After Dawn, What Came Next

Her fate had been sealed the minute Eric collided into her life. Carter had never liked dogs. And if he had ever needed a reason for that Megan was the reason. If it hadn’t been for that fucking toy poodle that couldn’t hold it till dawn, Megan would have had her normal human life the way she was supposed to. Eric had taken her human life away from her and she in return had ended his immortal one. Justice, cold and bitter justice, he supposed that she, when so many had tried for centuries, had been the one to end him.

Carter couldn’t imagine Megan with the two kids and white picket fence American dream. He couldn’t imagine her working a mundane job day after day and racing home to make pot roast for the hubby and the kiddies night after night. Whatever her fate was supposed to be it wasn’t what it might have been if Eric had simply passed her by.

Carter had little experience with human funerals. He knew a lot about loss, but nothing about mortality. Sometimes he stared at himself in the mirror for hours, cursing the masculine beauty that had drawn Eric’s attention and wondering what he might have looked like if he had been allowed to grow old and live the dreams he had once held in such high regard. He wouldn’t have grown old had he been left mortal. Something would have cut his life short, disease, war, starvation, or the backbreaking work of living day after day. Still, it would have been a life worth living. The shallow replacement of a life he had been given instead. Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered living one more day of it.

He hadn’t spoken his ancient tongue in so long, he could barely recall the words. His language was dead. His family was dead. Any hopes he had had for his life. Though the people he had once lived for were not dead. His dreams had died. Megan, watching her blossom into a woman or maybe, just having someone to care for, had been a healing balm for the pain of losing Shayla and little R.J. and the dreams of what might have been. As always, and didn’t it seem like a repeating pattern? He had failed the ones he loved the most. This was the second time he had failed Shayla. She trusted him with her daughter and look what he had done with that trust.

He wondered what would come of the truths he had told R.J. Would the boy confront his mother? What version of their sordid tale would she tell her son? What would Tracker tell the boy if he asked? Coming clean, confessing his past to the one person he had needed to tell it to had brought him some measure of peace. But, he wondered what would it do to the boy? At first R.J. hadn’t wanted to believe him. Then R.J.’s reluctance had faded into a bitter acceptance and then had grown into something Carter wanted to think was understanding and maybe even, pride.

It was imperative that he got Phoenix back. The girl didn’t know of her past. She wasn’t his child. No, some things were physically impossible. But, Carter thought she ought to know what part he had played in her past. Without him, in some way, she wouldn’t be here. He had practically shoved Shayla into Tracker’s arms. In so many ways the pregnancy had sealed the deal. He might have recanted on his generous offer to Tracker, if not for the unborn child, Tracker’s child, growing in Shayla’s womb.

Phoenix had her mother’s beauty and in no small measure, her stubbornness and iron clad will. She had gifts from her father, his fierce unwillingness to meet defeat and a wily mind capable of bending the universe to its will.

Maybe, there was something of him in her too. What traits did he possess that he would want to pass on to a child? Certainly not his tendency to brood or to dwell on things he could not and would not change even if he could. He had walked this earth for more than five hundred years. Yet, he was not a wise man. But, he did have something that would serve Phoenix well. He was a survivor. If a man could survive his own life, he could accomplish anything.

Megan pulled out the stylus she had conveniently stashed in her chignon and tapped on the tablet in her grip. The brothers were assembling and would be here within the next couple of hours. Knowing them, it would probably be sooner. She rattled off the preparations she had made, the patrol routes, and anything else she thought might be critical for Carter to know. She kept Carter on top of his game. Without her HQ would fall into ruin or at the very minimum, chaos.

She admired Carter. He was generally a stoic, distant son of a bitch, but she had seen his softer side peek out a time or two. He wasn’t showing it now though. His face was an impenetrable mask of cold determination. His shoulders set and body posture rigid. She knew without asking that he suspected the same as she. This wasn’t some random abduction. This was an inside job. Carter didn’t typically get nasty. She had never seen him lose his temper, really lose his temper, before. But, she had the feeling when he caught whoever had done this and insulted the Guardians in the process. The gates of hell were going to open up and the carefully contained fire and brimstone that was Carter’s nastier side was going to rain down.

Carter thanked Megan and lifted his hand to dismiss her. He stopped instead, gripping her arm in a gentle hold. “Megan, I truly am sorry about your mother.”

Megan blinked and stared up at the beautiful man that had become the only family she truly had left. Out of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth. The funeral spray he had sent was beautiful. Dozens and dozens of pink tea roses and fragile sprigs of baby’s breath had adorned her mother’s coffin. He hadn’t included a note, as if he didn’t want her to know he had been the one to send them. He didn’t have to. She knew. “Thank you, Carter.”

The moment passed as quickly as it had come. Carter’s game face was back on. She knew bits and pieces about his past. More than most, she supposed. She understood how important Phoenix was to him. How when he had needed someone to care for in Shayla’s place, Megan had filled the void in his life. Carter was an honorable man, a self-condemning one, but honorable nevertheless. He had stepped aside and let Tracker have it all. It had cost Carter greatly to do such a thing. There were some losses that did not fade with time. Phoenix was a part of Shayla and therefore, one of the most important people in Carter’s life. “We’ll get her back and we’ll handle whoever took her.”

Carter nodded. He had every intention of doing whatever it took to get Phoenix and Danni back and he would deal with whoever had taken them. There were some points he agreed with the brotherhood on. Few, but some and their version of justice was one of those points. Swift, permanent, and deadly justice delivered on the razor’s edge of a blade was the only outcome he could possibly conceive. He didn’t relish killing, but he would revel in this death. “I know we will, on both counts.”









































Chapter 69

Fallon was awake. She had been awake for hours, tossing and turning, staring up at the ceiling. Her lips moved to form words, but really what was there to say? Sleep was impossible with Daniel in the room two doors down the hallway from hers. There were winners and losers in any war. How was it possible she could be both? Beside her Catcher was rigid as a board. Stretched out on his back with his hands crossed over his stomach, he stared at the ceiling too. She could feel the warmth of his body against her skin and the tension in his muscles vibrating through his body. He had lost plenty too in winning. Odd, they had both lost the same thing. Daniel.

How could she be so stupid? Daniel was her first love and Catcher’s only real friend. What the three of them had done. This game they had played had torn the three of them apart. She could not occupy this bed one second longer. Not because Daniel was right down the hall, but because it was simply too hard to stare into the darkness with nothing but her thoughts. She moved to toss the covers back and slide out of bed when Catcher grabbed her wrist. “Fallon, it isn’t your fault.”

Fallon resisted the urge to tear her wrist free from Catcher’s grip. Wasn’t her fault? Of course it was her fault. How could he think differently? She had wanted to heal him with her body. Instead, she had hurt him deeply. She should have thought beyond the moment. She had simply wanted and she had given into her wants and this…the silence between them and the sleepless night, probably the first of many, was on her. Males had their pride. Catcher and Daniel were both headstrong and prideful and neither one of them would let this insult go. They needed to talk about it, but she couldn’t. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Daylight was beginning to seep through the gaps in the curtains. Soon, there’d be no hiding in the dark. Hiding in the shower instead seemed like a perfectly suitable option to her. She could shampoo, rinse and repeat, and loofa like her life depended on it for hours. Fallon wanted to reassure Catcher that the fault was on her, not him. She could see nothing but the vague outline of him in the darkness. Catcher was a man that was constantly evaluating. He was no doubt assessing her now.

His grip on her wrist loosened. He wanted to give her exactly what she needed or what he thought she needed. Space was good. She had known of him her entire life, but never knew him until last night. Her heart was soft and pliable. Having such depth of feeling for him so soon after carrying the torch for Daniel for so very long was unexpected. She had always been speculative about the mythical bonding Nash’s pack believed in. How the meeting of flesh could result in a melding of souls. Sex was a biological function, but there was something more to it than one hell of a good time. She wished she had considered that before jumping into bed with Catcher.

Who was she kidding? He was ready for the marriage, the wife, the kids, and the whole picket fence thing. She was too and she could end up a lot worse off than Catcher. She just, not that Daniel had given her any options, wasn’t ready to admit to herself that her daydreams of the perfect life she was going to have with him were really over. Catcher was reality and he was in the bed with her offering her everything her heart desired. Daniel was the past, but damn it hurt letting him go.

The heart she had thought only had room for Daniel had plenty of space for Catcher. It hurt to admit that she was still in love with Daniel, Painful as it was she had fallen hard for Catcher. The question of it was could the three of them live under the same roof? How was she supposed to build a life with Catcher? Go into this bedroom night after night, shut the door, and climb under the covers with him when Daniel was sleeping two doors down?

She had slept with both men. She loved them in different ways, but she loved them both. Perhaps, Daniel had sex with her for the same reason she had climbed between the sheets with Catcher. She had needed one night with Daniel and he had given it to her to set her free. Catcher too had needed a release from the bonds of his past. She had released him with her body and in the process captured his heart.

It boggled the mind. This nature versus nurture, natural selection versus survival of the fittest battle going on in her head. It made sense her body would choose the strongest male for a mate. Sex, the need to procreate with the strongest of her kind, was programmed into her DNA. Her heart…she refused to believe that her heart was nothing more than a victim of her body’s urgings. Her body was wired differently than her mind, but on some primal level all the circuits were connected somewhere deep inside of her.

Love without sex was possible. After all, she had been in love with Daniel long before they slept together. Sex without love was possible too. She had always envied those free spirits who could share their bodies so openly with anyone of their choosing. She had never had that kind of confidence. In college she had listened to the sexapades of the single, free of body and brave of heart. All the while wishing she were one of them, but knowing when the time came for her it would be a one shot deal. She wondered what had happened to those adventurous souls. Had they fallen in love? Had they gotten married? Did they finally find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow they had been searching for? Did they have it all?

Unable to get her feet moving, she sat on the edge of the bed. Catcher was picking up on her mood. Of course, he would. He could probably scent the oncoming thunderstorm of her emotions. He rubbed the small of her back with the heel of his hand. The heat of his palm and the small circular motions, light and slow, did ease her some. She sighed and forced a smile. The thing to do would be to climb underneath the covers and shelter her wounded heart and battered emotions in Catcher’s warm embrace. Let him do what he did best and protect her even if it was herself he was protecting her from.

Fallon sat on the edge of the bed with her head bent forward and eyes fixed on the floor. Women were so complex and yet at the same time so simple. She didn’t know what she needed only that she needed something. As her male, it was his job to give her what she needed. Sometimes a woman needed space and sometimes, closeness. If Fallon had retreated to the shower like she had said she was going to. He would have given her space. That she hadn’t moved told him that she needed closeness.

Catcher kept his touch, the light brush of his palm across the small of her back, light and non-intrusive. She had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. He should thank Daniel for being the selfish prick Catcher knew the man sometimes was. Daniel had taken plenty from Fallon. Nothing she didn’t freely give. Nothing she hadn’t wanted or taken from him in return. On both parts, the giving and the taking had set her free and broken something so fragile inside of her. It was in Catcher’s nature to try to fix her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t rebuild a little girl’s broken dreams, but he could give the woman Fallon had become new ones to take their place.

He spooned her hips, curling around her body and wrapping his arms lightly around her waist. He rested his cheek on her thigh and reflexively, her fingers moved to run through his hair. Her muscles relaxed and her body gravitated to the warmth of his. This wasn’t a Dear Abbey moment. Fallon didn’t ask his advice or need it. He wisely kept his lip zipped. A woman’s mind went a million miles an hour, sifting and categorizing her thoughts into tidy pieces of information. Knowing Fallon she was probably thinking about Daniel, him, some article she had read in high school, the new sweater she bought on clearance last month, reviewing her to do list for the day, and which brand of body wash smelled the best, all at the same time.

Men weren’t nearly so complex. For the most part they had one track minds and their thoughts were simple. It made life more enjoyable not having to worry about all the details. Men didn’t care what they ate as long as they ate. Men didn’t care where they slept as long as they had a bed. They didn’t care what they wore as long as they had clothes on their backs. As for whom they loved, the love of one woman was more than enough to satisfy. Catcher supposed someone in a partnership of male and female had to do the thinking. He was glad the thinking was left up to the female. There was no way in hell he’d ever want to be in the hailstorm of thoughts thundering through a woman’s mind.

He did mind sharing Fallon, even if it was just her thoughts, with Daniel. He was territorial by nature. But, he knew not to push it. He was here with Fallon and Daniel…wasn’t. Daniel didn’t know what he had given up in letting her go. She was raw and hurting from the wound left behind from where Daniel had torn himself out of her heart. Fallon was a practical woman and sooner or later she would come to realize it was for the best, but sometimes the truth hurt.

Daniel stared up at that dark bedroom window for hours. He fiddled with the keys in his hands and in the end couldn’t convince himself that leaving was the right thing to do. The pack expected it of him and far be it from him to disappoint, but he could not force his feet to move. He was glad Fallon was safe. Catcher would keep her that way. Daniel didn’t want to think about what might be going on inside of that bedroom. The image his mind too readily supplied had him growling low under his breath. As if he had any claim to Fallon. He had given up that right. As a man, he knew the bonds of male friendship only went so far. When it came down to a woman. All bets were off.

He flipped the bedroom window and the people behind that closed curtain the bird. Fuck them both, to hell with them and the whole goddamn world. It was a good thing the pack had such low expectations of him. Especially since he had yet to fail to live up to his reputation.

He was one stupid, stupid son of a bitch, always thinking with his cock and never his brain. He should have never, ever broken his twenty-seven year dry spell with Fallon. Never! It was just that… it was the way she had looked at him had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Valued. Clean. Whole. She had looked at him like he was a man of worth. As if his past and all the mistakes he had made in it didn’t matter. He had spent the past two decades stripped down to nothing. He hadn’t dreamed. He hadn’t had one shred of hope for his future. He had existed. Lived one day to the next without feeling anything but numbness. And wasn’t that the damned thing about her…about that night he had spent in her bed? In those fragile hours of bliss she had brought him back to life at least, temporarily.

She deserved better than him. He couldn’t change who he was and the man he had evolved into was a real piece of work. Fucked up. Damaged. Unreliable. Destructive. He cared about nothing and nobody more than he cared for himself. She saw those things in him, but a part of her still hadn’t wanted to believe they were true. He had sacrificed to save her from the worst parts of himself. She was one thing he didn’t want to destroy and in the end he had still done it anyway.

A better man would have walked away instead of taking what she had offered him. A better man would have kept his cock in his pants. Daniel was no such man. He should turn and walk away right now, but he couldn’t. It was an exercise in self-deception that kept his feet planted in the spot. The truth was he did love her. He just loved himself a little more and how much of a bastard did that make him? She had been fine and would continue to be fine without him. As for him, he had never been fine and never would be. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. If he couldn’t be honest with himself, he had at least been honest with her. The lie would have ended up with him in her bed again instead of being down here alone staring up at her window and wanting things he had no right to want.

Wasn’t that the story of his life? He had always wanted what he couldn’t have. Plenty had never been enough. He had never known a peaceful moment of contentment. His grandpa used to tell him he had come out of the womb screaming and had been screaming ever since. He wore people out and wore them down. He fought everything and everyone and why? Daniel honestly didn’t know. There had always been something missing deep down inside of him. Not even with Yessette had he been able to fill the void. Maybe, he had simply been born under an unlucky star. And wasn’t that the damned thing about life? Everyone was born with a purpose, but at almost fifty he had yet to find his.