Dawn Awakening

Kore shooed her bodyguard with a flick of her finely coifed nails and focused on the subtle movement of the brush just ahead. Good. The redhead had finally made her position known. The little bitch was no match for her. There was time to strike her down before the warriors swamped the place. After all, what kind of challenge could a newly turned weakling be for someone of her age and skill? Kore was almost ashamed to kill her. Almost. It'd be too easy. Too simple, but, oh so satisfying to watch her die.

Robbie watched Kore and her bodyguard, a huge, hulking male, walk closer to where she crouched in the bushes with John Mark. Kore could have been out for an early morning stole as carelessly and casually as she walked amongst the dead. Robbie still couldn't rouse John Mark from his stupor. He'd faded in and out of consciousness a couple of times. But, he was in no shape to fight. Kore would kill the both of them. No question about that. It was up to her to protect him.

From the east, she heard the heavy footfalls of the Sons boots on the dewy ground. All she had to do was buy them a little time. Keep Kore busy and John Mark and herself alive until they got there. No problem. Gathering what courage she could muster, Robbie gave up her hiding place, gripping John Mark's heavy sword in her hands and walked out into the clearing to face her worst enemy and her deepest fears.

Kore roared with amusement, clapping hands gleefully. "Oh, I needed a good laugh. Really, child what do you plan to do with that?" she asked, gesturing to the sword clutched in Robbie's fists. This was going to be too fun. Gauging the distance of the footfalls echoing though the silence, she glanced over her shoulder to the east and then back to Robbie. She had time to finish the girl off. Taking her life would be as simple as taking candy from a baby.

Kore's bodyguard stood defensively, weapon drawn, analyzing the best angle for attack. Annoyed by his insistent devotion and his stupidity at getting in her way, she pushed him out of her path. "Give me your blade, I'll take care of this...thing, myself."

"Well at least you can fight your own battles," Robbie shouted with false bravado. In the back of her mind, she hoped the warriors were closer than she thought. Even if she took down Kore, she doubted her abilities against a highly trained bodyguard such as the one blocking her path, staring her down with narrowed eyes filled with menace.

When Kore pushed him out of the way and demanded the blade from his hand, Robbie almost did a back flip out of sheer relief. That was, until she realized that Kore might be every bit as lethal with a weapon as her bodyguard. Maybe more so, after all she'd had plenty of time to practice.

The woman moved like she knew what she was doing. Which was more, a hell of a lot more, than Robbie could say for herself. Robbie's training consisted of a few Kung-fu movies and a couple of haphazard trial swings of John Mark's heavy blade. "Careful, you might break a nail," she said, egging Kore on. Kore's eyes narrowed in rage. "Great," Robbie muttered, gripping the hilt in her fist as if her life depended on it. And it did. She left the shelter of the trees and advanced farther into the clearing, keeping Kore's attention on her and away from John Mark.

Robbie circled Kore, gripping the sword, point thrust out, sizing her up her opponent. Physically, Kore was taller and leaner than she. Breathtakingly beautiful with wide set almond shaped eyes, a creamy, toffee colored complexion, and sleek, thick, black hair that that hung to her waist in lush layers, like a velvet curtain. If there were any family resemblance between Kore, her brother, and herself, she sure as hell didn't see it. The woman moved with the grace of a great cat, ready to pounce. Confidently, her red lips curved in eagerness to start the fight. Kore was without obvious flaw. But, Robbie could see a chink in her armor, hiding beneath the fine, sparkly veneer of her perfection. Her overconfidence.

Robbie crouched low and gritted her teeth. If she failed, John Mark was as good as dead. Kore underestimated her, and the power of the bond that flowed between John Mark and she. Nobody fucked with her man and lived to tell about it. This slinky, centerfold wanna be was no exception. Kore could hack with her sword all day, as long as she kept John Mark out of it. But, the minute she stepped onto Robbie's turf and threatened her man...Kore had signed her death warrant. Lifting the heavy weapon, arms wobbling beneath its weight, Robbie found her courage and launched her attack.

Kore easily sidestepped the poorly aimed blade as it whisked past her ear. She chuckled softly under her breath and countered each swing. But, the force, the relentlessness of Robbie's attack eliminated the smug surety of her smile and soon she was blocking in earnest. Annoyed that she was actually having to work to cut the girl down, she launched her weapon in a counterattack. The girl dodged the bulk of the blows, twisting and turning to dodge the blade. One miscalculated step and her blade hit home, the razor sharp edge striking deep into the flesh of the girl's bicep, loosing a torrent of fresh blood to pool on the already blood soaked ground. "Just give up, I haven't really got the time for this," Kore said, her voice purring with confidence.

Robbie awkwardly gripped the sword in her non-dominant hand, pressing her right hand to staunch the flood pouring from the wound in her left bicep. Gasping against the pain, she gathered her courage. That bitch was not going to win! All she had to do was keep Kore and that bodyguard of hers distracted. Her skin prickled with awareness as the warriors drew close. No doubt, Kore could feel their presence too. Raising her blade high, she circled Kore. Robbie's biggest advantage might be that she hadn't been trained in swordplay at all and Kore couldn't predict when she was going to strike. "Scared?" Robbie asked as she launched another attack. This one found its mark; the blade pierced through Kore's skin as easily as a hot knife slides through butter.

Kore clutched the oozing wound at the base of her collarbone. She hadn't been fast enough to anticipate the girl's untrained move. She still felt confident that she could take the inexperienced child. She would carve her apart piece by piece. She was wearing her down. The girl's breathing was labored, the tip of the sword wavering in her grip. Yes, that was it. Toy with the girl and wait for the child to tire. Then as effortlessly as one swatted a fly, she'd rid herself of her.

Kore's bodyguard watched, the sight of his mistress's blood stirred his interest and fueled his protective instincts. Kore expected her orders to be followed and who was he to argue? Unless ordered to, he was unable to act. It was, after all, her command that held him inactive. Perhaps subconsciously, he longed for Kore to meet her death. And then he could finally be free, to die. It had been so long since cancer had taken his wife from him. He would have joined her sooner, if the vampire, Kiros, that son of a bitch, hadn't gotten to him before he could pull the trigger and release the bullet intended to end his life. Finally, he was on his way home to see her again.

Robbie's heart pounded in her chest. She'd never felt fatigue as acutely as she did now. Giving her blood to John Mark left her with little energy to fight. She had to be careful she didn't wear down before the warriors got here. The rising dawn was hell on her vision. Swirls and rainbows of blinding color danced in front of her eyes, causing her to miscalculate. To Kore, this was child's play. She laughed tauntingly as Robbie misjudged and the sword bounced harmlessly off the edge of her blade. Closing one eye, Robbie gauged her next strike, going for Kore's injured side. Her steel landed squarely and deeply in Kore's chest. "Hurts doesn't it," Robbie gasped, wincing against the pain of the deep gash in her arm.

Kore hissed curses at the girl, blocking a nearly fatal blow. Something beyond sanity drove this child on. She should be wearing down. Kore stumbled. Her legs wobbled from the pain. But, her pride kept her from ordering her bodyguard to intervene. She could defeat this menacing child. She raised her weapon with shaking hands defending herself against the next onslaught. Her breaths came out in staggered puffs as she spoke. "Why don't you just make it easy on yourself and give up. You know you can't win. I'll make your death quick, painless. I'll allow your mate to go free." She brought her blade around planting it deeply into Robbie's thigh, relishing the agony of the child's anguished cry.

The sun grew brighter in the eastern sky. Robbie had precious few minutes left before she would be totally blinded by its light and John Mark, still unconscious, defenseless. "If I'm going to die, I'm taking you with me!" Robbie staggered on her feet as the blood flowed freely down her leg. Her senses were tingling. The warriors were so close now, almost here. She squinted against the morning sun, spinning to the west to put its blinding rays behind her.

Kore misunderstood Robbie's backpedaling move as a sign of retreat. Eagerly, she closed the distance between them. She was ready to finish this. The Sons were closing in. Which, didn't leaver her much time to get away. She drove her weapon in a series of jabs and broad swings as Robbie moved countering her blows. Both of them were weakening from exhaustion and blood loss. By this point, it was just a matter of who would last the longest.

Kore was so close. Robbie felt the wariness radiating off her attacker's taxed body. She sensed Kore was loosing strength. It was all the incentive she needed to pour on more speed and drive Kore back beneath the dim shadows of the trees. Right where she wanted her. The clash of steel upon steel rang into the quiet of the woods, sending a murder of crows bursting out of the trees and up into the sky in a flurry of black feathers and shrill calls. She felt the resistance of Kore's flesh as her blade hit home, biting through Kore's ribs and deep into her chest.

Kore reeled in pain, sliding free from the blade. Her legs wavered, buckling under her weight. She fell to the ground, panting and bleeding, cursing the unfairness of it all that she, over a millennia old, should be killed by an infant less than a few weeks into this life. It wasn't fair. She had lived so long. Survived plagues, wars, and seen so much death. She'd become to believe that death wouldn't have her. Turned out, she was wrong. She would meet death today. Death welcomed her. Death would take her to places she could have never seen or dared to imagine in life. Blinking up at the sun, she stared up into its warmth. She'd forgotten what it felt like to feel its light on her face, heating her skin. "Do it, blood of my blood. Niece, send me to my brother."

The warriors approached the edge of the clearing cautiously. Squinting at the sunlight behind their dark glasses, they made a quick assessment of the happenings around them. They dispatched the bodyguard to the spirit world. He went willingly without a fight. John Mark lay unconscious, but alive, under the thick cover of brush. Robbie stood at the edge of the woods, her blade poised to deliver the deathblow. They didn't help her. They stood back and let her deliver it by her own hand.

Robbie raised her blade to strike. Kore met her eyes. Robbie wanted to look away from whatever she'd see in their inky depths. Whatever thoughts ran through Kore's mind in her final moments. That wasn't what a warrior did. Warriors didn't fear death. They didn't hide from it. They delivered death, when warranted, and embraced it, without hesitation.

The morning sun glimmered off the sword's edge in a dazzling rainbow of color. Poised, gathering her resolve to deliver death with a warrior's grace and skill. Swiftly, she severed Kore's head, ducking away from the spray of blood that followed the sword's arcing pass. Exhausted, she dropped the weapon, glad to be rid of it, and fell to her knees. Now, she could fall apart. John Mark was safe. The bad guys were dead. She'd earned the right to blubber incomprehensibly and let her emotional locomotive crash off the side of a steep psychological cliff.

Strong arms gently lifted her, cupping her body against a strong, molded chest. "John Mark?" Robbie asked. She didn't fight the arms that encircled her. Instinctively, she knew this man would not hurt her. He was safe. Father-safe. She couldn't bring herself to be shamed by her emotional collapse. Her legs lacked the strength to carry her home. And her heart was heavy, burdened by the weight of killing. She should be whooping it up. She'd killed a bad guy. THE BAD GUY. Instead, she cried, in soul wrenching sobs, drenching the shoulders that carried her so lightly, bearing her weight and her burden, when she could not.

"He's going to be fine. "Matchsquathi Nenoth'tu", Little Warrior, rest now," the Great Father said. She sobbed in his arms and finally soothed by the rocking motions of her body as he carried her through the woods, drifted off to a restless slumber.

She was a little thing, tiny. Weighted down by such a heavy burden, so light in his capable arms. He'd take it from her, if he could. Carry it himself, so that she didn't have to. She had a strong heart. A loving heart. And a warrior's heart. She'd earned her rest. The least he could do was bear her weight, carry her to a small cabin in the woods and lay her down on a soft bed, tuck the covers under her chin, and thank her for the piece of her soul she'd lost in the heat of the battle.

This war had cost plenty. This battle some had paid for with their blood, with their very lives, and all the brothers bore the loss. Everyone had lost something and someone, pieces of themselves to be burned on the funeral pyres along with the dead. He wished he could tell the Little Warrior that easier days were to come. But, he could not.













Chapter 49

Robbie awoke with her head nestled in John Mark's lap. He sang softly to her in Algonquin, gentle stroking her hair with the pads of his fingers. She turned slightly, enjoying the fell of his fingertips across her heated skin. "Hi," she said, stretching tentatively. Expecting to feel sore and battered and surprised by how loose and limber she was. "Anyone ever tell you that you sing off key?"

John Mark chuckled in that deep, raspy, sexy as hell chuckle of his. His chocolate colored eyes alight with something Robbie could only call love. He took her hand in his and brought her knuckles up to his lips, gently brushing them across his mouth. "Only you."

Robbie slid up, sitting in between his legs, her back resting against his chest. He nipped playfully at the nape of her neck, growling softly against her skin. His erection poked at her backside. "You're better, I take it," she asked, doing her best to ignore the heat of him, burning her so deep inside.

"Mmm," John Mark replied. Wrapping an arm around Robbie's waist, he pulled her tightly against him and snuggled in closer at the curve of her neck. "Thanks to you," he whispered into her ear. Overjoyed at just being alive and overwhelmed by the courage of this tiny woman in his arms, he circled his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her in an embrace that encompassed her entire body.

Robbie leaned in, relishing his closeness and the soft pound of his heart against her back. They were at his cabin. A fire danced merrily in the hearth and the soft purple of twilight tinted the windows. Tensing, she asked, "Is it over?"

He rocked her gently in his arms. "Yes, love. It is." She sensed he had more to tell her. But, for now all she wanted to do was to enjoy this quiet place and their time together. Wiggling free of his embrace, she turned to face him. His eyes sparkled in the light of the warm, cheerful fire on the hearth. She'd almost lost him. She'd almost died to save him. She'd killed to protect him. Her fingers traced the warm outline of his lips, heated by his breath. He had her heart and she'd willingly given her soul, for him. "I love you," John Mark said, his lips mouthing the word against her fingertips.

Robbie came undone, blinking away tears, not of sadness, but of joy. Absolute and complete joy and thankfulness, that he was here, alive, and in her arms where he belonged. The kiss was urgent and hot. Fueled by a renewed vigor, a zest for life and all the ups and downs that came along with it. She climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, snuggling her cheek against the roughness of his stubble-lined jaw.

"I think this should help to speed our recovery." She tossed the knit top someone had dressed her in over her head. It landed in a careless heap on the floor. There was nothing better than the sensation of John Mark's body against her bare skin, silk sliding against silk, heat stroking heat to build a fire that might someday burn them both to ash with its fury. His hands worked their magic, erasing every care and worry away with skillful strokes of his fingers over the curve of her breasts. And to think, less than twelve hours ago, she wasn't sure if she'd ever feel his touch again.

"I couldn't agree more. I'm feeling better already," John Mark said. He worked at the waistband of his jeans, never missing a beat or a stroke of his tongue over every inch of her delectable breasts. So much he would have missed out on, if not for her pulling him back from death's grip. The thought was inconceivable. He would have moved heaven, found a way to crawl out of hell's deepest pit to be by her side again. "But, Doc, I still have this pain." Groaning in a purely male, heated puff of air, he took her hand, guiding her dainty fingers to his hardness.

"Right here?" Robbie teased, sliding her fingers along his shaft. Oh, yeah, John Mark's health had definitely improved. And she was starting to feel a little heady from his therapeutic touch as well.

"Oh yeah," John Mark gasped. In a fluid movement, he rolled Robbie onto her back. Grasping her hips, he worked her loose, cotton yoga pants over her hips and down her shapely legs, pausing, here and there, and all the places in between, to worship every inch of her.

"I think I know how to cure what ails you," Robbie said, in between gasps of pleasure. "But, you'll have to be flat on your back for hours." She flipped him over on his back, straddling his thighs with her knees. He lifted his hips, working his jeans off. Sending them sailing to land somewhere on the floor at the foot of the bed. Yeah, she had a few ideas of how to make him feel better and she was going to do each and every one her mind dreamed up in every way humanly and inhumanly possible.

Robbie took his fullness into her mouth, drawing on it hard and lapping at the swollen head with the tip of her tongue. John Mark moaned with the pleasure of her hot, lush mouth so slick and sweet on his cock, lifting his hips to drive more of his length between her lips. "I love the way...you administer...your cure," he rasped, running his hands through her hair to pull at the strands captured by his fingers.

They made love with a ferocity and passion that knew no limits. The fear of losing each other and the relief that they were safe in one another's arms drove their need as they joined in a tangle of intertwined limbs, heavy, hot breaths, and pounding hearts. They reached new heights together. Far off places, that alone they could have never reached. Floating on clouds of fulfillment, they pleasured one another, taking and giving, loving and living, basking in the joy of the act and of simply being as alive as they could be.

"Hey there sleepyhead," John Mark said, nudging Robbie awake. After hours of making love, she'd drifted off into a bliss filled world of dreams. Bleary eyed, she blinked and stared up at the beautiful man grinning down at her. "We need to go hunting," he grinned in that crooked, mischieivious way that she'd fallen in love with. "And after that," he said on a joyous chuckle, "I've got a surprise for you."