Dawn Redeemed

Erica swayed on her tiptoes, almost dangling against the height of his body. His hair was incredibly soft against her fingers. His mouth tasted of the rich, heady flavor of the wine. The pounding of his heart thrummed against her chest. For one minute, she wished they could go back to that night on the beach and indulge themselves the way they had then. She wished that she could lose herself in his heat, the warmth of the sand, and the pounding of the surf they way she had then. His hands traveled down from her waist and cupped around the curve of her butt, cupping a cheek in each hand. "I could stick around for a little bit longer," she mouthed against his lips.

"God, Erica," Torr whispered into her mouth. "You don't know how badly I want you to." His hands had a mind of their own. Exploring lands he'd only begun to discover, searching for her flesh underneath the folds of her skirt. How easy it would be to love her again, spelled by the promise of one stolen night in paradise. His lips nibbled down the lobe of her ear, traveling lower across the curve of her neck to the thin spaghetti strap holding the bodice of her dress in place. His palms found what they were searching for and wrapped around the soft, warm, silkiness of the backs of her thighs, slowly working their way up. "Tell me what you want."

Her whole body screamed, every inch of flesh, every last fiber of her being shouted in unison, telling her what she wanted. Him. Only. Him. His hands on her skin. His mouth over hers. His warmth fusing with hers. She shivered at the sensation that spread outward from her core down to the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She could blame it on anything she wanted to, the long dry spell, an after effect of the wine, just the overwhelming memory of the past they shared, but it was all him, not the past, not the wine, only him. Tell him what she wanted? She wanted him, all of him.

Her head rolled back when his fingers slid under the sleek satin panties she chose for tonight. Usually, she was a one hundred percent wash and wear cotton kind of girl. Not this evening though. She'd rummaged through the still packed boxes and found the sexiest underwear she owned. Seemed like the choice might pay off. His fingertips made hot trails of pure delight as they skimmed intimately over the bare flesh of her butt. So close. So damned close.

"Please, Erica, tell me I can touch you, please." He didn't have to use his inner wolf to tell him exactly how much she wanted him. The air was tinted with the musky scent of her desire. Her skin was flushed a brilliant pink by the blood rushing through the capillaries near the surface. He traced a wet trail with the tip of his tongue down the line of her throat and breathed out one last request for permission.

"Yes," Erica weakly mouthed, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. His fingers slid along the curve of her butt, edging along the tender, delicate skin of her sex beneath the scrap of fabric. The angle was awkward, but he managed to pull it off. Just the merest, most gentle brush was enough to extract a deep throaty moan from someplace inside of her that she'd ignored for far too long.

Torr tried to be gentle and slow. Inside his sex drive was roaring like a beast that had been caged and starved for so very long. He wanted to rip those tiny panties off her body and bury his head in between the softness of her thighs and lap up every last drop of moisture until she made more for him. She was so very wet and so tight, clamping her muscles down around his fingers as he dipped them inside of her. He used the pad of his thumb to caress the blooming nub at the apex of her sex as he worked her with his fingers. She was precariously balanced on one leg, the other wrapped around his to give his hand more space to work. She leaned on him for support. His shirt gripped in her fists as they tried to find an anchor from the onslaught of sensation he brought to a peak in her body. "Erica, I didn't bring you here for this."

"I know," she panted. "Trust me, I didn't come here for this." Torr wove a spell with his fingers and his lips. She let him wind its silky threads around her, captivating her body and her being in a wave after wave of sheer pleasure. He pushed the top of her bodice down with his cheek and nuzzled her nipple through the lace of her bra. So good. Neither one of them might have had this in mind at the start of their date, but it felt so good, too good to stop. His breath came out in a short, startled puff as she traced her hand down his chest and found the head of his penis, bulging against the waistband of his jeans. He was hard, full, and ready, so thick and long against her palm.

Torr wiggled out of her grip and dropped onto his knees, worshiping her with his eyes, hands, and mouth. With a finger, he slid the panties to the side and dove in, stroking the wet silk of her walls with his fingers. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, drawing him into the curve of her breasts. He loved one nipple and then the other through the thin layers of her bra. He pumped into her with his fingers, pretending and wishing that he was doing the act with a different appendage instead. He could wait on that. For now, at this moment, he was enjoying feeling her body spasm against his, the heat and sweetness of her breath ruffling the ends of his hair, and the damp musky fragrance of her approaching orgasm draping him with its heady allure.

Erica's knees gave out when the orgasm she hadn't planned on and couldn't have begun to control if she'd wanted to, ripped through her body. Her walls gripped his fingers in a tight spasm of pleasure, holding him tightly inside of her. Her weight rested against him. His warmth, his scent, his satisfaction at bringing her to completion flooded her. With strong, well muscled arms, he supported her weight, cradling her as he gently laid her on the carpet and stretched out beside her. Playful, soft, gentle lips showered her cheeks and mouth with a series of nips and kisses. She felt great, better than she had in a long, long time and so relaxed in his arms.

Erica had one leg draped over his, her foot wedged between his thighs. Her body was nestled in the warmth of his. One of his big hands casually toyed with her curls as the other gently traced the outline of her mouth. He stared down at her and she stared up to meet his eyes. He had the most goofy, utterly satisfied, but silly smile on his face. Almost as if he'd felt every stroke and brush of his fingers against her, as if she'd given him the same pleasure he'd given her.

The shrill jangling of a cell phone shattered the blissful moment between them. "I've gotta get that," Erica said as she untangled herself from Torr's arms and legs. Her knees were still too wobbly to support her and she clumsily crawled across the carpet to grab her phone. After a minute of riffling through loose Kleenexes, stray ink pens, bits of lint, and a couple of empty candy wrappers, and a tampon, she found her phone and answered it. "Hello?"

Torr could only hear bits of the other end of the conversation. He recognized the child like voice on the other end, Fallon. While Erica wasn't looking, he stole a brief second to readjust his throbbing erection into a more comfortable position. He saw the emotions shift across Erica's face like clouds across an otherwise perfect sky. He saw affection and love as she spoke to Fallon. He saw a twinge of regret too. Not over what they'd done or what they didn't get to do, yet. What a heel, he could have played Mr. Romance and at least swept her into his bedroom. Mentally, he kicked himself, what a jerk. Luckily, Fallon had called when she did and saved the day. Otherwise her mom and he would have ended up with some nasty carpet burns.

Erica snapped the cell phone closed and stuffed it back into her purse. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her bottom lip. Torr was already on his feet, tucking his shirt into his jeans and running a hand through the wild disarray of curls. "That was Fallon, I've... I've gotta go. I'm...sorry. She's wanting me to read to her before she gets tucked in." She self-consciously smoothed down her hair with a palm and straightened the straps of her dress.

"Completely understandable." Torr bent and picked up Erica's purse, handing it to her.

"You're not mad?"

"No, why would I be mad?" He grinned as he saw Erica's heated blush spread across her cheeks when she glanced at his slightly deflated but still bulging zipper. He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. "Erica, I'm not THAT much of a guy. I will survive."

Erica relaxed into his strong embrace and wrapped an arm around his waist, hugging him back. She felt a little guilty that she was leaving him in somewhat of a predicament. Grateful that he understood that Fallon had to come first, but still a little guilty that it was her fault he'd be walking funny for a couple of hours.

"Give you a ride home?"

Erica didn't hesitate to answer. "Sure."



Chapter 29

The sky outside of the window was the gray black that happens after a long, brilliantly sunny Midwestern day. Evan pressed his nose to the glass, looking out into that sky as his mother tromped across the gravel below. He didn't go downstairs to tell her goodbye. He couldn't say goodbye. Even for his meager years, he understood how permanent goodbyes could be. He tried to force a smile on his lips and waggled his fingers in a little wave when he saw her look up at his bedroom window.

He didn't know what he was supposed to think or how he was supposed to feel. If someone were to ask him. He'd say that he felt as if a piece of his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

He heard big footsteps, the footfalls of his father's boots cross the floor behind him. Big, strong arms lifted him and crushed him against the wall of muscle of his father's side in a tight hug. He latched on to his dad, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist and lacing his arms tightly around his neck, afraid to let go. They were so much more than what they had been at the start of the day. Then they were buddies and pals. Now, his oversized playmate and best friend, had transformed into a tower of strength and will that would provide him refuge till the storm clouds lifted and he saw the sun again.

Hanning rubbed his cheek against Evan's baby fine black hair and squashed every bit of rage that boiled inside of him. He wanted to take his fist and smash the window to bits. Shower a rain of broken glass and splintered wood down on Ruby's head. He wanted to curse her till he had no breath left. He felt the sting of his little boy's tears dampen his collar. He turned his son's head away so that he wouldn't have to watch her pull out of the drive and away from the wreckage she'd made out of their lives.

Ruby ducked into the backseat and readjusted the haphazard pile of suitcases she'd packed to restart her life when she saw Hanning appear in Evan's bedroom window. She knew she was breaking their hearts. She didn't expect Evan to understand. He was just a little boy. But, she'd expected more out of Hanning. A bit of understanding might have been nice. She'd tried to love him, she really had. Now that the truth was out. There was no turning back. Her mind was made up. And she had to do what she had to do.

She slid behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror. As for Hanning, let him stay behind and forge his alliances with these people. Maybe he could find some happiness in this place. For her, there was none here. She put the van into gear and pulled out. No more looking into the past, not one more backward glance. For her, life was full steam ahead. The next time she saw her son would be when she returned to take him home to the life she was planning to build for the both of them. Him and his little cousin, R.J. Once Hanning and Shayla saw how happy her family was, then they'd understand. Hell, they might even thank her for it.

"Shayla this is all my fault!" Carter flinched as soon as he raised his voice. R.J. stopped suckling and gave a shrill little cry over having his dinner disturbed. He watched Shayla lovingly cradle the back of the tiny head and settle his mouth over her breast while she scowled up at him.

"No, it isn't." Shayla rocked R.J. and cooed lovingly down at him while he drank. "What makes you think it's your fault that my sister is totally off her rocker and obsessed with my dead husband?"

"I tried to warn you that there would be consequences to our actions."

"I don't consider them consequences," Shayla replied as she positioned R.J. on the bed and snapped up her nursing bra. "My sister has issues that have nothing to do with you."

"Perhaps the blood bond between us is clouding your judgment."

"Don't give me any of that mystical vampire crap. I can do without it right now. A part of me honestly thinks that you could blame everything that happened last night between us on the damned blood bond instead of facing the truth."

Carter crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall of Shayla's borrowed quarters. "And what truth would that be? I let my blood, your blood, overrule my common sense and look at what it's gotten you. Shayla, I can't cause you anything but pain." he stared at the floor instead of meeting the anger in her eyes.

"The truth is that you love me and that scares the hell out of you. The fact that I love you back frightens you more than any dark nightmare you could conjure up. We are bound together, not by blood, but by love." Shayla gently got up from the bed, careful not to shake R.J. awake and walked across the room. She stood toe to toe with the big bad vampire and looked up into his eyes. "Carter, why does love frighten you so much? What happened to make you so afraid?"

Carter held out his hands and stared down at them. His fingers were long, perhaps if his life hadn't been what it was, they might be the hands of a skilled surgeon who brought life into the world, or those of a musician who filled the world with the joy of his song. Instead, these hands brought death and pain, centuries worth of agony. "You see these hands?"

"Yes, I see them."

"I've never done one good thing with these hands." He spread his fingers wide and curled them up into fists. "These hands have ended hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. I've lost track long ago. Shayla, you deceive yourself into thinking that these are the hands of a lover. No, these are the hands of a murderer. These hands can bring nothing but destruction. Yet, you caress them so tenderly."

Shayla took his big hands in her small ones and laced her fingers through his. The nails were pale, almost iridescent in the dim light of the room. The palms deeply creased with years of wear. The fingers smooth as silk and soft to the touch. "These hands that you claim are capable of such atrocities are also capable of great love."

She pressed his fingertips to her heart. "This heart beats because of you. My son, his heart beats because of you. You say they bring only death, but they delivered my son and myself from death's icy grip. I've felt the love that these hands are capable of and I'll never fear them or the man to whom they belong." She gripped his hands and turned them palm side up. Slowly, she bent and pressed a kiss first to the left one and then to the right. "Keep my kiss safe," Shayla said as she turned her eyes to his and curled his fingers into fists.

Carter stared down at their co-joined hands. Her hands were darker skinned and dainty, almost fragile compared to his large, clumsy paws, so pale they looked as if they were carved from marble, cold and immovable as a statue's. She was life and he was still as the grave. The place on his palm where she'd laid her magic kiss was damp and warm against his skin. A tear fell against the perfection of her tiny fingers, and then another. The tears streamed together to form a trail that glistened with a diamond's hard facets down their intertwined fingers.

"To love you means that I have to love every part of you, both the good and the bad. I have to accept who you are and who you've been."

"What if I'm still that man?" Carter slid Shayla's hands free and balled his back into fists. Trapping the warmth of the kiss she'd pressed to his palms.

"A part of you wants to be. That man is easier to be isn't he? He's safer, for you."

"But not for you."

"No." Shayla stretched up onto her tiptoes and pressed her fingers to his cheeks. Gently, she wiped away the tracks of his tears with her thumbs, catching beads of teardrops on the pads.

Carter rested his hands on her upper arms. He meant to push her away and slink back into the dark corners where he felt safest. His feet wouldn't budge. The press of her body against his, the warmth of her hands on his cheeks, rooted him in place. "I want to be that man, for you."

"Be that man for yourself. I know who you are. Carter, I'm not in love with some illusion of who I want you to be. I'm in love with you." She flexed her fingers, drawing him down to meet her lips. All her kisses were his. Each and everyone belonged to him, all his for safekeeping.

Chapter 30

Torr pulled up into the gravel lane and slid the truck into park, "I hope you had a good time tonight."

Erica blushed as the living room curtains parted open for a peek and spilled yellow light across the dark yard. "We've got an audience." Fallon's tiny figure was squished between her uncle's big frame and the window. She intently watched them with her nose pressed to the glass. Yeah, they had an audience all right.

Torr chuckled and scooted in closer, drawing her closer against his the line of his body with a strong arm. "Well, let's give them something worth their trouble." He ran a finger along her jaw and guided her face in for a chaste kiss. Nothing too wild with the impressionable little girl and her nosy uncle watching.

Erica's blush heated as Torr's lips brushed against hers. The cab of the truck was dark as the night around them. Her uncle and her daughter couldn't see what she was doing out here, but it didn't seem to matter. "I've gotta go," she whispered against the outline of his mouth.

"I'll pick you up in the morning and take you to your car." Torr took his time reaching across Erica's body. Innocently, casually, he brushed his arm across the swell of her breasts as he pulled the handle and pushed open her door. A gentleman would get out and hold the door open, help her climb out of the truck, but she wouldn't trust it. She was suspicious where he was concerned and he'd just barely given her a glimpse into the tangle of his psyche. Erica was a liberated woman. She'd resent the gesture more than she'd appreciate it.

Erica had a thousand reasons to say no to his offer to pick her up in the morning. Just two of those reasons were gawking out from behind the curtains at her. Eventually, if they became an item. She'd have to introduce Torr to the family. Hell, she had to anyway. The sooner she dealt with the uncomfortable introduction the better. He was in her life. He was in Fallon's life. No excuses, no exceptions, for better or for worse Torr was already a big part of her life. She couldn't avoid the eventual forever. "You want to come in for a minute? Get it over with?"

"Get it over with?"

"Introductions," Erica explained painstakingly. "See if you pass inspection."

Torr grinned triumphantly. The offer was more than he'd expected. "What will you say to Fallon? What am I to her at this point?"

Erica bit her lip pensively. He had to go straight to the hard questions didn't he. What was he? How to introduce him to Fallon. His past in her present was still too new to just spring the news on her family. "Mommy's good friend, for now, I think."