Dawn Awakening

Robbie was willing to fight to the death to free John Mark. She glanced at him and saw the pleading look in his eyes, begging her to stop whatever it was she planned to do. His restraints held him fast, tightly bound and completely at DuPage's mercy. Not a good place to be. Trying to fight DuPage wouldn't help either one of them. If anything, her struggles would probably excite him to the point where he lost control and went on a rampage of blood and death. She needed to do something to buy time. What if she didn't fight, but played along? Pretended. What if she made the game a little less fun for him?

DuPage ran a finger along a trail of blood seeping from a cut on the girl's cheek. He brought the finger to his lips and sucked the blood off the tip. "So new and fresh. I can still taste your humanity, " he whispered in the girl's ear. Her instinctive recoil away from him stirred his desire. She had no idea how fun she was making this for him. He ran steely gray eyes down her frame sizing her up. She was a little thing, tiny and delicate like a doll. And like most tiny, delicate things, fragile and too easily broken. Bringing his hand to her hair, he ran his fingers through the strands and lifted them to his nose. "Shame to waste such beauty. Too bad we don't have more time for other things."

Seizing the opportunity to inflict a little damage, Robbie bit down tearing holes through his wrist. He drew back in anger, slapping her with a massive hand and knocking her to the ground. "Bitch," he ground out, pressing on the wounds with his fingers. Time or not, he was going to make her pay for hurting him.

John Mark was utterly helpless. Bound by the thick lengths of chain with his hands pinned behind his back and forced into a fetal position with his knees and ankles restrained under his chin. He couldn't believe two, just two thugs had gotten the jump on him so easily. Lucien would be so disappointed in him. The rogues should be dead and he should be rescuing Robbie. Instead he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. He should have never have taken her so deeply into the woods. It had been so long since the rogues had left a trace of scent, he thought the worst of the danger had passed. He didn't think...well, he just didn't think. It was a mistake he'd never make again. Enraged, he growled low in his throat and struggled against the chains.

"Finish this!" a voice cried out from the darkness of the woods. Footsteps, light and hurried, darted from under the cover of brush. Robbie stared up at the woman from her huddled position on the ground. If she had to choose between DuPage and the woman, a vampire, whose power prickled along her skin, she was firmly on team DuPage. Incredibly beautiful, almost to the point it hurt to look at her, the woman emerged from the shelter of the pines.

Dressed in black with equally sable hair, thick and long like a silken curtain, draping past her waist: deep, brown Mediterranean coloring, and a dainty figure that made Robbie look like an Amazon by comparison. She was beauty, lethal beauty, personified. And she looked at her with murder in her perfectly shaped, mahogany shaded eyes. "This is what my brother died for... this thing?"

Robbie whaled out in agony as several of her ribs splintered under the blow of one petite booted foot that had came at her so fast, she hadn't seen it coming. Biting her lip, she stifled her cries and clamored to her feet, cradling her damaged ribs. DuPage knocked her back to the ground with the back of his hand, sending her head reeling and her teeth chattering from the impact. "Mistress Kore," he said, dropping to one knee, posturing before the woman.

"Finish this up," Kore ordered through her lush, full, ruby painted lips. "There's more work to be done. I want possession of this territory by dawn." Robbie gasped as realization struck her. She turned her head and hazarded a wide-eyed glance at John Mark. The Sons were in danger. They had to do...something to warn them. But, in their current predicament...they weren't in any shape to help themselves, let alone help the brothers.

DuPage lifted his eyes as Kore turned her back, spinning on her heel to storm impatiently into the woods. Grinning, he pulled a blade free from his belt. Its razor sharp edge reflected silvery slivers moonlight. Mistress expected results. But, that didn't mean he didn't have time for a bit of fun. "Such a shame, I guess our love wasn't meant to be." Eagerly his fingers gripped the hilt of the blade and he took his time, stalking closer, grinning as her eyes widened in terror and she scrambled on the ground to get away.

John Mark writhed in the chains. If he got his hands on DuPage, he'd kill him for just thinking about hurting Robbie. The bastard had the nerve to turn and look over his shoulder and wink at him before he turned his attention back to Robbie. She was defenseless. He should have taught her how to fight, how to use a blade, how to keep herself alive in the event that he couldn't. There was no help coming. Robbie and he were on their own. And they, along with the brothers were about to be thrown head first into some very serious shit.

Kore was planning an attack on the brothers. John Mark had no way of knowing how many rallied to her cause. Chained and helpless, watching DuPage stalk Robbie, there was nothing he could do. No way to help her or himself. But, maybe he could warn the brothers. Get word to them in time before more died.

His mind was a snarl of panicked thoughts. He had to clear his brain of all the unwanted chatter and focus. Concentrate on the mystic link that tied him to his brothers. Robbie's stifled whimpers didn't help matters any. Every instinct in his body roared with the need to protect her. He had to let it go. He had to go to the still place inside of him, beyond where his hunter stalked like a caged lion, lunging at the bars to be freed, deeper to the place of peace where the goddess lived. In his mind's eye, John Mark imagined the invisible strands that bound the brothers as one and grabbed on to them. He had to try. And he prayed, harder than he'd ever prayed in his life that he wasn't too late.



Chapter 43

Lucien stood at the sink, rinsing out his wife's mug. All day, his only day off naturally, she'd been hell on wheels. Alex paced nervously in the boxy confines of the living room, paused to peek out from behind the curtains, grumbled in agitation, and paced some more. Lucien did the only thing a guy could do. Keep the hell out of her line of fire and her mug filled to the brim with herbal tea. Maybe, it was PMS or something. But, when she was like this, with all the pacing and anxiety, it usually was a sign that something was about to go down, something not so good. She had had a sixth sense about these kinds of things that was uncanny. God, he hoped not. All he wanted was one peaceful day with his wife, without the world interfering.

Being the wife of a leader wasn't easy for her. Especially now, when their world was threatened by the rogues. He spent more time training the men and out on patrols than he did with her. Newlyweds weren't supposed to go through this kind of shit. They should be fucking like bunnies and cuddling under the covers. She knew that when she signed on. But, he didn't fault her or her worry. The last few days had been quiet, like the calm before the storm everyone knew was coming.

Her mug thoroughly washed and dried, Lucien admired his handiwork and stuffed the god awful herbal mixture into the steeper. Doc claimed his tea could cure anything. But, would it give him a few moments of hard earned peace with his wife? He dropped the steeper into the empty mug where it landed with a tinny sounding metallic clank against the porcelain. The teakettle whistled merrily on the stove. Reaching out, he grabbed the kettle and lifted the mug. The vision hit him hard, bowling him over with all the finesse of a freight train. John Mark! Danger! Fumbling blindly with his hands, the kettle spilled, dumping boiling water all over the countertop. The mug, gripped so tightly in his fist, shattered in his hand.

Alex had been on edge for the last few days, irritable and agitated by the most minor of things. She tried not to let it show. Lucien got so little time off to rest and simply be a husband. This time was important for him...for them. But, with each passing day, the feeling of dread had gotten worse and worse, until today, when it bypassed worse and went to unbearable. She tried to be still and not let her worry spoil the day. To be the supportive, uplifting wife Lucien needed her to be and failed, miserably. She could not shake off the foreboding sensation that something bad was coming their way.

The clattering of the teakettle across the countertop and Lucien's subsequent curse had her snapping her head up from the magazine she'd been idly thumbing through. He was trembling and deathly pale. Blood dripped from his fist, still clenched tightly around her shattered mug. "Luc, are you ok?" He lifted his gaze to meet hers and the terror she saw in his eyes had her heart skipping a beat and the magazine in her lap, forgotten on the floor as she leapt to her feet. "No," she whispered.

********

Janine rested her chin on the palm of her hand and flicked through page after page of Internet shopping sites. Her virtual basket was full of designer labels, too bad she didn't have a dime to her name to buy them. To her, shopping without any money, especially online where she couldn't even try the clothes on or run her hands along the expensive fabrics was about as satisfying as masturbation. A shallow substitution, got the job done, temporarily, but not nearly as good as the real thing. Yeah, these days, she was somewhat of an expert on both.

She yawned and glanced down at the clock on the computer screen. It was a little after midnight. Patrick was off somewhere doing whatever vampires did after dark. Probably scaring the shit out of little kids and stalking virgins for a late night snack. She knew better though, Patrick was exclusive. Where her veins were concerned, anyway. He was a one-woman kind of man. Oh well, at least one part of her anatomy got a vigorous workout once or twice a week.

There was a clatter in the living room. Probably Alex's dad wrangling the beat up recliner to do what it was supposed to do and actually recline. Janine didn't know why the Old Man wouldn't part with some of the family fortune and buy a new one. He had a philosophy that if she adopted, she wouldn't be so broke all of the time. If she looked up cheap skate in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of him right beside the definition.

Leigh had shuffled off to bed hours ago. Her hair in rollers...check. The ugliest, oldest, cotton print nightgown money could buy...check. And a battered romance novel tucked under her arm...check. Ah, Janine thought, rolling her eyes in dismay, the geriatric salad days. At least, as long as Patrick was in her life, she wouldn't have to worry about settling down to any type of boring, dull, happy coupledom anytime soon.

Her bedroom door, or rather the guest room she'd taken up residence in, burst open. Patrick without as much as an explanation plucked her out of her chair and tossed her over his shoulder. "What are you doing? Put me down you oaf!" Janine sputtered in shock, trying hard not to puke at her upside down view of the bedroom's shabby carpet. She kicked her feet and pounded on his backside with her fists as he carted her down the hallway and through the living room.

There was no time to deal with Janine. Patrick knew he'd have a fight on his hands if he tried to explain what was going on. Sometimes the simplest approach was the easiest and the fastest. And there wasn't time for anything else. He herded a bleary-eyed Alexander and a bewildered Leigh to the idling SUV as he carted Janine over his shoulder. He was supposed to be tracking the rogues, be out in the woods doing his job. But, the first place he'd gone was here. Some would accuse him of not having his priorities in order. But, to him, there were right where they should be, focused on Janine and keeping her safe.

Janine buckled her seatbelt and scowled indignantly at the back of Patrick's head. Leigh sat beside her, whispering words of calm and encouragement. Janine didn't want to hear them. Despite the warmth of the heater blasting her with hot air and the soft, fleece blanket Alexander had tucked around her shoulders, she was shivering, but not from the cold. Patrick drove like a bat out of hell. The SUV bounced and shimmied up a narrow cow path of a road, grinding to a stop at a dark mouth of rock.

She knew if there was trouble, if the lodge was compromised, this was where she was supposed to go. The old mine tunnels were the Son's last resort. Patrick had driven straight here, not bothering with the lodge or any other pit stops along the way. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart racing. Things were so far beyond trouble, if he'd taken her here.

Patrick hurried Janine along the darkened path to the entrance of the tunnels. Alex and a few others were already inside, making preparations for the long wait till the battle was over. Janine stared up at him worriedly, her eyelashes batting back the tears that collected in the corner of her eyes. As far as he was concerned, she had nothing to worry about. He hadn't gone though all the bullshit he'd gone through to get killed now. Not when he finally had something worth living for. He stopped at the mouth of the mines and pulled Janine into his arms. Time be damned, there was always time for one last kiss before he left her side.

Janine threw her arms around Patrick's neck and held on for dear life. She covered his face with kisses and buried her nose into the bend of his neck. He held her tightly in his arms and pressed his lips to her mouth. "I love you," she said, choking on her tears as he slid free of her arms and melted into the night. Alexander's hand was light on her elbow, guiding her into the darkness of the abandoned mine shafts where she'd wait, worry, and pray, once again for Patrick's safe return.

Alex hugged Lucien for all he was worth. Around them, people averted their eyes and tended to the larger tasks at hand, lighting lanterns along the dark tunnels that led deeply into the bowels of the earth, setting up a command station, and handing out supplies to the others. Everyone seemed to have a job to do. Everyone but her, she'd nominated herself the official worrier, although that task seemed to be passing itself along quite nicely throughout the underground maze. No one knew what would happen. When topside would be safe. And who would be returning or when. "Gotta go to work, huh?"

Lucien rested his forehead against Alex's. "Yeah, gotta go to work," he mumbled in reply. He quickly pressed a kiss to her lips and unwound his arms from his neck. He was a warrior and this was just another day at the office. Sure. Right. This was the battle he'd been training for since the moment he entered this world. Not everyone would be coming back. Not this time.

Alex stood on her tiptoes, clutching Lucien's cheeks in her fingers. "Be safe out there. For god's sake, please be safe." The feeling of dread she'd had before was nothing compared to the feeling she had now. She had the sinking sensation that this was the last time she'd ever see him again. It had to be her imagination. Lucien was strong. He was smart. A survivor. He'd be back for her before she knew it. Nothing bad would happen to him. Not when he was so careful.

Lucien bent and gave Alex a soft peck on the lips. "Don't worry about me. I'll be back before you have a chance to miss me." He backed away from her, pausing to give her one last look. She stood forlorn, her arms wrapped around her chest in worry, with a forced smile on her lips. As soon as this was over, he was going to put a genuine one in its place. Turning, determined not to look back, he made his way to the exit to join his brothers.

Alex found Janine and her parents in the maze of tunnels. Her mom was busily managing everything and everybody. Like always, she was the glue that held it all together. Her dad was over in the corner, trying to coax the old generator that powered the lights in the mine's main tunnels to life. The mines had been there as long as anyone could remember. But, they had sat dormant and unoccupied for the better part of a century. Until now.

Janine was just wandering around, lost in the frenzy of activity, just trying to keep it together. Seeing her, Janine trotted over and buried her face, bawling like a scared little kid, on Alex's shoulder. Alex comforted Janine as best she could, telling perhaps the biggest lie of all. "Don't worry. It'll all be fine. They'll be back safe and sound in no time." The lie died on her lips. How could she convince her best friend to believe it when she didn't believe it herself?

*******

Kore guided her group through the woods. They'd perform. They'd do exactly what she told them to or they'd die. Not that they realized it, but either way, they were dead anyway. What rabble the Sons didn't finish off. She would. Once they'd outlasted their purpose. The Son's lodge stretched out on the periphery of a dense outcropping of trees. Hidden in plain sight. Ballsy, predictable, and far too easy, like taking candy from a baby. Kore waved to her rag tag army and motioned them forward to attack.



















Chapter 44

Robbie had a plan. Granted, it wasn't a good one. But, it was a plan. Gathering her courage, she stood. Her ribs ached and throbbed. Her body was healing the damage. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. She had no idea of how to play the wanton seductress. It wasn't like it mattered. DuPage was going to rape her before he killed her anyway. Of that, she was certain. So, why not capitalize on that fact and at least, hopefully, create enough of a distraction for John Mark to get away. Her hands moved to her blouse and began unbuttoning the buttons. "I have a last request before you kill me."

A deep, throaty, eager groan escaped DuPage's lips as he approached his prey. The girl undressed, dropping her blouse and her bra to the ground to reveal the most perfect set of tits he'd ever seen. Consensual sex was not his thing. He preferred to take what he wanted. But, the promise of her imminent death by his hands had him hard and ready. "I don't do requests. But, I'm listening."

Robbie kicked her blouse and bra away from her with the point of her shoe. If she could do nothing else, at least she would leave something behind for the trackers. "I'd like to go out with a bang," she giggled, "or at least one last bang before I die." Her eyes slid to the guards holding John Mark prisoner, noticing their interest. Perfect. The longer she diverted their attention away from him the better his odds of escaping. Coyly, she tipped her head toward the guards. "Of course, there's plenty here to go around."

Robbie swallowed her revulsion as DuPage reached out and palmed her breast roughly in his palm. When he latched onto a nipple, his hot breath snaking across her skin like an evil wind, scorching the flesh, her stomach heaved with nausea. He held his blade tightly in his grip. The cold, steel tip rested against her back ready to filet her if she made one wrong move.

John Mark took advantage of DuPage's and his guards' distraction, wriggling desperately in the chains to free his bound limbs. The sight of DuPage with his hands on Robbie, pawing at her and grinding against her was almost his undoing. She kicked her head back like she liked what the bastard was doing to her, coaxing him on with heavy sighs and deep moans. The noises she made were loud enough and distracting enough to cover the rustle of leaves beneath him as he worked free of the chains. Dumb sons of bitches should have used duct tape. But, luckily for him, they hadn't. Otherwise, he'd never get free.