Dawn Discovered

Daniel heard his father say his name and glanced up from his iPod. Seeing his dad cuddled with the brunette woman, the two of them stuffed so cozily in an oversized recliner, disgusted him. Daniel didn't know who she was. He didn't care. He already despised her. So, getting to know her better was completely a moot point. He rolled his eyes in their general direction and turned up the volume to skull splitting in hopes of avoiding being dragged further into a conversation he didn't want to have.

"He hates me."

"Gina, don't take it personal. Daniel is a teenager. He hates everyone." Hunter bristled at Daniel's response to Gina. And the two of them were going to have a nice, long father/son chat about it, as soon as he got Gina settled in for the night. He plodded on as if he didn't notice Daniel's apparent rudeness. "And you already know Tristen, my oldest." Hunter nodded in his son's direction. Tristen was sprawled out on the floor dutifully trying to assemble a toy for one of his cousins. Parts were strewn everywhere. And Tristen's progress at the very best was minimal. So much for some assembly required.

"This one here is Mouse." He grabbed his daughter as she walked past and slung her up onto his lap. His little girl wasn't so little anymore. At the age of twelve she was beginning to fill out and get her curves. And didn't that make him feel ancient. Mouse was the complete opposite of Daniel. She was openly curious, shy and hesitant, but willing to at least give Gina a shot. He didn't blame his kids. He had to address Daniel's overt rudeness to a guest of the Pack. But, he understood. He had a lot to make up for. He hadn't exactly been father of the year. And wasn't likely to win the title anytime soon. "Mouse, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Gina." Mouse and Gina exchanged glances sizing one another up in the depreciating way that females of all ages do.

Marianne gave her most polite, 'hello' to the woman her father was so intent on introducing her to. Any attention from her dad was good. And if making nice with Gina would ensure it continued, she was all for it. Gina was not as pretty as Aunt Claire. She was all lean, hard muscle where Aunt Claire was soft and curvy. She had blondish hair, sort of like Aunt Claire's. Highlights of gold and red wove through an under layer of soft brown, a dye job for sure. And the style was something trendy, straight out of a fashion magazine. Gina had perfectly straight, white teeth, a likewise perfect complexion, and held herself so composed, her shoulders back and spine straight. She wore a plastic smile on her face, like a mask, to hide her apprehension.

Marianne thought Gina's eyes were her best feature and certainly her most natural one. Gina's eyes were a soft shade of green and were the only thing about herself that she couldn't really change. The color of a person's eyes could be enhanced with contact lenses, sure. But, not the reflection of the soul mirrored in their depths. Her dad's new friend, and no, she was not so naïve that she failed to realize this woman was her dad's girlfriend, had a deep fracture running through the middle of her soul. She knew, because she'd seen the very same expression in her dad's eyes for as long as she could remember, until now.

Marianne decided it might be in her best interests to give Gina a chance. After all, the woman could become her stepmother someday. And after everything Gina had done for her dad. Basically, brought him back to life. How could she not give her benefit of the doubt? Marianne clung to her father's neck. And although she was too old to sit in his lap, she soaked up the overwhelming warmth of her father's embrace. Gina had given her back her dad when she'd thought he was gone forever. Sure, she'd have to share him with another woman. But, that was ok, because one day when she grew up. He'd have to share her with her with somebody else too.

Marianne let it go and enjoyed acting a couple of years younger than she actually was for just a minute. Sitting on her dad's big lap, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders, surrounded by the scent of his wolf and of Pack, she couldn't do otherwise. Her dad had never held her this way before and it was the only thing she'd ever dreamed of. Her dad was happy. And if that meant Gina was going to be a part of their lives, it was fine by her.

"Hi," Gina replied nervously. Up close, she could see Hunter in his daughter's features. They shared the same shaped eyes and slant to their nose. The girl was a picture of loveliness. Dressed for summer in a red, polka dotted t-shirt and faded jean shorts. She sat on her father's lap with the most contented smile on stretched across her cherubic face Gina had ever seen. Someday this girl was going to give the boys a run for their money. And it was going to happen sooner rather than later. Already, Mouse showed hints of the heartbreaker she was growing up to become. And more than that, Mouse was smart. Wickedly, confidently smart, and she knew it. Someday, this little girl so happy and content in her father's arms was going to change the world.

Hunter had told her that he didn't have the best relationship with his children. But, maybe with the exception of Daniel, he was making great strides toward winning back their hearts. Trust would be a long time in coming. His absence from their lives had affected them all. That broke her heart. She'd never known her real parents. Her foster parents were as good as any parents a kid could ask for. But, a part of her always wondered what her life would have been like if she'd been raised with her real family.

Something deep inside of her ached for what these people, this huge, extended family of aunts and uncles, brothers, sisters, and cousins, had. There was plenty of love here, inside of this house. She didn't belong. Everyone was polite to her, almost painfully so. But, she didn't fit in yet. She was still on the outside, looking in. She'd only just gotten here. Of course, his family wouldn't accept her as one of the family. It was too soon. And she really wasn't part of the family, neither by marriage or by blood. How could she expect anything different?

Mouse's long, silky, black hair hung down to her waist. Pulled back into a neat ponytail the strands trailed over her shoulder and draped over Hunter's muscular forearm. Gina knew right away that the child was as suspicious of her as the rest of the family. Winning the girl and these people over was going to take a lot of work on her part. Their trust was a hard earned commodity. But, she had a suspicion that once you were in, these people were the kind of people that never turned you away. When you were family. You were family. "That is a pretty locket."

"Thanks," Marianne said, wrinkling her nose. She didn't have anything nice to say back so she did what Grandpa Nash said she should do in such situations and kept her mouth shut. Gina was shaky and nervous. Negative energy hovered over her like storm clouds about to burst. Gina was trying so hard...too hard. And it rubbed Marianne the wrong way. It wasn't Gina's fault. Gina saw her as a kid. And in a lot of ways, Marianne still was a little girl. But, she was far more jaded than a kid of twelve should ever be. "Can I go? I want to see if Aunt Claire will let me hold GT."

"Nice to meet you, Mouse." Gina said, as Hunter dismissed his daughter. If anyone asked her how she'd best describe Mouse, she could sum up her first impression in one word. Terrifying. Gina shook her head and slouched deeper into the dense padding of the recliner. This whole thing, as badly as she wanted it, didn't seem to be going so well. Tristen was an innocuous flirt. Harmless enough. And he'd danced with her primarily to goad his father into action. Maybe, Hunter was right and Daniel was at that awkward phase where he disliked everything and everyone, especially adults. But, it seemed like Hunter's middle son had a particular disdain for her. And Mouse hadn't even reached puberty yet. But, for some reason, she seemed far older than her tween years. Resting her forehead in her palm, with Hunter stroking her back in an attempt to ease her. She wondered exactly what was she getting herself into?

Marianne stopped and turned. Flinging a black curtain of hair as she looked over her shoulder. She hated her nickname. Her brother, Daniel, had penned her with it from the day she was born. The nickname had stuck, much to her embarrassment. It wasn't easy to be twelve years old and named after a rodent and be taken with any measure of seriousness. "My name is Marianne."

Gina blushed a furious red at being put in her place by a pint-sized powerhouse the likes of which she'd never encountered before. "Nice to meet you, Marianne," she corrected. She caught Claire's sympathetic smile and ducked her head. With the exception of a few others, Claire was the only person who made her feel welcomed in the slightest. She was surprised to see Claire and Grant in attendance for a family meal so soon after the delivery. Claire and Grant were positively beaming. Proud as any parents could be of the bundle of joy Claire held in her arms.

Dinner was almost as painful as the introductions to Hunter's family had been. Gina sat crammed between two sets of shoulders at a long table overflowing with food and teeming with polished silverware. Of course, she couldn't blame them for that. Most people did eat with silverware. And his family didn't know about her phobia. Knives were a particularly touchy matter. Especially sharp blades like the ones meant for carving meat. The sight of a carving knife, slicing through a slab of rare beef and the juices flowing out of the pink hued flesh were enough to make her bolt from the table and lock herself in the bathroom. Crying hysterically, she rocked and tried to control trembling. "I'll be out in a minute," she answered the hesitant knock.

"Gina, its Hunter. Will you let me in?" Hunter should have thought to warn his family about Gina's fear of silverware. He should have made them cut the prime rib in the kitchen and set the table with clear plastic forks and spoons. The sheer number of people at the table was overwhelming enough for her. He should have known better than to toss her haphazardly into the thick of his family. His fault, he thought guiltily. He'd been so happy to have her here, beside him that he forgot, about her and her feelings.

Gina reached up and unlocked the door, scooting across the tile out of the way. The bathroom was barely big enough for one person. As Hunter walked in, she should have felt claustrophobic in such a confining space. But, she didn't. She felt safe. "I'm sorry I wrecked dinner."

"You didn't." Hunter closed the door behind him, depressed the lock, and sat next to her on the tile floor. "I'm the one who's sorry. I should have known better. I pushed you too hard, too fast. My family can be more than a little intimidating." He reached up and pulled a towel off the rung, dabbing at her tearstained face.

"Are they all like you? Do they all live here?" Gina asked.

"Yes, except for Claire, they all have the gift of the wolf. And yes, we live here together. Being close to the pack is essential for our survival. We have little choice. But, the house is more than big enough for all of us and there's more than enough room for one more."

Sometimes Hunter was so human that it was easy to forget what he really was. His family looked human and acted human. But, they weren't. They were the stuff of horror movies and scary stories whispered around campfires. Werewolves. Vampires. She'd never been afraid of Hunter. And as stupid as it might be, she didn't fear for her safety around his family. Somehow, she just knew these people, strange and unique as they were would protect her. But, there were just so many of them and so many new faces.

At the reception, people came and went. She saw family resemblances in the crowd. But, hadn't truly calculated how big his family really was. There was plenty of space to move around and disperse the crowd. Every seat at the dining room table had been filled. At least twenty, maybe thirty people were gathered together. Stuffed shoulder to shoulder at the table. All of them hungry and eager to eat, clanking their silverware as they unrolled their napkins. Hey, at least there wasn't any bottled water to send her over the edge and straight into the loony bin. Overwhelming? Hunter had no idea how much of an understatement overwhelming truly was.

"Everyone must think I'm some kind of a nut job. I should go apologize. Try to explain myself," Gina muttered. How could she explain her stupid paranoia of bright ornately carved silverware without making the situation worse? The last thing she needed was for people to feel sorry for her. Tossing a drowning person a life preserver was one thing. But, for someone capable of drowning in a teaspoon, the only thing to toss that kind of a person was pity. And that she didn't want or need.

"For what? Gina, you know what I am. You know what they are. Think about what you're saying. We run around on all fours in the woods. Growling and pissing on tree stumps. Marking everything that doesn't move. Fighting over scraps of dead things that any self respecting buzzard wouldn't eat and you want to apologize?"

"When you put it that way." Gina snickered at Hunter's analogy of wolf behavior. The wolves were beautiful, graceful majestic creatures. Hunter's wolf was thickly muscled, with erect ears and a sleek, soft, bushy coat tinted with variegating shades of rich brown so dark it was almost black. Terrifying and amazingly powerful, his wolf was able to kill with a snap of his jaws. But, his wolf was also gentle. There was so much of Hunter in the wolf and so much of the wolf in Hunter. Sometimes, it was difficult to tell where one of the two of them ended and the other began.

She broke away from Hunter's stare. His eyes and the soft brown of his wolf's eyes were the same. Gentle, loving, and pinned solely on her. His unbroken attention focused solely on her was too intense. She played with the edge of the bathmat, tugging on the fuzzy strands with her fingertips. "Is there even a term for being terrified of silverware?"

Hunter chuckled. The tiny bathroom wasn't exactly the best place for a heart to heart conversation. Gina was frayed around the edges and starting to come unraveled. She needed time and space. And the overwhelming crush of his family and this postage stamp sized bathroom were not going to cut it. He stood. Extending a hand to pick her up off the floor. At least, Gina had a sense of humor. Although it was a self-depreciating, sarcastic, very dry sense of humor that took someone just as versed in it as she to understand. "I Googled it. Argyrophobia."

Gina actually snickered at her weak enunciation of the word. Hunter damped the end of the towel and smoothed it across her cheeks. He was always trying to pick her up and put her back together. And in some ways, it made her feel better. Cherished and loved. But, in others it made her feel worse. Weak. Fragile. "That's better," he said. Gently, he tipped her chin up and gave her a light peck on the lips. "Want to see where you'll be staying?"

"I thought I'd be staying in the compound or here."

"No. I thought you'd prefer someplace above ground. But maybe a little less crowded than here. Claire's father has a cabin just at the edge of the county line. It is quiet, secluded, very private, and completely silverware free. You do still want to stay, don't you? Remember what we agreed on, Gina. Step by step"

Gina smiled. Leave it to Hunter to see to every detail of her needs. He had always seen to her comfort and safety. Acted as her protector. And now, on the verge of this something more happening between the two of them, he became her best friend and closest confidant. He was her respite, her safe haven. But, not even he could keep her sequestered from the world forever. Staring up at him, her weight balanced against his broad chest. Locked in place by the depth of everything that made up this complex man. She found herself drawn inexorably in. Unable to speak, breathless in the wake of his confidence in her, in himself, and in them, she nodded.

Chapter 4

"Hurry up, Blake. We're going to be late." Dena paced around his living room. The place looked, pretty much, exactly like it had the day she'd left, twenty some years ago. She'd grossly underestimated her ex husband's frugality. Some things never changed, like the draperies, the threadbare carpet on the floor, the battered remnants of a sofa and matching armchair pieced together with scraps of duct tape, and her ex's inability to get anywhere on time.

Blake smoothed down his wild tangle of salt and pepper hair. His hair was more salt than pepper these days. Suppressing the urge to scratch, he straightened the stiff new shirt Dena had insisted that he wear and tucked it into the waistband of his dress slacks. He had regular clothes for everyday and a few good ones saved back for special occasions. And she hadn't liked any of them. His hair was probably a few strands thinner after she'd practically dragged him by it to Hanna's and forced him to part with a hefty chunk of his hard earned cash. He didn't see the point. GT was just a baby. Hell, his newborn grandson was barely twenty-four hours old. It wasn't like GT was going to form an opinion of his grandpa based on clothing.

He was a schoolteacher. Teaching tenth graders the miracles of science and coaching the baseball team hardly made him a wealthy man. Some things never changed and were likely to never change. Dena had no fear of spending money. She wanted nice things that were a little beyond her means. Maybe, it was her career that gave her the courage to spend so freely. After all, as a real estate agent she made her living selling dreams of the good life to other people.

He had plans for that grandson of his. The minute GT got old enough to hold a fishing pole in his chubby fist. He was calling it quits. Retiring. Of course, this monkey suit, she'd insisted he buy would postpone his golden years by a few months. The suit was a nice cut. Straight off the rack because, much to her distress and his amusement, there wasn't time to get it properly tailored. The sleeves of the jacket were a little too long. The waistband of the pants, and yes, he still wore the same size he had in college despite what she tried to say otherwise, was a little snug.

Well hell, he'd shelled out the cash and bought the damn thing just to make her happy. The tie, a hideous print she insisted matched the jacket, strangled him. But, what do you know. He looked pretty good in the get up. He splashed on some aftershave and gave up on what was left of his hair. Damn, he missed the full head of hair he'd had in his twenties. However, the thought of wiling away the day in a boat on the lake with his grandson eased the burn, a little.

He only had to wear the suit long enough to survive dinner with Grant's side of the family and then he could hang it in the back of his closet and forget about it. The next time he wore it would probably be at his own funeral. And he wouldn't exactly care if the waistband chafed, if the tie was stifling, or if the shirt was itchy. Dead folk didn't exactly complain and neither would he when the time came. Blake made a mental note to tell Claire about the suit. He didn't see the point in wasting a dime of her inheritance on fancy clothing to send him off into the afterlife. For a stiff, the suit was fine.

The screech of his ex wife's voice, telling him to hurry it up, was music to his ears. Damn, he'd missed her constant nagging. Blake ran a hand through his hair and sauntered out of the half-bath off the master bedroom. John Travolta didn't have shit on him. For as miserable in this suit as he was. He could work it. And he'd proven that to his ex last night.