Dawn Redeemed

"Yes mommy, I do. Don't you?" Fallon glanced up from the game curiously at her mom. Her mom had that look on her face that she got when she was in deep thought. Fallon thought about the secret she shared with her dad and clamped her lips tightly together. She promised that she wouldn't tell. Even Aunt Leigh said some secrets weren't meant to be shared. She understood that this was a big, big secret and one better off in the hands of her dad. When he thought her mom could handle it, he'd tell her.

"Yes, I do."

"I can tell."

Erica studied Fallon's slanted grin. She could see so much of Torr in that smile. It was almost as if the two of them shared the same mind and the same thoughts and they were in cahoots about something. "Little girl, are you trying to set your mother up?"

Fallon giggled in a musical little girl laugh, "He makes you happy, double scoop chocolate ice cream happy."

Erica held a finger to her lips, shushing her daughter and her runaway imagination. Sometimes her kid was too smart for her own good and knew her mother just a little too well. It was natural, Erica supposed, for a little girl to want to see her mom and dad as a couple. But, she didn't want to build her hopes up. Right now things were going good. Their relationship was new. Just beginning to take those first baby steps on a tightrope. At any moment, the rope could break beneath their feet and it wouldn't just be Torr or her that suffered the damage, Fallon could get hurt as well. "Fallon, please don't set your hopes too high. Right now, we're just getting to know each other."

"Oh, I know." Fallon clicked the pause button and returned to her game.

She hadn't even thought of the fact that she had a secret that Torr would eventually find out if he stuck around long enough. For the moment, she'd managed to keep the secret from Fallon. Alex and her husband didn't come around at meal times. They might get away with skipping a helping of Aunt Leigh's famous fried chicken once, but Fallon would eventually get curious about why they never ate. Alex and Chance, and the others that Erica knew about were good at playing human, but they weren't human and there were tell tale signs that made that fact all too apparent.

When Fallon was old enough to understand, Erica would tell her. If Torr became a permanent part of her life. She would have to tell him too. He was too observant not to notice exactly how different Alex and the others were. What would he think when he learned the truth that vampires were real and that her cousin, her best friend, was one? Knowing about the vampires would put him on their radar. The secret was not to be shared. Alex had made that abundantly clear. Once she told him, there would be no going back.

Torr added a final brush of thick, sweet glaze to the chicken and flipped the breasts to sizzle on the grill for a few minutes longer. The evening was turning out better than he'd planned. Much better. He didn't have any intentions of entertaining company this evening, but couldn't be happier that a happenstance meeting had landed his two favorite girls right into his lap.

He had to get the visions of the white picket fence out of his head. If he were an ordinary guy and had half a chance at an ordinary life, he could pretend that he had a shot at the two kids, a SUV in the drive, and a dog named Rover. He wasn't ordinary and neither was his life. Hell, his wolf would probably eat the dog, or Fallon's would when the time came. He could buy the house and drive the obligatory SUV to soccer practice, but neither he nor Fallon would ever completely blend in well enough to hide what they were.

The more people got to know them. The more they noticed the differences. He schlepped about like a clumsy human when he could move with such grace and so silently that no one could hear him approach. He played at weak when he could easily rip a door right off its hinges. He turned on lights when he didn't need them. He sacrificed his true nature for the sake of conventionalism and for Erica. A wolf could wear a sheep skin, but underneath, it was still a wolf. Eventually, she would start to notice. Something would happen to give him away. He had to tell her before it did.

Torr arranged the grilled veggies around the chicken breasts in an artful display. The platter wasn't magazine quality, but it was passable for Saturday afternoon chow. Proud of his masterpiece he sat it down on the table next to the salad and announced supper. He let Fallon choose her seat, noting the little girl's cleverness as she took the single plate at the far side of the table and let him have the chair next to her mother. Fallon was as down with getting the two of them together as he was. He helped Erica scoot her chair in and sat down next to her.

The dark cloud of worry hovered over the table, but he pushed it away, determined to enjoy one normal afternoon with the women he loved more than life itself. Far too soon the storm would blow heavy clouds laden with truth in over the horizon and secrets would fall in an icy torrent. He had to ensure that these moments of ordinary life were enough to shelter them from the bitter cold of reality.

Chapter 63

Fallon tried to be as proper a lady as she could. Always making sure to use her napkin and keep her elbows high off the table. At home, manners were important, but not so much so. She picked her way through the salad and main course careful not to drop so much as a crumb on her shirt. Her mother and Torr were talking about boring grown up stuff and taking their time. Fallon was more interested in returning to her game than joining in. Triumphantly, the last bite slid down and the plate bare. In a very official lady like manner she folded her napkin and laid it across her empty plate. At home she would have hopped up, cleared her place, and returned to whatever she was doing before supper. "May I be excused?" she asked.

Torr was new to being a parent and looked to Erica questioningly for advisement.

Erica dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin and nodded. "Why don't you go play your game while I help Torr with the dishes?" She was proud of her daughter and the way she'd minded her P's and Q's at the dinner table. Fallon had been on her best behavior from the moment she'd walked in the door.

"Ok," Fallon beamed. "Do you want me to put my plate in the sink?" Her mom's smile told her how proud she was of her. The last thing Fallon wanted was to be the victim of some kid related mishap and accidentally break the plate or her empty glass carrying it to the kitchen and wreck it all.

"No, I'll get it," Erica said as she read the worried expression on Fallon's face.

Even though the volume was low, the sound of the video game with it's electronic bleeps and squeaks ended any chance of finishing her conversation with Torr. Erica gathered her napkin from her lap and crumpled it on her plate. "Torr, that was fantastic."

Torr chewed and swallowed down his last bite. "I'm glad you liked it." He pushed away from the table and swept Erica and Fallon's dirty plates away along with his.

Erica jumped to her feet and grabbed the leftover salad and the bottle of dressing, following Torr into the kitchen. "You cooked, I should do the dishes," she insisted. Torr shot her a disapproving scowl as he slid the salad bowl out of her hands and snapped the plastic lid down tight. She hovered over him, actually more in the way than helpful, while he rinsed the dishes and silverware and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Torr pulled the bottle of chilled white wine he'd bought at the Super Center out of the fridge. As domestic wines from grocery stores went, this particular brand was one of the few he found passable. He twisted the corkscrew and tugged as the cork wiggled out of the bottle with a little pop. Something good had been handed down from father to son after all. He poured a dribble from the bottle into a ornately carved crystal flute and sipped. He shared his father's appreciation of fine wine. "Join me on the swing," he said to Erica as he pulled a second flute out of the cabinet and filled it half way full for her.

Erica stalled for a minute. "I...we... really should be going," she said, nervously twirling a strand of hair in her fingers. She had planned on leaving before now. She hadn't planned on bumping into Torr in the first place. Her plans included a hot shower and curling up on the end of the couch with a book. "Fallon and I had ...plans for tonight."

Torr saw Erica's hesitation. Her cheeks were tinted pink with a nervous blush and she shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably. Gently, he reached out and closed his hands over her fingers, stilling them. "Fallon, do you mind changing your plans for this evening and sticking around for a while?"

Fallon didn't bother to glance up from her game to answer the question. "Fine by me." She'd just found the golden chalice and was on her way to the next round.

Erica slid her fingers free from his. A few stray strands of hair pulled free from her scalp with a sharp tug of protest when she lowered her hand to take the wine glass Torr slid into her hand. The flute wasn't as fragile as it appeared. The crystal was deeply engraved with twining vines and ornate roses. Heavy in her fingers as she twirled it and watched the golden liquid rock gently from side to side.

"C'mon," Torr said. He slid her free hand into his and led her out the patio doors. Two chairs sat on a bland stretch of concrete pad that was cracked and broken in places from the endless change of seasons from blazing summer heat to bone chilling winter snows. He had plans for this area, but had been a little too busy to put them to realization, yet. Someday, this backyard would be a blooming oasis, and this little concrete square, a teakwood deck covered by an overhead trellis thick with lush fragrant drooping flowered vines. For now, he had a brightly printed canvas covered swing and an impressive view of a weathered privacy fence.

Erica sat in the swing and slid as close to the edge as she could get. The sleepy neighborhood was draped in shades of golden-orange and pale purple as the sun reluctantly loosened its grip on the sky and sank lower and lower on the horizon. His fingers traced little circles on the inside of her palm and his thumb rested on the bounding pulse of her wrist. As if he were gauging her reaction to him by monitoring her heart beats. Maybe he was.

Gingerly, she sipped the potent wine. The flavor was like a blast of cool breeze on a hot summer's day; refreshing with the promise of something more. Her hair gently fluttered on the soft currents of air created by the whisper of the swing as it rocked back and forth. The smell of the oncoming summer, freshly mown grass, carnivals, sun, sand, and coconut oil, teased at her nose. Torr's free hand casually draped across the back of the swing. His fingers played with the curve of her shoulder and guided her into the crook of his arm. His cheek rested lightly on the top of his head. Erica sighed and curled her feet up underneath of her.

The silence between them wasn't one of those moments that had to be filled with words and idle talk. In fact, Torr was a man of few words and didn't waste them needlessly. Erica liked that about him. She liked that he didn't waste hot air trying to impress her with bullshit or half truths. What he said was honest, to the point, and very sincere.

There had been a few men in her time and the dates had been strained and awkward, always ending in little more than a peck on the cheek and a handshake. She didn't know how the guys felt, but she'd always felt, sort of like a circus monkey making its debut in the center ring. As if she was being forced to play a part that she didn't want to play for an audience that really was more interested in the treats at the concession stand than the main act.

With Torr, she didn't feel like that. She could be herself. He'd look at her the same way if she were wearing a tiara and a cocktail gown as he did with her in her cutoffs and an old, faded t-shirt. Erica appreciated that about him above everything else. She wasn't the tiara type and Torr was more than okay with that. The rest of their relationship was a wad of confusing emotions and thoughts. But, this part, just being with him, was so easy.

Torr felt Erica's body relax against him. Her breath was a tickle of warm breeze through the loose fit of his t-shirt. He was content to hold her and feel her curves mold along his body. Erica didn't know quite how to handle relaxing and letting her guard down. Every once in a while she'd fight it, take a deep sigh as if she were going to say something, and tense her muscles. He'd ease her with gentle strokes of his fingers over her shoulder and along the nape of her neck till she settled beside him.

Neighborhood streetlights shone down in scattered patches of white light across the backyard, pushing back the blackness of the oncoming dark. The sidewalks and neatly trimmed yards faded to quiet along with the light of day. Erica shifted her weight, aware of how precariously close to falling asleep in Torr's arms that she was and itched her first mosquito bite of the season. "I really should get Fallon home."

Torr released his grip from her shoulder. He could still feel the whisper of the soft hairs on the back of her neck against his fingertips. If Erica could have let completely go, she would have fallen asleep in his arms. He'd almost had her there, a couple of times she'd slid into a light doze. He followed her inside, gathering up the crystal flutes in his right hand.

Erica leaned against the kitchen wall and stared into the living room. Fallon was fast asleep, curled up comfortably on Torr's couch with a big, overstuffed pillow under her head. "She looks so peaceful. I hate to wake her up," Erica shook her head wistfully. "I'll never get her back to sleep when we get home."

"Don't," Torr said. He punched the remote and turned off the TV. "I think I can carry her to her room and put her into bed without waking her up." Carefully Torr slid his arms under Fallon's tiny body and lifted her gently. She stirred when he adjusted her weight in his arms. "Shh," he whispered against her forehead as he carried her down the hall with Erica following nervously behind. He slid down the covers and eased her down into them, tucking them around her shoulders. "Sleep well," he whispered. The nightlight he turned on cast a pale yellow glow across the carpet.

"I can sleep on the couch," Erica said. She wasn't going to leave Fallon here all night. Fallon didn't know Torr all that well and she was in a strange place. Torr was hardly prepared to take care of a hysterical ten year-old away from her mother for the first time, ever.

"No, I will." Torr headed to his room to find a pair of sleep pants and a spare blanket.

"No, I can," Erica protested. "I am not going to throw you out of your bed." She followed behind Torr to his room.

"You're my guest, it's my place," Torr ignored the insistent tugging on the back of his t-shirt and rummaged through the closet for an extra blanket.

"Its your home. Therefore, I get the couch." Erica snatched the blanket from Torr's hand. She exhaled in a huff when Torr snatched it back.

Torr ended the argument by spreading the blanket over his comforter and climbing underneath of it. He made a space for Erica by pulling back the comforter and sheets. "We'll share the bed. I'll sleep on top the comforter, you sleep underneath of it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Erica grumbled. "We're grown adults. We can share a bed and all of the blankets without pawing at each other like a couple of horny teenagers on prom night." Erica grabbed the end of the comforter and balled it in her fists. She jerked it out from underneath Torr in a hard series of pulls and tugs.

"Ok, ok," Torr chuckled. He wiggle wormed his way beneath the comforter and sheets and settled back against the pillows. Pleased when Erica crawled into bed beside him. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"

Erica fluffed her pillows with her palm and stretched across the bed. Torr's bed was a big king sized bed with slick, cool satin blend sheets the same blue color as his eyes. She landed a light kiss on the tip of his nose, squeaking in surprise when he grabbed her bicep and easily slid her body across the sheets. He planted his lips onto hers in a winner take all attack, working her mouth with long, determined, skilful strokes of his tongue. He released her abruptly, leaving her body tingling, her lips covered with the taste of him, and her head reeling.

Torr fluffed her pillow and eased her head back onto it. "Sweet dreams, Erica." Her heart pounded like the crazy flutter of humming bird wings against his chest. She could say no until it became a personal mantra, but he read her body's signals loud and clear and they were screaming, hell yeah! right along with his. Cockily, he rolled onto his back and folded his arms underneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Erica slid out of bed and inched the door closed. The latch caught with a light whispering snick. She was tired of these games. Tired of fighting against the one man that she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt could deliver her to places of pleasure that she had denied herself for far too long. Her body ached for him. And for the second time in her life she was going to let her body have its way.

Torr sucked in a breath as Erica tugged the t-shirt over her head and slid free of her bra. She didn't undress in a stripper's artful, teasing, way. But, he found watching her wiggle out of her shorts and panties the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. He watched as she laid her clothes on the nightstand in a neat bundle easily reached if Fallon should wake up. Wide eyed, and trembling with nervousness and urgency, Erica crawled onto the bed and under the covers he held open for her. "Erica," his voice came out of his throat in a deep, breathy, growl, "is this what you want?"

Erica shivered as Torr's hands smoothed over the bare skin of her rump and rested firmly in place on the curve. "I'm naked in your bed, and willing, isn't that what you want?"

Torr clamped his molars tight to trap the masculine growl of possession that echoed in his chest. Erica's hands trailed down past his belt line and traced the hard bulge beneath. "You're all I've ever wanted. But, one night will never be enough."

Erica tugged at the snap on his shorts and awkwardly lowered the zipper with her trembling fingers. "One night never is." Torr's hands were rough on the back of her neck, forcing her mouth to his in a fierce, possessive kiss that swallowed her whole. She inched his shorts and boxers down, freeing his erection and gripping the length with her palm. His body was tense, each muscle hard as steel as she stroked along his length. Fluttering sensations spread throughout her body moistening her core until it quivered with need and desire. He hadn't even touched her yet, but she was pulsating, wet, and ready for him.

Torr ran his fingers along the soft curve of her hip and slid them forward, gently brushing the triangle of curls between her thighs. The hair there was the color of cinnamon and soft as down. Her palm gripped his erection tight and her strokes became harder and more rapid as he inched his way through the light spackle of hair and probed gently in between her slick wetness. The sigh of passion that escaped her lips was like the sound of sweet music to ears long deprived of song.

Erica was so wet, soft and warm. Her palm more demanding on his shaft. If he didn't do something soon. They weren't actually going to have sex. They'd be done and sated before they ever got that far.

His fingers were slick with her silky moisture. Gently, he slid them free of her core and gripped her hip, rolling her onto her back. Her thighs eagerly opened for him and her back arched in invitation. He couldn't restrain himself for much longer. The wolf in his skin growled in approval and panted for him to take possession of their female and mark her. Her nipples brushed against his chest, creating an erotic sensation that he felt all the way down to his toes. Her softness wrapped around the head of his penis in a soft kiss of pleasure. He worked his hips into a better position and paused at her entrance. A predator didn't negotiate with the prey and didn't give second chances. He slid into her warm, wet depths. Grappling at the fragile thin threads of control, as he joined them male to female, bodies as one.