Darkest Before Dawn

Danielle looked up at her husband. She hated it when he tried to keep things from her. It was nothing more than an exercise in futility. She always found out anyway. "What thing?"

"Nothing, Dear." He'd tell her when they got back. Wouldn't do much good to hide it from her. The woman had sonic ears or something. Maybe, it was just a healthy dose of women's intuition. Hell, he didn't know. But, she always, always found out anything she wanted to know long before he broke down and told her.

"Sure thing." Patrick said, watching Robert drag his curious wife out the door. Cute couple, he thought to himself. Somehow, he doubted the rogues were interested in Robert and Danielle's cuteness. He valued their privacy. But, valued their lives a whole hell of a lot more and took a minute to snoop around the house for a clue of what had drawn the rogue's attention to them. After a quick look around and coming up, as usual, empty handed, he called the Shaman to get new wards placed around the house. The wards were specific and once they were placed, not even he or his brothers could enter, unless invited in.

Chapter 28

Janine yawned and stretched, wincing against the morning light streaming in through the curtains. She heard Leigh banging around in the kitchen, making breakfast and, she sniffed in delight, coffee. Happily, she bounced out of bed, determined to make her way to the coffee pot before the last of it was gone. "Morning Alex, Leigh."

Alex glanced up from the fragile scroll she was struggling to translate. "Hi." Probably wasn't the best of places to be working with a priceless artifact. But, coffee knew no caution. This was the closest she'd seen Janine to her old self in a long time. The woman practically buzzed with happiness and exuberance. There was only one thing that could have caused this abrupt change. Patrick.

She blew a breath out as she listened to her best friend hum an off -key tune while mixing milk and sugar into her coffee with a fingertip. "Ah," Alex paused, unsure of how to phrase the question. Something was definitely up between Janine and Patrick; her friend was never in this good of a mood in the mornings.

"Patrick stopped by last night." Janine grinned at just saying his name. She was never one to hold anything back when it came to her personal life, or anyone else's, for that matter. Giggling at Alex's raised brows, so ginger in color they blended in with her peachy complexion. "Don't worry. Nothing happened." It wasn't like she was going to bang Patrick on the living room sofa. The old furniture probably wouldn't take the stress. "But, we did... well you know." Shrugging, she plopped down on the kitchen chair and took her first sip of coffee for the day.

Alex released the breath she'd been holding. When it came to Janine and her "adventures" nothing was off limits. The last thing her parents needed to hear was that Janine and Patrick had done the nasty on their living room couch. She scraped a hand through her auburn curls and ignored the tickling of the ends against the base of her neck. Her hair was beginning to grow out. She missed her long hair. But, wasn't sure if she was going to let it grow or cut it off. "Lucien will be so relieved. He's been so worried about him."

"Well, hopefully, he will pop by for dinner again soon. Tell Lucien not to worry. When Patrick dines at Chez Janine. He's dining in first class." Quickly draining her fist cup of the day, she got up to pour a second, adding extra sugar to give her a buzz. Grinning, she leaned against the sink. Oblivious to the annoyed glance Leigh shot at her and to the fact that she was in the way. "Did you know my ancestors were French?" She took a deep gulp from her mug, delighted in the sweetness rolling over her tongue. "Maybe that's why I'm such a good kisser."

Leigh snorted at Janine's off the cuff comment and flicked dish suds off her fingernails at Janine to shoo the girl out of the way. It was good to have Janine back to her normal self, or abnormal self, whichever the case was. She hurried through the dishes, eager to be out of earshot of the girls' conversation. Anymore comments about French kissing or Patrick's buns and she'd ram her knitting needles right though her eardrums.

Alex sighed and tucked the scroll safely away inside of a battered leather case. She knew Janine had a thing for Patrick. She just wasn't sure if Patrick had a thing for Janine. She hoped that her best friend didn't get her heart broken. She was all flash and talk on the outside. But, on the inside, Janine was fragile. "He's really been through a lot," she cautioned, patting Janine's hand. "Don't get too close to him."

"Oh, don't worry. I can handle him." Janine stared deeply into her coffee mug, watching the brown liquid. She hoped she was right and she could. She pushed the cloud of doubt from her mind, refusing to let it spoil her mood. Drowning her worry in a last gulp of coffee, she pushed away from the table. "I'd better go make myself look presentable for when he stops by."

******

Patrick watched as the Shaman worked his spell. He wondered what good chicken feathers, stones, and a few uttered prayers were against a vampire. But, the combination worked like a charm. In the end that 's all that really mattered.

He felt a sense of joy and happiness wash over him. "Janine." He scrubbed his hand across his jaw in annoyance. "Damn." He was linked to her. Hearing her thoughts whisper through his mind. Listening in where he wasn't invited and where he so didn't want to go. A woman's thoughts were so different than a man's, so intimate and private and way too complex for a simple guy's understanding.

One thing was for sure. He knew Janine a hell of a lot better than he did a day ago. Why she refused to show the world what she really had to offer was beyond him. Underneath all the fluff, layers of makeup, and designer labels beat the wings of an angel. She could change the world, if she wanted to. Anything she set her mind to doing was as good as done. He didn't know if she was truly as clueless to that fact as she let on or if she simply chose to exist in a world not of her making. She was so not a victim. He couldn't imagine her going with the flow. She'd certainly changed him, even if she didn't know it yet.

Chapter 29

"Miss Roberta Danielle Harris," the dean called her name over the microphone as she mounted the stairs. Graduation day had finally come. She was so excited and nervous. Chanting a little prayer in her head, she carefully made her way across the stage. Knock kneed from images of herself getting tangled up in the navy blue robe, tripping over an unseen electrical cord, or twisting her ankle on the frail stiletto heels that made her legs look like they went to her neck, but were totally impractical for actually walking. Grace was not one of her strong suits. She thought to herself, it is just a handshake, a cheesy smile, and a quick flash of a camera bulb. That's it. She would have skipped the ceremony altogether, if it hadn't been for her parent's insistence that she attend.

"Congratulations," the dean, a bald man, practically melting from the heat into a puddle in his three-piece suit, said. Taking her palm in his beefy, sweaty grip and giving it an obligatory pump up and down as sweat dribbled from his potato shaped head. With a pop, the flash bulb ignited, forever trapping the nefarious and damp handshake in film. Descending from the stairs with a sigh of relief, she clutched the diploma...her diploma...tightly in her fist.

Going through the graduation ceremony had been more nerve wracking than the whole four years of college combined. She sank onto the hard metal folding chair, hot and a little sweaty herself, beneath the gown, anxious for commencement to be over and done with and for her real life to begin.

Finally, the ceremony was over. Eagerly, she tore free from the gown and released her hair from the pins holding the cap in place. Careful not to lose the tassel, she searched the nameless faces in the crowd. A refreshing late spring breeze cooled her flushed skin. Drying the beads of sweat on the nape of her neck.

She fought her way through the masses of graduates and proud parents. People mulled about, hugging, crying, and chattering in clusters. Trying to find her folks, Robbie wound through the crowd, looking for their familiar faces. She tussled her crimson curls, messy from the graduation cap, allowing them to fall loosely around her shoulders. Shielding her eyes from the mid afternoon sun, she spotted them standing under the shade of an old oak. "Ah," she muttered, "there they are."

**********

Patrick leaned against the roughness of the wooden split rail fence. Watching in amazement as Janine rode. Crouched in the saddle, her fingers wrapped around the horse's black mane, handling the reins as if she knew what she was doing. Jack, the old bay stallion obligingly sped his pace to her eager urging. In a million years he wouldn't have expected to see Janine doing anything that might result in so much as a speck of dust on her designer jeans. She giggled, laughing as the borrowed cowboy hat flew off her head. Her blonde curls caught the light, bouncing with the horse's every hoof beat. Catching sight of him, she slowed Jack and navigated over to the fence. She clucked her tongue lightly at the horse and cooed in praise of his efforts.

"Hey Studly," Janine teased. The expression on Patrick's face was unreadable. He leaned casually with one foot propped up on the bottom rail of the fence and adjusted the sunglasses blocking her view of his eyes higher up on his nose. All that stuff about vampires burning to a crisp in the sunlight was bullshit. But, she could tell he was uncomfortable in the light. Almost as if he believed the legends, he fidgeted, drumming his fingertips on the fence.

Self-consciously, she dragged her fingers through her unruly blonde curls. She sweated lightly from the warmth of the day. The moisture on her skin made her feel sticky and a bit uncomfortable herself. He had an impeccable sense of smell and she had to wonder if to him she reeked. The beautiful day, a clear sky filled with fat, fluffy clouds and that old horse of Alex's lazily munching at blades of Kelly green grass in the pasture had been too much of a temptation to pass on. She hadn't ridden in years, since boarding school, and old Jack needed the exercise.

Patrick tilted his head and smiled up at Janine. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a contented grin on her lips. Moving slowly, careful not to spook the horse, he trotted across the paddock to retrieve the hat. Before he handed it to her, he pounded a coating of dust free against his thigh. The midday sun was a wicked bitch. Tinting the periphery of his vision with an array of color and flashing light. Miserable, watering his eyes, causing them to sting, he adjusted the dark lenses necessary for daylight tighter against his face. "I always took you for a city girl." Always the gentleman, he offered her his hand to help her off the horse.

She brushed the dust off her jeans as her legs adjusted to being on solid ground again. "Four years at boarding school," she answered proudly. Riding on Jack's back was more of a workout than she was used to. Already, her thigh and lower back muscles were beginning to tighten. Clucking her tongue at the horse, she gathered up the reins to lead him into the barn for a well deserved grooming. Very aware of Patrick's curious stare, she pulled the pink cowgirl hat low over her eyes as he fell in step beside her.

Patrick walked beside Janine as led Jack back to the stables. There was very little that could have dragged him out of the cool, dark comforts of the lodge in broad daylight. But, he'd been lying awake, wondering. Replaying it over and over in his mind. Janine had meant to comfort him, willingly offered to feed him, and maybe even tried to seduce him. And as hard as he'd tried not to, resisting any intention she might have had, he'd lost it. He was ashamed and embarrassed at the way he'd gnawed at her like a starving animal. "Last night, I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked hesitantly.

Janine's fingers brushed the spot at the bend of her elbow where Patrick had bitten her. The skin was healed. Not even so much of a bruise to remind her of it. In the dim light of the barn, he'd removed his sunglasses and was studying her face. Hurt her? At first, the sharp jab of his fangs through her skin, deep into the soft flesh of her arm had hurt. But, after the initial shock wore off, nothing had ever felt more right. Feeding him, being held in his arms, protected and safe, no...hurt wasn't the word that came to mind.

Waking up dazed and very alone this morning, although she'd expected it, made her a bit tender in spots. Primarily, that spot in her chest where her heat beat was especially tender. Her arm wasn't bruised, but her ego...wasn't that another story. It wasn't the first time she'd committed an intimate act to wake up with the other side of the bed cold and empty. At least Patrick hadn't pretended and led her on. She was food and nothing more. She forced a wide smile she didn't feel onto her face and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "Of course not. I'm sturdier than you think."

Janine tied the reins to the post pretending to be busily tending to Jack. She resisted the urge to drag Patrick off into the nearest pile of straw and show him exactly how he made her feel. Baby steps, she reminded herself. Patrick could barely handle the intimacy of feeding from her, let alone getting naked and sweaty in desperate passion. But, it didn't keep her from wishing or wanting. With deft fingers she unbuckled the saddle, letting loose an "oof" as its weight slid off Jack's back into her arms.

"Here let me," Patrick said. The heavy western style saddle probably weighed as much as she did. With all the silver buckles and accouterments, maybe more. He took the saddle from her arms, trying to ignore the way the casual brush of her skin against his sent a prickling wave of sensation along his arms. He was attracted to her. And didn't that open a door he didn't want to go through. As much as he wanted to deny it, pretend the flare of chemistry wasn't there. She wanted him in turn.

Janine blushed. Feeling the heat caused by just a brush of flesh spread its way up her arm. More self-aware than ever, she fumbled with the stiff bristled brush. Patting the bay as she slid it along his soft, musky scented coat. The horse nervously whinnied and stomped his hoof down into the soft dirt of the stall. "Easy, Boy." Jack's muscles rippled beneath her fingertips in nervous tension. She worked the bristles over his long neck till he stilled, easing out a huff of hot breath. "I don't think he likes you."

Patrick positioned the saddle on a nearby sawhorse and walked around Jack's head to stand beside Janine. Animals could always sense the predator that lurked deep within his soul. He wished that she could. "He's a good judge of character."

"He just doesn't know you, that's all," she mumbled. She certainly didn't know him, at all. He was a master at hiding who he really was from the world. He showed bits and pieces, but never the whole package. Sometimes, she thought she saw through his defenses into the real him. The way he smiled when he thought nobody was looking. The way his brow would crinkle in concentration when he was in deep thought. His fierceness and loyalty to those he cared about. And, the way he loved his brothers. She knew all of that. He could be cold and aloof. Sometimes, he froze her to death. There was heat to him. Warmth and so much love, if only he'd be real enough with himself to own up to it instead of hiding. Since he'd come back from his capture by the Rogues, he'd been more walled off and inaccessible than ever. And instead of turning her off, it made her even more determined to breakthrough.

"And you do?" Patrick lifted a brow at Janine. She didn't know him. Oh, she knew the basics. What he was. But, not who he was or what he was capable of. She knew what he'd done. But, she didn't KNOW. She didn't know the bliss of the hunt and the rapture of the kill. Nor did she know of the guilt, that no matter how many times his brothers absolved him, that would always be there inside of him.

"I think so. Here." She took Patrick's hand and pressed it against Jack's neck. The contact of his hand as it rested against her palm sent more electricity zinging along her arm. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, relishing the feel of his skin against hers. She guided his hand along the softness of the sleek reddish-brown coat with long firm strokes, down along the animal's neck, circling his chest, and then back up his to behind his ears. The horse neighed contentedly through a mouthful of oats. "See. He just needed time to get to know you."

Patrick inched closer and wrapped an arm around the curve of Janine's narrow waist. Holding her tightly against him. Letting her guide his hand down the powerful animal's sleek coat. Her hand was tiny on top of his, soft and fragile. Warmth blazed from her fingertips, searing him where they touched his skin. Jack loosed a contented horse sigh and flicked an ear to scare away a fly. Jack was warm, soft, and so alive beneath his hand. And Janine was even more alive, warm, living, breathing, and so trusting, against the hard jut of his hip.

He'd been just a boy when it happened. Tucked away in safe keeping by strangers paid by his uncle's massive bank accounts to care for him. They'd provided dutifully for his care. But, there'd been no touching, no holding, and no softness or kindness from any of them. Especially, not from his icy uncle, who saw him more as a duty than an adopted son.

He could kill Janine and the horse in the blink of an eye. They had nothing to gain by letting him touch and feel, soak in their warmth like a sponge. Jack might not realize. But, Janine did. She knew what he'd done. Yet, she curled her body around his. Holding her breath, eyes closed as she guided his hand along the horse's soft fur. Her trust in him was a precious gift. One he hadn't earned. But, like her warmth, she gave freely and openly.

Patrick nuzzled the bend of Janine's neck, so warm and soft beneath his lips, fragrant as a summer blossom. Not because he was hungry. Soaking up her scent and warmth. Longing for all the touches, all of the warmth he'd been denied for so long. Her nearness calmed his demons, silencing them. He didn't resist at the pull of his hand away from the horse. With trembling fingers, she wrapped his arm around her waist. He ran his lips along her creamy tender skin feeling her heat sizzle through him.

Patrick felt her tense up against him. Immediately, he released her from his embrace. He smelled Jeanine's fear and sensed her hesitancy. "You're afraid," he said backing away from her. "I wasn't going to bite you. I'd never hurt you." He crossed his arms defensively across his chest. So much for trust, fragile as a silken thread, he'd broken it.

"I'm not afraid of your bite," Janine whispered. She was terrified that he'd push her away. Once those walls tumbled down. And they'd been close, so close. He'd scrabble to rebuild them and shut her out again.

"But, you're afraid that I would hurt you." Patrick stepped forward, pinning her between his body and the hitching post. Her heart rate zinged at a rapid pace in his ears and her breathing was shallow and fast as if she'd been running. She should be running, away from him.

Janine fought back the tears. Patrick simply didn't understand. She slid the bridle over Jack's ears and eased the bit out of his mouth, hanging the straps of leather on a nail. "Not the same kind of hurt." Her hands trembled despite her attempts to still them.