Dawn Redeemed

Erica hopped out of her chair. "Let me see you to the door." She shot a firm warning scowl over her shoulder at her uncle. The look she hoped told him that she wanted a few minutes alone with Torr and she didn't want any witnesses.

Once they were out of view from the kitchen, Torr slid Erica's hand into his. "I'm glad you invited me in. You've got a nice family."

"Thanks. I was worried that my uncle would be too hard on you." Torr's fingers were light on her wrist, resting against the bounding pulse point below her thumb. She felt the blood racing through her veins in response to his touch, and so did he.

"Nah, he's just very protective of you. No harm done." Torr slowed as they came to the front door. Gently, he pulled on her hand and guided her body against his. There were no demands in his gesture. He was hoping for a lengthy goodnight kiss, but he'd settle for this and maybe a hug.

"I'm glad you two hit it off so well. My uncle is a hard man to impress."

"I wouldn't say we hit it off well, but we understand each other," Torr answered. Slowly wrapping his free hand around her waist he drew her close for a snuggle. Erica might not want to kiss him with her aunt and uncle just a hallway away.

"That's progress where he is concerned. Trust me." Erica leaned into Torr and lifted her face to his. As embarrassed as she was that her aunt or worse, her uncle might walk in on them, she wanted a goodnight kiss. She wanted to climb into her bed with the lingering sensation of his mouth on hers and his scent on her skin.

Torr bent and pressed his lips to Erica's. The kiss was brief and more friendly than he would have liked, barely beyond a brush of mouths. "I had a good time tonight."

"I did too." Erica clung to his waist, savoring the hard press of his body against hers. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"About six. I have to be back in time to take Fallon to school." Her skin goose pimpled when Torr slid his arms from around her waist and disentangled their tangled limbs.

"Why not let me pick you both up and drop her off then take you out to breakfast before we get your car?" His body ached for her in a way he hadn't felt since the last time they were together, far too long ago. Could his body remember her they way his heart had? He was willing to test the theory and find out.

Erica blushed and bit her lip. "Fallon isn't going to school, not officially, tomorrow. She got into a scuff with one of the other girls and got suspended for the rest of the week. She's going to a friend's house for home schooling so she doesn't fall behind." She wanted Torr to think that Fallon was a good girl, not a juvenile delinquent. She didn't entirely trust him yet, and he might think that she was a bad parent and use it against her.

"Its very hard to be the new kid in town, especially in a town of this size. Fallon is a good kid. She'll adjust in time. She's got you as a mother to help her out. She'll be fine." Torr reached for Erica and gave her a hard squeeze, pinning her against the length of his body. So much better, holding her close eased the ache in his heart. The brush of her hip stirred other things, but she felt so right close to him.

Erica wrapped her arms around Torr's broad shoulders and stood on her tiptoes, returning the hug. "Ok, if you're ok with going out of your way a bit. Pick us up at seven." Erica sank her weight onto her heels and unwrapped her arms from around his neck. "You'd better go before Uncle Alexander wanders out of the kitchen." She balanced her weight against his upper arm and rose up to give him a light peck on the cheek. The stubble from his beard was rough against her lips. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Erica." Torr eased the screen door closed behind him and walked across the porch. He hit his key fob and started the engine. Casting one glance over his shoulder, he waved at Erica through the glass in the front door. Truth was supposed to build a couple together, not destroy them. He was running out of time and options. Too many people knew his secret to keep it a secret for much longer. He had to tell her everything. There was no way to escape the truth forever.

Erica watched Torr's truck pull away and the tail lights melt into the inky darkness. She knew she was grinning like a fool and she didn't care. For the first time in a long time, she felt the stirrings of romance deep within her bones. She had earned the right to enjoy the giddy sensation that tingled from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair without explaining anything to anybody. She'd deal with her uncle and her aunt, probably Alex too, in the morning. For now, she wanted some time to herself. "Goodnight Aunt Leigh, Uncle Alexander," she called over her shoulder as she made a beeline to her bedroom and shut the door before the first question could be uttered from their mouths.

"Do you think she'll be ok?" Leigh asked as she gathered up the stray mugs and dumped their cold contents into the sink. Alexander had switched the decaf in the canister for the good stuff...again. She felt the buzz of caffeine jolt her system and cursed the late hour. She made a mental note to switch out the coffee in the morning before Alexander got out of bed. That shouldn't be a problem. Just that little half a cup she'd drank would keep her up all night.

Leigh had always wanted more for her family than she'd had for herself. She wanted Alexander to live a long and happy life. She wanted Alex to be happy. The long life part had kind of taken care of itself. For Erica, she'd hoped the paranormal would never touch her or Fallon, but it seemed inescapable. One look at Torr and Leigh had known his secret and Fallon's as well.

She wasn't deeply involved with the pack. There was some recipe swapping, a few weddings and cookouts she'd attended, and some crochet tips Nana had shared with her. But, they'd never really interacted beyond anything other than the cordial level. From what she knew of the wolves they were loyal, fierce, and occasionally violent, but violence just went along with the paranormal world. Maybe, it was in the blood. This draw to the darker side of life. She'd been serving the Sons for decades, as her parents, and her parents' parents had, and back and back for generations had. For Alexander, it had been the same. There had always been a Beauchamp and a Gray in the brotherhood for as long as anyone in the family could remember.

Alexander jealously guarded the half a cup of coffee left in his mug. Caffeine never affected him. He'd be sleeping like a baby the minute his head hit the pillow. Leigh would be up all night. He thought about tucking the canister under his pillow for safekeeping. By now she'd figured it out. That he'd done the old switch-a-roo and changed the decaf for the dark roast he so loved. By morning she would have changed it back and he'd be drinking that awful, bitter, watered down decaf again. He was spending a fortune in coffee, switching it out and almost being brought to tears when she dumped the unused grounds on her prize roses.

His Leigh was a stubborn woman. Strong and unbendable as iron. Exactly the kind of woman he wanted for his wife. A marshmallow of a woman wouldn't have lasted ten minutes in the reality of his world. He'd never had to worry about keeping secrets from Leigh. She already knew them, lived them, and was inexorable part of them.

His sister wasn't made of the same stout stuff as Leigh. She'd fallen in love with the wrong man, gotten pregnant, and in the process of trying to change him ended up broken hearted. Mark believed he was destined for a life in the brotherhood. He trained day and night in preparation for the trials. Janie argued, god, how she argued with him. She didn't want this life, the small town, the brotherhood, or her place in the paranormal world, for herself or her unborn baby. Mark had big dreams and big ambitions of becoming a warrior. He was unstoppable in his quest. He loved Janie and the baby, but he loved what he believed was his destiny even more.

Destiny had a funny way of playing tricks on people. Mark descended from the Great Father's family line. He had every reason to believe he could undergo the trials and take his place in the brotherhood. And if he'd listened to Janie and to the Great Father, he would have had a place. Being a donor just wasn't how he wanted to serve. Even his brother, John Mark's father, had tried to stop him. Mark wasn't having any of it though. He tried to undergo the trials and he failed. One poorly executed foot fall in the wrong place at the wrong time had ended all his dreams. Just one wrong step and it was over. The brothers tried to save him. But, once again, the bitch better known as destiny, had the last laugh.

Mark had spent years training before the fatal accident claimed his life. Erica had been born and was toddling by the time it happened. If she had any memories of her father at all they were gray and faded, blurry images of a man who loved her, but loved himself and his ambitions just a little more. Janie chose to blame the brotherhood rather than tarnish her memories of Mark. She was gone for Washington D.C. the following spring. She'd meant to save Erica from the pain she'd suffered and thought to shield her from what might be her destiny later on down the road.

There were so many things done that had never been undone between Alexander and his sister. So many things they could have said to bridge the gap that had formed between them. But, prideful as they'd been they hadn't said them, always believing there was time to say them later. That hadn't happened either. His sister was gone. And destiny, it seemed, had found Erica anyway.

Alexander understood that sending Erica here summer after summer was his sister's way of saying what she couldn't say. And their occasional trips to Washington D.C, the birthday and Christmas cards Leigh sent and he signed were his way of doing the same thing in return. In the end they'd both been fools. Taking too much for granted instead of either one of them being the first one to cave.

Erica was here now. Doing her best to carve a life for herself and Fallon in the little town where it'd all began over thirty years ago. Alexander didn't begrudge his sister for the choices and the mistakes she'd made. How could he? He'd made damn plenty of his own. He'd kept his share of secrets over the years. Perhaps, Mark's death was still a raw wound after all these years and that was why he'd tried to protect Alex from the burden of the secrets he kept.

Alexander cherished his niece and his great niece almost as much as he did his own daughter and Leigh. Erica was shamed by her failures. Alexander didn't see her mistakes as failures. He saw them as destiny putting her in her proper place and aligning the hand of fate. Torr was what he was. There was no changing that and denial wouldn't stop what was meant to happen from happening.

He grieved for the life Fallon had ahead of her and Erica as a consequence of being her mother. Sometimes, he held the same trepidation for Alex. The paranormal world was not easy to be a part of. Life was long and sometimes, it was hard. And for beings that lived as long as Fallon and Alex probably would, having to say goodbye to those not so blessed or cursed in the life department would be the hardest thing they'd ever have to do. To live in the world and never truly be part of it, to change so slowly in a world that changed in the blink of an eye, he'd never wish that on anybody. Alexander felt a pang of sorrow for the ones who had chosen such a life.

Fallon wouldn't have the choice that the brothers had. She was born into this life. He sipped from his mug and let the mouthful roll over his tongue, considering how to answer Leigh's question. Did he think Erica was ok? Did it matter if she was ok or not? Not really. "I don't think she has any choice. None of them do," Alexander answered grimly as he stared out the kitchen window into the darkness of a moonless night.

Chapter 31

O'Sullivan turned his back on the picturesque view of the city to keep an eye on the shapely brunette seductively lounging across the gleaming cherry wood desk behind him. He was not in his home turf and had to keep his anger in check. A momentary lapse of reason might get him killed. As old as he was, he was out numbered by sheer force and far from immortal. "Where is your master? I've come all this way to pay tribute to him and find that he has left the circus to the clowns." He bowed low and grinned. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

Bianca rolled her eyes and crushed out her cigarette in the heavy crystal ashtray on the desk. "Really O'Sullivan, you're such a bore." She made sure that the red silk shift revealed a seductive length of leg and the heave of her large breasts. "I told you Carter is on vacation. What more do you want me to say?" She turned her attention to her nails and buffed them casually on the hem of her dress, hiking it up to give Eric an eyeful in the process. "I am his second in command. I'll be happy to accept any tribute you wish to offer on his behalf."

O'Sullivan was no fool and the excuses she made for Carter wouldn't deter him in the least. O'Sullivan was used to being in command. People paid him tribute, not the other way around. Bianca kept up her cool, aloof appearance. Deep down, she was scared shitless. Convincing the Sons that the Guardians didn't need a babysitter in Carter's absence had taken more than just a few words and light promises. She was in charge, of all of their lives and the life of every human soul in the city below. Not a task to be taken without care. If she failed, she failed more than just herself, she failed them all.

O'Sullivan's surprise visit couldn't have come at a worse time. She had every reassurance that Carter was recovering. If O'Sullivan hadn't picked now to show up. She could have kept the Guardians functioning per their efficient status quo until his return. Now, she wasn't so sure. O'Sullivan was more than physical temptation in an expensive pin striped Italian suit. He offered a return to the life that none of the old ones had ever truly forgotten and the young ones had never lived. A return to the old ways of blood, not just for sustenance, but in excess.

Bianca dropped her leg and swung it off the side of the desk. She'd been dealing with men exactly like him for centuries. There was only one thing that diverted their attention more than the promise of fresh hot blood and that was sex. The spiked heel of her shoe made little scraping noises as it brushed across the wood. She ran her tongue over her extended fangs, watching him follow the pink tip glide over the points with hungry eyes.

They'd been playing this game for far too long. Believe it or not, she was trying to protect Carter. She fed Eric information, bits and pieces, just enough, but never too much. His presence here was just a formality intended to shake the Guardians up. And it'd had the desired effect. Tension rippled through the entire group. Eric had sired her into this world. He'd taught her how to play the game all too well. She unfastened the pins holding her dark hair in place and let it tumble over her shoulders. He'd fathered her for her beauty and, ever the fool, was no more immune to it than any other male she'd ever encountered. Carter called her beautiful death and she was. "I'd like to request a tribute that I think Carter would be less than impressed with. He doesn't like men, but I do."

O'Sullivan shook his head. Bianca was a beautiful thing. Lethal. Powerful. Self-serving. She knew how to use the body she'd been given to its fullest extent. He knew she was lying to him. Carter wasn't on any damn vacation in the Bahamas soaking up the son. His progeny was close. Not in the city, but close. Eric could feel Carter through the link in their blood. Bianca believed what he expected her to. He told her just enough to foster the falsehood, but never of his true motives. Of course, he was bent on conquest, just not the conquest she'd wrongly assumed. He could give a damn less about the city or the humans and vampires in it. He wanted one thing and one thing only and soon enough he'd get it. He could sense through his link with Carter that not only was the man nearby, but he was close, almost ripe for the picking.

He watched Bianca display her wares. When one lived to be as old as he had. Sex was for pure pleasure. Nothing more than an escape from a weary world. He'd gotten over female or male in terms of preference long ago. He cherished beauty in all its forms. "How did you ever get to be second in command, Bianca?" Eric ran his eyes along the curve and peaks of flesh draped in sleek red silk. Bianca's perfect skin was pale and so white, it was almost ivory. As if it were marble carved by a master craftsman's hand. Her hair pooled onto the desk in a spill of soft, rich, deep colored ebony. Her body was pure sin in a silk wrapper. He had chosen well when he made her.

"I'm good at what I do," Bianca replied. His hands ran along the bare flesh on her thighs, trailing a slow and long path upwards. The look Eric gave her was full of male interest and desire. She snaked her hand along his chest and reached up to pull his hair from the gold hasp holding it tightly against the nape of his neck. Eric was a slight man, barely medium built. Lean and narrow in the shoulders, his body was tone and the muscles beneath the expensive shirt lacked definition. His face was a mix of harsh planes and a rigid nose that ended at a sharp point. His eyes were green/gold in color and the mix of tones was not appealing, but rather gave them a cold almost calculating sheen. His lips were thin and drawn into a sneer. He didn't want to want what he'd created, but he did. His hair fell in a shower of tawny ringlets over his shoulders.

Eric was not a beautiful man by any means, but it was the power that surrounded him that he could mold into something more beautiful than a physical exterior that drew others to him. Whatever devil that had created him had compensated him well for his lack of physical beauty. His cock was thick and long, perfect in form. Eric was a relentless lover. He gave and he gave plenty. The were good together. Fashioned, as it were, from the same cloth. Their mutual hatred, mistrust, and revulsion of one another made for most interesting bedfellows.

"As I recall." O'Sullivan shook out his hair and lifted his hand from her thigh long enough to remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Bianca and he had shared a bed many, many times before. The old days were like that. Vampires played games with one another. Vampires were brutal and less civilized than the humans they'd once been. Manipulating one another for position and for control of territories through any means possible, including sex.

Bianca wasn't powerful enough to stand alone. She was clever and shrewd. But, she'd never quite managed his level of ruthlessness. In some ways she was colder than he'd ever be. He used people. He used sex. But, when he killed, he made damn sure to look his victim in the eye. His enemies knew death was coming for them. With Bianca, it was wise to watch your back and any other vulnerable parts. She wasn't above doing anything to get what she wanted. And when she delivered death. It was subtler and covert. She'd fuck a man seven ways from Sunday and slit his throat while he was still between her legs.

Bianca laughed in a light, high toned feminine trill intended to seduce. "I've learned a few things since then." Eric's mouth was strong and commanding against hers. To him, possession was everything. His ambitions knew no limits. She softened her lips against his and shuddered into the demanding press of his fingertips into her flesh. She damned herself with that first kiss and brush of flesh against flesh. At one time, his touch alone would have thrilled her. Now it only disgusted her. He had survived by sheer will of his aspirations for so very long. Time hadn't changed him a bit. Those that couldn't adapt and change with the times, eventually got themselves killed. And she knew his time was coming. She just had to wait him out.