After Dawn, What Came Next

“That, dear child, you cannot,” Carter answered.

Ray bristled at being called a child. “I’m not a Child,” he grated between clenched jaws.

“Tell me that when you get to be my age. Have you gotten whatever it is out of your system?”

Ray honestly didn’t know what he intended to do next. Carter neatly folded the sweaty towel and draped it over the treadmill. Looking at him with those disconcerting blue eyes of his. Ray had the feeling that Carter had a lot of regrets. Maybe, that sort of came with the territory of living as long as Carter probably had. The truth, although Carter wore an expressionless, cool mask on his face, was there in his eyes. Where it was impossible to hide. “You really didn’t answer my question. Who was she, Carter? Did you love her?”

“Enough to do what was best for her. Had I loved her less, she would still be here, with me.” Carter sensed that R.J. although calmer was still on the verge of destruction. There was one thing a wolf, no matter how low in the pack pecking order, could resist. A challenge. Carter unbuttoned his ruined silk shirt and draped it over the railing. R.J. needed an outlet for his frustration before he brought the building down around them. “You still want to kick somebody’s ass? Well, here I am. I think you’ll find I’m a little more indestructible than your companions. Unless of course, you’d rather go back to pining away over whomever it is has you in such a state.”

Ray grinned and cracked his knuckles. It was a rare opportunity to take on a vampire and even rarer still for a chance to spar with a master vampire of Carter’s ilk. Carter was broader than Ray expected. Wider through the shoulders and the lean bulk of his muscles deceptively hidden beneath his clothes. Could he take him? Probably not. But, trying might be exactly what he needed.

The array of scars on Carter’s body surprised Ray. Carter had always worn long sleeves and Ray had never seen him in anything less. There was a deep swatch of ruined flesh on Carter’s inner right forearm and further up, on the bicep. The scarred marks of a slave band. Over his heart was a flash of silvery scar tissue and down low at his flank the scars of what could only be claw marks. If the scars bothered Carter, he made no indication of it. Ray was curious though, by Carter’s scars, the ones on the outside that he hid and the ones on the inside buried so deeply. “If I get you to yield, will you answer all my questions?”

Carter raised a blond brow. Out of all the spoils of war he could have used to entice R.J. into the ring he hadn’t expected that. R.J. stretched and arched his back, cracking his spine. Smirking at him with a cocky smile that reminded Carter too much of Shayla. That same grin used to spread across her face when she was up to no good. R.J. was tall and well built, not quite his height, but few people were. R.J. had no chance of beating him in the ring, but if a few tries would help R.J. to find his center again, why not wave the carrot under his nose. “Each and every one of them, child.”

R.J. did Carter proud. Although he was surprisingly enough, getting his ass effectively kicked by nothing more than an infant in his world, Carter was about to burst with pride. R.J. moved with a grace and speed, not as common to a wolf, but more akin to that of a vampire. The babe would have done serious damage if it weren’t for the fact that Carter’s body could heal almost any insult. Almost. Few wounds were fatal to a vampire. Bruises and cuts would heal almost immediately. Broken bones would knit together within minutes to an hour. A knick to a vital organ was of no consequence.

Some things though were fatal. A vampire could be killed if the damage sustained was more than he could heal. Lucien had bled out on the battlefield. Carter hadn’t been there, but he had heard the stories. A lucky strike with a blade had almost cut the man in half. Lucien had almost taken John Mark with him and probably the boy would have laid down his life protecting Lucien’s fallen corpse if not for Robbie. Decapitation or a bullet through the brain was a pretty effective way of dispatching the undead straight to hell. The brotherhood didn’t use bullets though. They liked things messy, up close and personal, to look an enemy in the eye and make sure the fire of justice burning within was the last thing an enemy saw before being sent to hell.

Carter doubled over as if a fist had been sent straight into his gut. At the speed in which R.J. moved, he wasn’t quite certain it hadn’t. Carter coughed and tried to clear Eric’s final moments from his mind. Megan, an ordinary seventeen year-old girl at the time, had been the one to grant him the one thing Carter never had. Peace. Memories of the blood stained snow clouded Carter’s vision. Eric had given his life for them, for Bianca and him. At the end, he had known the one thing Carter had never wanted to admit. They weren’t lovers, but Carter had loved him enough to die trying to save him.

“You’re slow, old man,” Ray taunted. If Carter were holding back, he didn’t need to. His dad had trained him, been training him for combat since he was old enough to toddle. Every game they played was designed to increase his skills. Ray had gotten a bow and arrow set for his fifth birthday and by the time he was ten, he was a deadeye with any kind of weapon. Being a boy, he had always felt a little silly about being forced into taking ballet and gymnastics lessons. But, he didn’t regret them now. Carter was nimble and quick on his feet. Fast, but not quite fast enough to avoid Ray’s fists.

The wolf in him reveled at the excitement of sparring. Pushing his body to his physical limits and challenging his mind with strategies of how to best such a worthy opponent appealed to his human side. His wolf though was engaged in a fight for supremacy. Such contests were common in the pack. Rendered with flesh and bone, pain and blood, pecking orders were established. Ray wasn’t top dog in the pack. But, oh, a part of him wanted to unleash his wild side and give Carter a run for his money.

Ray held his wolf back, keeping his beast under tight rein. He didn’t want to maim Carter or risk the possibility of killing him. Carter was a vampire, but not a wolf. He couldn’t possibly fight a wolf and hope to win. For a wolf, there were only one of two options. Fight or yield. And the fight wasn’t over until it was over. In their current state of mind, with the wolf howling in his head and his mind already whirling from his encounter with Tom, he could do, possibly permanent, damage to the vampire.

Carter was being careful with him. Aiming his punches away from anything too vital and landing them in areas where they wouldn’t inflict too much damage. Ray understood. Carter was in charge of seeing to the Brat Pack’s safety and if he sent him home battered and bruised, splinted or sutured, there would be hell to pay. Wolves did heal incredibly fast, thanks to their preternatural side. The marks left behind from any punches Carter did manage to land would heal in a few hours or so. Cuts healed almost as fast, but tended to scar. Broken bones and internal injuries took a little longer, a week or so without any intervention.

Wolves could be killed. He had never seen a fight to the death in the pack. Thank God for that. Weapons weren’t allowed in challenges. Challenges for supremacy were a contest of skill, endurance, and no small measure of luck. A bullet, and no, it did not have to be silver; aimed at anything too vital would take down a wolf. Wolves were not immune to sharp pointy objects be they fangs or blades.

As the pack had learned tranquilizer darts would incapacitate a wolf quite effectively also. That in itself was one reason the pack protocols had been changed. No one went out alone on patrols. The brothers teamed up with the wolves, one compensating for the weakness of the other. And whether they wanted to admit it or not, a vampire did have vulnerabilities. They thought too much like humans. When a wolf engaged in the fight, he could shed any emotion as easily as he shed his human skin.

Carter fought with his fists and feet, his movements as artful as a dance. Ray was slightly dazzled by the harmony of mind and body Carter displayed. Physically, the scales were tipped in Carter’s favor. He could leap higher and farther, move faster, and had centuries of experience in the art of defense under his belt. Carter alternated between delivering one two punches and leaping up into the rope work overhead out of the aim of Ray’s countermoves. His wolf preferred to keep both feet on terra firma and Ray avoided the maze of ropes like the plague.

Ray’s lips curled over his teeth as he loosed a low growl from his throat after being waylaid by a firm kick to the jaw. Carter coiled his muscles unleashing rippling rings of preternatural power as he leapt for the ropes. Ray anticipated such a move and barreled into him, slamming Carter onto the mat with a powerful, fang chattering body slam. He kept a tight hold on Carter and on his wolf. His wolf wanted Carter’s throat. His human side was experiencing something a little different, lust in desperate need of an outlet and dominance, utterly masculine and prideful. Both emotions stirred to a boiling by holding such a beautiful man of secrets pinned beneath him.

Blood dripped from the cut in R.J.’s chin onto Carter’s cheek and trickled down the curve of his jaw. Nothing brought even the best of vampires to his knees faster than the essence of fresh blood. Carter’s fangs were out and his beast on the prowl. He knew the enticement and the sweetness of the most powerful blood there was. Wolf blood, tinged with a trace of humanity, the promise of true immortality, and the preternatural force that was life itself. The brotherhood protected the pack for reasons that went far beyond any familial ties. One taste of their blood, one hint of their reality, and any vampire would never stop until he had drained every last one of them.

Carter’s hands fisted R.J.’s hair, twisting R.J.’s head back to expose his vulnerable neck. Extending his jaw, Carter brought his tongue into the path of R.J.’s healing cut and caught a drop, just one crimson drop on the tip. A shudder rushed through Carter at the strength and purity of the blood rolling over his tongue. Drowning in memories, Carter threw R.J. off of him. He was lost to the sing song voice from his past. Feeling the warmth of the tiny body, so helpless and innocent, in his arms and hearing the sweet high pitched call of the heart broken little boy crying out for him on that winter’s night so very long ago. “You are my son!”

Ray landed on the mat with a hard, bone charring thud. Scrabbling to suck in breaths, he blinked up at Carter and saw the reality of the man behind the mask. Carter was a devil in an angel’s guise. Saying things to confuse him, truths that were…that had to be untrue, yet Ray had the sense Carter lied about nothing. “What?” Carter hefted him off the mat, slamming him into a wall and holding him there as if he weighed nothing. Face to face and eye to eye, Carter’s cold blue stare met his and held him trapped within it. Carter bit his wrist and forced the flesh between Ray’s lips. The blood, sweet and decadent rolled over his tongue. Ray’s throat worked to swallow the first mouthful down.

Carter gasped at the sensation of his blood leaving his body and flowing into R.J. He pumped his hand into a fist, forcing more blood into R.J.’s mouth and down his throat in a series of involuntary swallows. “I yield. You wanted my secrets, boy, and you shall have them.” R.J. convulsed in his grip, arms and legs flailing uselessly to release Carter’s hold. Carter dropped to the floor, taking R.J. with him. He cradled R.J.’s still spasming body in his arms and brushed the sweat-soaked strands of dark hair off the boy’s forehead. “God help you, R.J. God help us both.”











Chapter 56

Determined to find her brother and more than a little worried about Tom after scenting his blood in the hallway, Phoenix poked her head into the darkened bedroom. Tom was out like a light, snoring as loudly as a buzz saw and completely reeking of expensive whisky and to Phoenix’s surprise, of her brother. In hopes of trying to locate Ray, she shook Tom to wake him and ask if he knew where Ray was. Tom snorted and swung drunkenly at her head before rolling over and falling fast asleep.

She settled on her haunches and watched Tom sleep. Tom’s lips were swollen as if he had been thoroughly kissed and the sweet aroma of lust lingered thick in the air. She tried to puzzle it out and came up with nothing. Humans did strange things when they were drunk. Tom wasn’t immune to the effects of alcohol like the wolves were. Oh, a wolf could get drunk, if he drank enough. She supposed. But, it would be an exercise in futility to try to drink any member of the pack under the table.

Phoenix righted the tumbled bottle of whisky and sniffed the contents. She couldn’t imagine how much of the stuff Tom had forced himself to drink in order to pull off this good of a buzz. She knew why he had done it. He had hit the hard stuff in an attempt to drink Cat out of his system. Phoenix wondered how that was going to work out for him in the morning. Cat loved Tom. Cat loved all of them. Unfortunately for Tom, Cat’s love was more of a brother and sister type of love. Not necessarily what Tom wanted from her, but should be damn grateful that he had.

Phoenix knew exactly how Tom felt, only the tables were turned and she was in love with someone who would never love her the way she loved him. Phoenix had been daydreaming about Tom since she was twelve. Popping out of her training bra and developing curves, she had tried to win even a glance from Tom. He was older than she by a couple of years and miles and miles out of her league.

He was the cool older bad boy heartbreaker that fathers wanted to pound into a pulp and girls spent their nights pining for. She had never gotten over her first crush and unfortunately neither had her brother. Tom couldn’t help what he was or whom he loved, no more than Ray or she could. She just wished for everyone’s sake that the three of them could move on. Mr. or Miss Right was out there waiting for her brother and he was wasting his time with Tom, or maybe not, if her sense of smell was right. She wished she could move on and quit waiting for Tom to notice she had grown up into a woman.

Who was she kidding? Tom would never notice her or her brother. She could, would force herself, to be happy for Ray if Tom and he ever hooked up. She would be delirious for her brother, to see him happy for once, and it would mean she could finally stop wanting someone who didn’t want her. Phoenix reached up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen across Tom’s cheek away from his face. “You come back for more, you fucker?” Tom slurred. “Goddamn you, Ray.”

“Tom, it’s Phoenix.” Tom reached up a hand and began patting her head, stroking his fingers over her hair like one would pet a dog. His eyes were still closed and at such a close range, she could smell the whisky on his breath. He was half out of it, very drunk, sexually charged, and rippling with anger and self-loathing. Phoenix had no idea of what happened between her brother and Tom, but it had left Tom in a hell of a condition. “Tom, is Ray ok? Are you?”

“Ray is probably finer than the hairs on a frog’s ass.” Tom rolled over, ignoring the dizzying sensation of the room spinning from the slight jarring of the mattress. He opened his eyes, seeing two of Phoenix. Squinting and closing one eye he forced his vision to focus on her. Damn, she looked so much like Ray it was terrifying, almost as if she were Ray but with tits and curves. Fuck Ray! Fuck Cat! Fuck the whole world. Ray had forced him to confront a side of himself he didn’t want to admit existed. Cat had forced him into a dark place inside of himself that he would rather ignore. And Phoenix, if she knew what was good for her, she’d run like hell before his brain came fully back on line and he did something or said something he was certain to later regret. He had enough regrets for one night. Thank you very much.

Tom swabbed his thumb lightly over Phoenix’s lower lip. Her eyes were large and round and so innocent it made his teeth ache and temples throb. Her dark hair dangled over her shoulders, spilling to cover the tops of her breasts. He had noticed her growing up over the years, but had always kept his distance out of respect for Ray. His groin tightened at the sight of her. She was so much a woman and yet, in some ways, a little girl with the whole world at her fingertips to explore. “Get the hell out of here, Phoenix,” he said, pushing her away.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Phoenix huffed.

Tom lunged for Phoenix nearly toppling out of the bed. She hadn’t expected him to grab her and fell into him, tumbling over his torso. He trapped her head between his palms and planted his mouth to hers. Phoenix wasn’t a thing like her brother. Her kiss was shocked and uncertain, but in no means gentle or submissive. She took control, driving him with her tongue and the nip of her teeth on his lower lip. She pushed him harder, crushing his lips beneath hers and swabbing her tongue into the depths of his mouth. He felt the slight tingle of pleasure rise up from his stiffened groin and the sensation reassured him that indeed he did like girls. Certain to erase all doubts on that subject from his addled brain, he slid his hands under her t-shirt and cupped her breasts and waited to feel the tingle build to a desperate ache.

Tom’s fingers slipped under the stretchy material of her sports bra and thumbed the nub blossoming beneath his touch. She wished she hadn’t dressed in such a utilitarian style, in workout gear instead of something frilly and pretty. She didn’t own any clothes like that. Her mom had given up on turning her into a girlie girl at the age of five and all the pink dresses with the ribbons and bows had gone to some other girl who could actually appreciate them. Phoenix had always dressed rough and tumble, tomboyish and for function rather than prettiness or resembling something frilly that belonged on top a cake.

Tom tasted of whisky and desperation. Phoenix reeled beneath his touch. His fingers knew what they were doing even if he didn’t realize whom they were doing it to. With his eyes closed it might be easy for Tom to pretend that she was Cat. Kissing her so wildly desperate might deceive him into thinking she was her brother. But, Phoenix was not Cat and definitely not her brother and she would not be a substitute for whichever person Tom would rather be with. She wanted him…only him and nobody else would do until she was absolutely certain the window of opportunity was closed and staying that way.

As heartbreaking as it was, kissing him and enjoying it, she could feel the window slamming shut on her fingers. Taking advantage of him was a tempting proposition, but one she could not live with herself if she let this rage, revenge, proof of his manhood kiss, or whatever it was, continue. Phoenix could feel her heart hardening against Tom to the point where it barely managed to beat. She twisted her chin, breaking the kiss. Lazily, he grinned at her and walked his fingers over her collarbone. “I’m not gay,” he drawled, licking his lips to savor the taste of her on the tip of his tongue.

Phoenix rose to her feet and glowered down at Tom. What had she ever seen in him? She wiped the taste of him off her lips with the back of her hand. “No, you’re pathetic. Did you ever stop to think it was possible to love someone for who they are rather than what they are? You don’t deserve me, you shit and you sure as hell don’t deserve someone as good as my brother. Go and take a shower, sober yourself up before you embarrass yourself further.”