Dawn Reclaimed

"In the city where she belongs," Hunter gritted. Feeling the smooth metal, warm from sanding, beneath his fingertips, he ducked behind the bumper. He did not want to talk about his love life with his oldest son. Tristen didn't know shit about women. And admittedly, neither did he.

"So, you let her get away," Tristen needled.

"No."

"So, you gave her away." Tristen rolled his eyes. Typical. His dad was so wrapped up in his stoic manner that of course, he had. "I'll have to pay her a visit sometime. Maybe she'd like the younger, much better hung version a lot more than the older model." He dug it in deep. Ready to get his ass thoroughly kicked. Instead, he got a low warning growl. Not a threat, but a promise.

"Stay away from her," Hunter spat out the threat. Eyes flashing in warning and his upper lip curled. His wolf scrabbled beneath his skin to defend what was theirs.

Tristen threw up his hands and took a few steps back. The garage was filled with the wild, musty scent of wolf. The air electrified with magic. "Why? You don't want her."

"She's human." Hunter took a deep breath and pulled back his wolf. Forcing his mind and body to calm. He picked up the sand paper and crushed it with his fist.

"So, I'm a Sagittarius."

"It's not that simple." Hunter sanded another brown patch of rust with all his might. Gritting his teeth beneath the strain.

"Sure it is. She's a girl. You're a guy. What's the problem?"

"Why don't you ask Grant that a few days from now when he's a widow. Ask yourself that same question when you're helping to lay her out on her pyre." Hunter's hands stilled. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered the last time he saw his wife. Her beauty veiled by a sheer gossamer death shroud. He choked a sob, holding it back. Remembering the burden of holding the torch to the kindling, lighting the fire that would send his wife's spirit to the goddess.

"You don't think Claire is going to make it," Tristen said softly. He'd kept the thought pushed so far out of his mind that he had never truly considered it. She was due any day. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his dad's hollow, empty wail. And saw his mom's hand, pale as snow, hanging limply over the edge of the bed. That wouldn't happen to Grant and Claire. It couldn't.

Hunter winced at the memories and realization etched across his son's face. "My brother and I have always had our differences, true. But, I don't wish that on him. I wouldn't wish the loss of a child or a wife on anyone." He looked up at Tristen. "For all of their sakes, I pray it doesn't."

Dena arched her neck as a pair of warm lips traveled along her flesh, sighing happily. Last night had been amazing. Blake knew every place to touch and exactly how to touch those places. After all the years apart, he'd never forgotten how to pleasure her. But, there was something more to their night together. She still loved him. She always had.

His touch was light and gentle, maddeningly slow. As if he were savoring each second. Cherishing it. She knew beyond a doubt, his touch spoke the words that his lips could not. For all the years and everything that had passed between them. He still loved her too. They could never go back to where they were. Too much water had passed under that bridge. They were different people now. Perhaps, since they couldn't cross the same bridge over and over again. They could tear the old one down and build a new one.

Blake held Dena, nuzzling her neck with his lips. Smiling as a sigh echoed in her throat and a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hair was splayed across the pillow in a shower of gold and sliver, her eyes closed and long lashes fluttering across her cheek. After all this time, she still drove him to the point of insanity. His hopes were too high to whisper aloud. Doing so might break the magic of the moment they'd shared. They had their own lives now. And they were both so set in their ways. After traveling alone for so long, could their paths truly merge again? Was it possible for them to complete life's journey together?

"You always did like morning sex," Blake whispered thickly in her ear. Smoothing his hands down soft curves and the arching planes of her body, he savored every touch. Time and gravity had changed the shape that was once so familiar to him. She was still his girl. And still just as beautiful and intriguing as the day they met. She was still the only one for him. Over the years he hadn't been a monk. But, no other woman had ever made him feel the way she did. He mussed, silently snickering, the way he felt for her and the things she did were the real difference between love and lust.

"You always liked sex in general," Dena replied. Reaching behind her to cup his hardening penis in her palm. Coaxing and teasing it until it rose to full length. Sure, the pump took a little longer to prime than it used to. A layer of soft pudge covered what was once solid and rock hard muscle. His chest hair was salt and pepper matching the thinning patch on his head. None of that mattered to her. She'd had a few interludes over the years. They paled in comparison to this. To the feeling of being locked in the arms of someone who really loved her and knew her just as well as she knew herself.

"I thought being a horny pervert was one of my better qualities." Blake slid out of her palm and edged Dena onto her back. Parting her thighs with his fingers, he explored the sweet lands in between.

"It is, not your best, but definitely..." Dena's breath hitched in her throat and she let out a moan of joy, this man knew how to let his fingers do the walking... "one of your better ones." She opened up for him, coaxing him on top of her with eager hands. She was so close. Smoothing a hand down his chest, she cupped him and guided him in. Loving the feeling and the man, as he plunged into her depths.

Blake obliged Dena. Sliding in. Driving slowly. Taking his time. Fulfilling years of unrealized longing. Her sighs and gentle breaths caressed his skin. Her finger dug into his back. Spurring him on. He tried to hold back. Make up for all the missed nights and days. He was spiraling out of control. Taking her with him. Filling her. Giving all that he had. He took all that she gave in return.

Together, they spun in a world of sighs, greedy pulls and thrusts, and complete and utter pleasure. Bodies crushed as one. A new foundation built atop of the old one that time had crumbled to dust. Lips parted but no words were said. None were needed. The road before them was uncertain. How far they'd travel it together, unknown. Where it would take them, was entirely in their hands. Reunited. Coupled. Memories shared. And nothing but blank paths lay before them ready to be traveled and discovered.

Gina sat and stared blankly out the patio door. Gazing down on the deserted city below. Sunday in downtown was always this way. Empty. Dozing until the bustle of Monday morning. Gina had no place to go. At least she'd managed to shower and change. In her hands she clutched a half eaten bowl of cereal.

She hadn't ventured out of the apartment on her own since she'd been back. This was her vie for independence. Spending it trapped in an apartment? This was her new life? Maybe, she should have given in and stayed at the compound. At least then, she wouldn't be alone. Maybe she should have given in to the needs of her body and let Hunter take her to all the places left unexplored. She slammed the cereal bowl down on the kitchen table. Snatching up the phone. Flipping it open. Call him. Don't call him. Call somebody. Do something.

She fisted the phone. Determined. No she wouldn't call him. She wouldn't call anyone. Saving her was no one's job but hers. What did anyone really owe her? Nothing. She was going to have to force herself to live again. How? She could sit here a prisoner to her paranoia and fear or she could go out. She couldn't sit here and do nothing. Life wasn't much if she was too afraid to live it. She snatched up her purse. A trip to the coffee shop or the fast food joint on the corner would be something. Hesitantly, she unbolted the door and took a brave step out into the hallway. Repeating Hunter's words I her head until they became a mantra. One step at a time, that's all she had to do, take just one more step.

Thomas nursed one hell of a hang over. Mixing alcohols and drinking so much of each different variety had not been his smartest idea. But, then again, he was never one for intelligence when self-preservation came into play. He winced. Dry swallowing four ibuprofen pills.

Claire was on her honeymoon. Having the time of her life while he was slouched under the covers, suffering with the world's worst hangover. Gritting his teeth through a skull-pounding headache. She was ancient history as far as he was concerned. He expected an urgent call any day now. He had one last thing to do for her. See her safely through the delivery. And then he was done, casual and cool friendship, nothing more, no emotional entanglement. That was his new strategy when it came to her.

Claire cuddled beside Grant wrapped up in a thick hand sewn quilt. Their honeymoon had been absolutely perfect. Tomorrow they'd be busy, sharing their time shuffled between families in a mad string of celebrations. She'd been nervous and on edge all day. Thinking that she was nervous about all the running around they'd have to do tomorrow and how little of the actual honeymoon they'd get to spend to themselves.

The first bolt of pain shot through her belly, not the usual fluttery discomfort of false labor. This wasn't a practice run, but the real thing. She grit her teeth and timed the contractions. They were ten minutes apart. Still plenty of time, nothing to worry about, could take hours. "Grant, I think we'd better get going," She huffed, hiding her pain.

"What?" Grant had been dozing off. Wrapped in happiness and pure joy. Dreaming intermittently.

"Grant. I think it's time," Claire heaved. Blowing out her breath as another contraction ripped through her body. She sniveled. Gripping his hand to hoist her up off the bed. "I'm going to wreck our honeymoon," she wailed.

Grant's hands shook as he eased her feet into a pair of shoes. "No you're not. This is the best honeymoon you could have ever given me." He gave her a light reassuring hug and a peck on the forehead. Then began gathering up his keys and their bags.

Claire stifled a cry. She had no idea how bad the labor was going to be. Until now, gritting her teeth as she clutched her belly. His kiss did little to reassure her or ease the painful contractions that were increasing in speed and intensity. "Oh... I'm not so sure about that." She stared down at her wet legs and the puddle beneath her feet. " We'd better hurry."

Grant hustled her down the narrow stairs and into the car. Claire tried to be brave. Stifling her cries as she leaned back heavily in the seat. Breathing in and out against each new onslaught of pain. He hated that he was hurting her. And there was nothing he could do to help her. He had to keep both hands on the wheel. Go slowly and carefully to avoid landing the little car into a ditch. "We're almost to the highway. Hold on babe!" he said urgently.

Claire pressed her back into the seat and gritted against the pain. The contractions were horrible. Wave after wave of pain tore through her body. Her muscles burned. Her hips felt as if they were being ripped in two. And the pressure, the weight of the baby as it fought for its freedom, almost unbearable. The rains the forecasts promised had held off until today. Fat drops fell in sheets of gray. The car swerved and veered as Grant gunned the engine. The tires scrabbled for hold on the slick pavement. Rock and gravel yielded to concrete. On a good day, the drive from the cabin to the compound would take about fifteen minutes. Today, making way from the remote country setting to the highway had taken thirty. She was not going to deliver this baby in a Prius. "Grant, hurry." Claire bit down. Fighting the urge to push.

The tires spun helplessly against the rain slicked road. They weren't getting anywhere fast. Damnable economy car, he should have planned ahead and taken the truck. Valuable seconds ticked by precariously fast. Grant gritted his teeth and steered in the direction of the spinning tires. Barely managing to keep the little car on the road. "I'm doing what I can. Just hang in there." He spared a few seconds worth of valuable concentration. Taking his eyes off the road and wincing at the pained expression on her face. Risking it, he gave the car a little more gas and gripped the steering wheel.

Claire fumbled in her purse and grappled with her cell phone. She pressed number two on speed dial. The moment he picked up, she sucked in a breath of pain. "Thomas, hurry." The conversation cut off by a gasp of agony. "Please hurry."

Thomas got the call he expected. Claire was in labor. Her voice was pinched layered with pain. He pulled on his scrubs and palmed the keys to his aged Blazer. Frowning as he backed out of the garage. The rain fell in torrents. But the Blazer was an older model, built like a tank. He'd make it to the compound in plenty of time to bring that baby into the world. Taking a few seconds to silently whisper a prayer to whatever deity happened to be listening. Praying that his hands would be sure, his mind alert, and that his skill would be enough. Claire couldn't die. He wouldn't accept that failure.

Sweat poured from Claire's brow. She knew labor was going to be painful. But she never expected it to be this severe or to come so fast. The urge to push was almost overwhelming. Her lower abdomen was a ball of burning fiery pain. They were making little progress. The gravel roads were barely discernable form the surrounding fields in the thick, heavy downpour of rain. "Grant, we're running out of time. This baby is coming."

Grant coasted to a crawl. Signaling, although he didn't know what for, the car was the only one on the road, and sliding around a corner onto a long stretch of narrow gravel road. Steep, bramble covered embankments hedged each side of the lane, barely discernable through the heavy deluge of the storm. "Just hang on."

Claire fumbled with the cell phone. Calling her mom. She wasn't going to tell her until after the baby came. Her mom didn't know about the vampires and the wolves. And Claire hadn't planned on telling her just yet. As the pain grew more and more intense, so did her desire for the comforting presence only a mother could offer. "Mom."

Dena answered her phone. Hearing her daughter's panic filled voice on the other end garbled by static and clipped words. "I'll get your father and we'll be right there."

"Mom, you don't know where to go. I'm not at the hospital," Claire panted breathing heavily against the pressure in her pelvis. She had to hold on. The backseat of car on the middle of muddy gravel road in the middle of a storm was no place to have a baby. She had to hold on.

"Baby, I know where you are. Don't you worry. Your dad and I'll be there before the baby comes. Don't think about anything but having the baby." After a pause filled by Claire's heavy breathing on the other end, "I love you, honey." Now was not the time to explain the secrets she'd hidden from Claire. She knew about Claire's plan for Thomas to deliver the baby. She had connections that kept her in the loop. She knew the truth about what Grant was, and although it worried her, she kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. She knew all about the compound and its mysterious inhabitants. She always had.

"Blake, it's time." Gathering her purse and her keys. Knowing her little car would never make it out of the drive let alone the trek up the winding path to the compound's hidden entrance. She waited for Blake and the aged hunk of gas guzzling metal he called a truck to back out of the garage.

Grant had never been so glad to see a vampire in his life. Patrick must have picked up on his scent or sensed his worry through their connection. As he pulled into the sloping, narrow lane, a garage door opened. Inside, worried and concerned faces stared out at him.

Claire felt strong, capable arms lift her. Felt the rocking of footsteps as they rushed through the corridors. Contractions ripped and tore through her body in waves of searing agony. She wanted to kick and scream. Fight back against each new onslaught of pain. There was nothing but the pain occupying every thought, only pain. She heard the hard thump of a door being flung open. And felt the soft, cool linen sheets beneath her body.

Hands tore at her clothes and voices shouted. There was a prick and a sting then the sensation of cool fluid flooding into her veins. Dry, sterile smelling oxygen was pumped into her nose. And a blood pressure cuff squeezed her arm. She could hear the steady and rapid beep-beep of a heart monitor marking the rhythm of a pulse. Light papery hands traced across her forehead. A weathered and whispery voice, Nana, she realized, spoke softly to Grant. She strained to hear the exchange. Catching only a few words, enough to realize that she and the baby were in grave danger.

Thomas scrubbed in and gowned up. Immediately sizing up the situation. Claire lay pale and panting. Wrapped in blankets. Tubing and wires snaked across her body. He snapped a pair of gloves into place. Acknowledging what the midwife and Doc had assessed. But wanting to take a closer look for himself. Fresh blood pooled beneath Claire's thighs. She was bulging and ready to deliver. But the baby, every bit as stubborn as she, had other ideas. Refusing to emerge out into the world that was ready and eager to greet him.

He ran his hands over her abdomen pressing here and there. Each palpation extricated wails of pain from Claire. Her vitals confirmed what he suspected. The blood pressure diving down as her pulse rose. She was hemorrhaging. The baby had to come out and he was going to have to go in. The problem, he was stocked and prepped for almost any emergency. But he couldn't do surgery in this limited environment. She needed a surgical suite, with units of spare blood on hand, a fully trained team to assist him, and the best nursing care afterwards.

There was no time to get her anywhere. And if he went in, he'd have to be quick. She'd never have more children. But, she'd live. There was only one other option, to seek the aid of the vampires. To do that, he'd have to deliver the baby and cut the cord first. Otherwise he couldn't guarantee what would happen as the healing blood of the vampires mingled with the baby's. "Claire honey, can you hear me?"

Claire's head was fuzzy. The pain was just a giant blur now, a throbbing, burning and aching surge. Weakly she nodded.

Grant clasped Claire's hand in his. Alarmed by the grim expression on Thomas's face. He was going lose his wife and possibly his son. "Help her"

Thomas readied the forceps and a scalpel. "I'm doing everything I can."

Hunter paced the halls. Sharing worried glances with Nash and the rest of the pack who had come out to support Grant and Claire. Claire's screams punched through his delicate hearing. Wails of agony and pain took him back to his wife and the birth of their daughter, the day she died bringing Mouse into the world. Even after so long ago, her voice was still clear in his head. The last twelve years of his life had been dedicated to his misery, begrudging the fact that he'd gone on and she had not. Her last instructions were simple. Should have been perfectly easy to follow. But, he'd let her down, denied her. She didn't have the strength to speak and no elaborate words were needed. "Live," she'd breathed before the hand of death reached down and plucked her away. "Live."

There were more pained screams, the clatter of strewn metal instruments hitting the floor, and angry male voices. Hunter pushed his way into the delivery room. Thomas's feet dangled above the floor. Grant's fist clutched Thomas's throat pounding the man against the wall. "You're killing her."