want to. It's nice here," Lori pouted. She didn't want to go back to the horror of her reality. She kept her eyes closed and savored the peacefulness of this place.

"Child, you must. Keene is coming for you. You must fight to stay alive." Kokumthena brushed her soft hands over Lori's closed eyelids and willed the girl to open them.

"You're not an angel?"

Kokumthena laughed lightly. Her voice high and light, like the tinkling of thousands of tiny bells. "No, not that I'm aware of."

Awestruck by the purity of her beauty, Lori blinked from the pain of looking at the woman. A long mane of silver white hair flowed down across her back. Her skin was bronze, the tone so deep and rich it seemed to glow from within. Her eyes glimmered darkly, like precious obsidian stones. And her face, wrinkled with wisdom, had a kindness to it. "You're so beautiful," she said, reaching out a hand to touch the woman's silver hair.

"Child, I know your pain and I would gladly free you of its curse. But, you cannot be where I am. You must live, for Keene's sake. He's waited a long time for you to arrive. He will not survive your loss. The brotherhood cannot stand against two combined forces of such power. He is his father's son. And he carries the burden of the darkness within him. Without you he cannot see his way. You are the light for his path." Kokumthena plucked a brilliantly colored pink rose from her silver hair and pressed it into Lori's hand. "You must survive."

Lori felt the throbbing pain in the back of her head as the Grandmother faded from her view and the world slowly came into focus. She moaned softly. Lacking the strength to move, she lay on her stomach and breathed through the pain. The hardwood was blessedly cool against her flushed skin. She wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. But, for Keene, she forced her eyes to stay open.

Angel crept out of her bedroom and stared at the closed door at the end of the hall. Roark had stormed out of the apartment in a fit of sheer fury. She fought back a wave of nausea. She knew what he'd done to the poor girl. He'd done it to her and so many others, more times than she could count or cared to remember. She knew the agony the girl suffered, the humiliation, the guilt, the degradation, and the shame. He got off on their pleas for mercy. It made him feel powerful. It made her sick. In the back of her mind, she hoped Keene would kill him. Roark deserved it.

She didn't know what he'd done to Lori. But, she had to find out. The door to his bedroom was left unguarded. And the penthouse was eerily empty and silent. Holding her breath, a truly human habit she hadn't fully broken, she slipped into his bedroom, half expecting to see a corpse splayed out on the bed. Gasping in a mix of relief and shock, she saw Lori, alive and coming around, crumpled in a heap on the floor. Angel fought back her primal need to feed when the sweet, coppery scent of Lori's blood hit her nostrils.

Her lust for vengeance against Kayla was temporarily forgotten. Replaced by the need to help Lori before Roark returned to finish what he'd started. It was her fault that Lori was here. Angel had condemned someone else to the same fate she'd suffered and the guilt of it was swallowing her alive. If she could manage to save Lori, maybe she could live with herself again. This was her final act of rebellion against Roark. He tried to turn her into something she could never truly be. A killer. She hadn't understood that when Keene tried to convince her to leave. And many people had lost their lives to her appetite in the time it took her to finally figure it out.

Gently Angel scooped Lori up off the floor. She didn't have much time. If Roark caught her helping Lori, they were both dead. She didn't know if she was strong enough, or if her blood was potent enough. But, but she'd seen it heal. She stretched Lori out on the bed and bit her wrist. "Drink."

Lori clamped her lips shut. She didn't want to be restored to health only for Roark to beat her life out of her again. Wincing in the agony caused by the slightest movement, she turned her head away from Angel. She'd live by the sheer force of her will, not because somebody made her.

"Drink, damn it. You're too badly injured to risk moving too far. I'm trying to get you out of here. Drink, or we're both dead," Angel hissed. Looking over her shoulder, she gritted, "We don't have much time." Roark had minions positioned all over the city and the penthouse was under heavy guard.

Lori winced at the open wound in Angel's wrist and the blood falling in fat, lazy drops from the punctured skin. If she could escape, it was worth any price she had to pay. This could be a trick. Some kind of sick game Roark dreamed up to get her to break the link she shared with Keene. But, why? She wasn't any good to Roark if he couldn't use her to get to Keene. Gritting her teeth, Lori pressed her mouth to the wound and swallowed a few drops of the blood. Immediately, she felt its chill down to her toes as the healing properties worked their way through her system. Knitting her wounds closed and healing her from the inside out. She shivered against a new wave of pain. The freezing cold seized her limbs. Gripping the bedding she struggled not to cry out from the agony.

They didn't have time for this. Lori's body twitched and jerked as it healed the damage. Frowning in irritation at how long it took the girl to recover, she snatched Roark's shirt off the stand and shoved Lori's arms through the sleeves. The scent might confuse the guards long enough to buy them a few much needed seconds. There was nothing she could do to hide the smell of the blood caked in Lori's hair or the lingering traces of Keene's scent on her skin. "We need to go. Now."

Lori wrapped her arm around Angel's neck and struggled to stay upright. The room spun and black dots flashed in her vision. The blood was working but she was far from healed. She leaned heavily on Angel and stood on shaky, wobbly legs that barely supported her weight. "Wait a minute. Why are you helping me?"

"Shit, we haven't got time for this," Angel said as soon as she realized Lori wasn't going to recover as quickly as she thought. "Hang on." Hefting Lori's weight into her arms, Angel slung her over a shoulder and ran for the door. Feeding Lori had weakened her more than she thought it would have. Either that or the girl had suddenly put on about one hundred pounds. Their escape would be slower than she'd anticipated. And she didn't know how far she'd get them. But, what other choice did she have? Roark would kill them both.

Angel bolted through the townhouse and opted for the stairs instead of the elevator. Which, would cut off their escape. The stairs were their best bet. Slung over her shoulder, Lori's body bumped heavily against her hip. Luckily, there were no guards on the stairwell. But, she was sure that their reprieve was temporary. Sooner or later they'd run into a guard, if not Roark himself. And then well...she had a rather shitty life anyway and an even shittier death seemed only a fitting end.

******

Roark crouched on the rooftop and smiled smugly. Angel had taken the bait. He knew she was still tied to her human bonds. He felt her sympathy for the girl. And like all things, he manipulated it to his advantage. The plan was simple. In one swoop he was going to take out the trash and rid himself of all his problems. He had no doubt Keene and the brotherhood would arrive in the city any second and come pounding at his door. As spacious as his townhouse was, he needed room to work. And his luxurious home was not the proper setting for a battle. Blood was a bitch to get out of exotic hardwood. And his furnishings alone cost more than the GNP of a small country.

Secrets had to be kept at all costs. Be a little tricky to explain to the human authorities how a man could fall from such a great height as his towering windows and simply get up and walk away. Surely, the brotherhood could appreciate his fore planning. He gave Angel a little lead-time to make her think that her escape was successful and then snapped his fingers at his minions. Their orders were to corral her to the proper location. They were not to engage, only to make sure she got there.

He had grandiose plans. Tonight his scheming would pay off. Kayla's treachery was of little consequence. He'd primarily used her to garner Angel's full cooperation. Kayla was human, and he could deal with her easily enough. Keene, on the other hand, was an obstacle. The man knew too much and the sooner he was out of the way, the better.

Roark could hope the brothers brought their entire force out to play. But, he knew better. No matter, their numbers were smaller than he'd expected. Once he cut through their finest, conquering the rest would be as easy as taking candy from a baby. The world balanced on the ends of his fingertips. All he had to do was close his fist and capture it. And tonight, he would.

*****

The Great Father had no idea what his brother was up to. The man was co-founder of a great race and he'd gotten a sudden urge to venture into the city to go clubbing. Clubbing? The loud thumping music set his fangs on edge. The stink of hundreds of different kinds of perfume, sweat from too many bodies crammed into such a small place, cigarette smoke, and cheap alcohol stung his nose. And the scantily dressed females, as tempting as their bountiful flesh was, held no interest for him at all. The nightclub was a din of inequity and sins of the flesh. He frowned as he watched the Great Prophet wade into the fray of undulating bodies on the dance floor, where he proceeded to humiliate himself by dancing badly. There was only one other person more socially backwards than he, and it was his brother.

What in the hell were they doing here? In over two hundred years his brother suddenly had an itch to scratch? What? The Great Father turned to face the crowd and leaned back with his elbows on the bar. He waved off the human female that all but offered herself to him on a silver platter. A huntress on the prowl, she abandoned him moved off in search of easier prey. Oh, he got it. The lures of the flesh were not unknown to him. He had been human and sometimes he missed the simplicity of it. Humans were governed by instinct and primitive drives. Their whole lives were about sating the lesser beasts within them. His instincts were lethal to humans and he'd conquered them a long time ago. As for the tender trap of pleasures of the flesh, it was just another foe to be mastered.