Dawn Redeemed

"Let's just say, I have a little family reunion of my own to attend, shall we?" O'Sullivan's unsheathed fangs glittered like white daggers in the dim light of the room. "Now, run along like a good little lad and I'll make sure Sis is well taken care of. We wouldn't want anything to happen to her, no would we?"

"No." David slammed the door behind him and tromped down the hall. O'Sullivan's minions slouched against the faded and tattered wallpaper idly watching him. Some sold their souls for much less than the life of a sister, much less. He couldn't take O'Sullivan by himself. The vampire was powerful and strong, damned near an ancient. Even if he did manage to kill O'Sullivan, he'd never get Theresa and himself out of here alive. The minions were loyal to O'Sullivan and would make sure of that. If he told Bianca or worse called the Sons himself, O'Sullivan would make good on his promise and kill Theresa.

The last time he saw her. She'd been barely twelve years old. So small and in need of protecting. He thought by cutting himself out of her life, he could protect her and his family from the darkness of this world. He hadn't, he'd only delayed its coming. Darkness had found its way home. He sucked in a breath as he heard the pop of fang through flesh and his sister's terrified, agonized scream. Cursing himself as his fangs slid free, enticed by the scent of her blood in the corridor.

"That's a girl. Don't be shy. Come now," O'Sullivan coaxed the delicate blonde peeking around the doorjamb forward. She was as fragile and beautiful as a daffodil frozen by a spring frost that would never end.

"Will I see Carter soon?" the blonde asked as she cautiously inched into the room. She hedged around O'Sullivan and stared hungrily at the woman's bleeding neck.

O'Sullivan licked his lips and nodded. "Very soon. I think."

Yessette was entranced by the girl's beauty. Blood ran in a crimson rivulet not so different from the color of the ruby she wore around her neck. "Oh, pretty," she gasped.

O'Sullivan inwardly cringed as Yessette drove her fangs into the girl's neck and fed with the voracity of a starving child. She was the only method of persuasion he truly had. His best kept secret and his damnation. Carter believed himself king of the damned. He was merely the prince. Eric had earned the title for himself long, long ago.





Chapter 67

Erica yawned and stretched. Her fingers stroked the soft strands of Fallon's hair gently. Sometime during the night, Fallon must have crawled into bed with her as she sometimes did. The bedroom was a glow with the soft morning light that filtered around the curtains.

"Morning sleepy head," Torr whispered softly. He tucked Erica's fingers into his palm and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss. Fallon was a lump tucked snugly under the blankets between them, snoring lightly.

"Hi," Erica mouthed, holding a finger to her lips to shush him. Fallon was a light sleeper and would wake at the drop of a pin. Last night this had seemed like such a good idea. She hadn't given much thought about how awkward the morning after would be, so much so with Fallon tucked in between them. Torr lounged on a heap of pillows, covers gathered in a messy wad at his waist. Shirtless, with his hair tousled by sleep, he looked like the poster boy for pure sex. Shyly, she slid her fingers out of Torr's grip and snuck out from under the covers. She needed a private minute to gather her self before she faced either one of them.

Cold water dripped off the end of her nose, washing away the numbness of sleep. What was she going to say to Fallon. She'd always vowed to answer all of her daughter's questions with absolute honesty. Exactly how was she going to explain this to a curious and way too observant ten year-old?

She dragged her fingers through her hair and tugged on the hem of her sleep wrinkled t-shirt. Vaguely, resembling a somewhat put together appearance, she gathered her courage and opened the bathroom door. The best course of action that she could think of was to answer only what Fallon asked and not volunteer any further information beyond that. Undeniably, Torr and she were together. Erica was trying to keep a level head on her shoulders and not make any assumptions beyond that. She wouldn't do it to herself and she wouldn't do it to Fallon. There weren't going to be any picket fences or visions of fluffy white wedding dresses dancing around like sugar plum fairies in her head. No way.

Fallon rolled over and pretended to be asleep. She was having a good time and

didn't want to leave. Once her mom realized she was awake. She would make her get out of bed, drag her back home, and take her away from her dad. Fallon wanted to spend the day with him. She wanted three of them to spend the day together as a family. Fallon felt the whisper of her dad's breath against her cheek as he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "What do you want for breakfast?"

She pretended to be asleep, stifling a smile as he lightly tickled the insides of her elbows. She bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling and spoil the game. "French toast," she whispered in reply.

"Ok," Torr said, tucking her tightly into the covers. "Go back to pretending to be asleep. I'll start breakfast." He slid out of bed and riffled through the drawers for a t-shirt to throw on.

Fallon scooted into the warm spot where his body had been and snuggled deep into his pillows. "Daddy," she whispered, "Mom likes coffee."

"Coffee, got it." Torr smiled down at Fallon. Playfully, he tugged on her toe as he walked past the foot of the bed. A part of him relished in the fact that Fallon didn't want to leave and a part of him regretted that she was being forced to be split between them. Kids lived that way all the time. Realistically, he knew this. In some small way, maybe it would help to bring Fallon and him closer together. Besides, he hoped the split was only temporary, until he could battle his way through Erica's defenses and win her heart.

Torr measured out the coffee and turned on the stove. Coffee makers were for the weak at heart. Nothing was better than freshly ground coffee percolated over an open fire in an old fashioned percolator. The gas stove in his kitchen would have to do.

Erica studied the man working furiously in the kitchen to round up the ingredients for what looked like French toast. "You don't have to do all of this. Fallon and I can hit a drive through on the way home. I was getting ready to wake her up." Erica dug in her purse for a dollar bill. "I owe you for a toothbrush." Awkward was not exactly word enough to describe the jumble of emotions running through her head. Awkward, embarrassed, vulnerable, and she really hated to admit it, but a teensy bit ashamed.

Torr swallowed his outrage and slid the bill back into Erica's front pocket. She smelled like him and of their sex from last night. That she had taken the time to scrounge in the cabinets for a toothbrush, but hadn't bothered to shower his scent off her skin told him more than the cold standoffish attitude she was throwing at him. She was running like a scared rabbit. Which made the predator inside of him even more resolute. "You don't owe me anything. Today is Sunday, let Fallon sleep in for a while," he said nonchalantly. "There's no need to be in a hurry. I've already started breakfast." He didn't mind playing dumb when the situation called for it. "I'm just not sure how a dozen broken eggs and a loaf of bread gets transformed into French toast."

Erica nudged Torr out of the way and dug through his cabinets, locking onto a bottle of vanilla extract and a shaker of cinnamon. "Mind if I help?" She asked sprinkling a generous amount of cinnamon and a dash of vanilla into the eggs.

"I can do it," Torr sputtered falsely offended. "I saw some short order cook in Hoboken make French toast... or was it waffles? Anyway, I can figure it out." He shrugged, "How hard can it be?"

Erica sipped the mug of coffee Torr thrust into her hand and leaned against the fridge. Watching as her man. Her man, what a strange concept that was, dipped the thick slices of bread into the sweet egg mix and dropped them onto the griddle. Someday, as soon as she could face it herself and worked up the guts, they were going to have a little talk about what they were to each other.

Sometimes it was hard for her to remember how different she and Torr really were at an elemental level. He had been brought up the son of a wealthy business tycoon. She'd been raised in a single parent household, barely scraping by from paycheck to paycheck. He could easily be living in a mansion up on some hill with a cook to prepare anything he wanted and servants to tend to his every whim. Yet, he lived simply and insisted on doing everything for himself, no matter how mundane the task. It boggled the mind to think that someday, her little girl would grow up to be an heiress.

Torr lifted the first golden brown piece of French toast onto his spatula and held it up for Erica's inspection. "What do you think?"

"Perfect." Erica inched up onto her toes and gave the upturned corner of his mouth a gentle peck. She eased down on her heels and gave him a shy smile.

"You can do better." Torr slid the finished pieces of French toast onto a plate and grabbed Erica around the waste. He pressed his lips against hers and flicked his tongue along their vermilion border until she granted him entrance. Her mouth was hot from the coffee, the sweet taste of cream and sugar thick on her tongue. At first, her response was a little hesitant and unsure. With a little patience, he'd managed to feel her body relax into his and her tongue slick along his with eager hunger. His lips curved across hers as he grinned. "Now that was a good morning kiss."

Erica blew out the breath she held and took the towering platter of French toast to the table. The man knew how to distract her. She had to grant him that. She hadn't heard Fallon tiptoe into the postage stamp sized dining room off the kitchen and take a seat at the table. "Good morning, Fallon," Erica stammered with embarrassment at being caught in the act.

"Good morning, Mom," Fallon answered politely. She tried to ignore that she'd walked in on her mom and dad kissing like they did on the soap operas she used to watch with her grandma. That kind of a kiss could mean only one thing. Her mom really, really liked her dad. Excitedly, she swung her legs over the end of the chair. If they liked each other that much, they might get married.

Erica busied herself by loading French toast and syrup on Fallon's plate. Doing her best to ignore the heated flush spreading like wildfire across her cheeks. Maybe if she pretended that kissing Torr a normal thing for her to be doing, Fallon wouldn't ask so many questions. Public displays of affection were a normal thing, but why did she feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar?

"How's the French toast?" Torr asked Fallon jovially. Winking at Fallon from behind Erica's back, he tended the last few pieces left on the griddle. He grinned when Fallon gave him a sly smile in return. He supposed that smile meant that he had her official seal of approval to court her mom.

"Good...," Fallon answered through a mouthful of hot, rich French toast and thick, sweet syrup. Greedily, she licked her lips and dug in for another bite, drizzling amber colored liquid in a thin trail across the table cloth as she brought the fork to her mouth.

Erica tore off a piece of paper towel and dampened it. She dabbed at Fallon's sticky chin and at Torr's tablecloth before she sat and took a bite from her own plate. "It's good," she said, dabbing at her own chin with the used paper towel.

Torr dug in triumphantly, the sweet syrup melted into a sugary coating on his tongue. "Humph, we really do make a good team."

Erica nodded and swallowed the bite in her mouth. "I have to admit, we do." She watched Torr and Fallon eat with unbridled zeal, devouring their plates and every scrap left on the serving platter. They were so much alike, in ways she'd only begun to realize. In a way, it was funny how similar Fallon was to her father, the two of them were like peas in a pod.

Erica couldn't shut up the nagging voice in the back of her head. Things were going too well. Instead of simply enjoying the happy time between the three of them. She worried. When would the state of grace end and when would the other shoe drop? Exactly, what was it that she wasn't seeing that would cause the world to come crashing down on her head this time?



Chapter 68

"You're hungry," Shayla stated. "You should go out to hunt." Carter's expression was pained from being in such close proximity to her. How long had it been since he'd melted into the woods to scare up some dinner for himself? He'd denied himself for days to stay by her side. He wouldn't allow himself to take from her, relying on his inner strength and whatever game he could scrounge up to sustain himself. His body and his control was beginning to weaken.

"I can wait a while longer," Carter insisted. He wished that if her sister was going to make an appearance, she'd get it over with. Out of necessity and lack of options, he'd gone longer between feedings than this. A few days was a piece of cake. Simple. Ah, yeah, not really. He and Shayla had been holed up in these two rooms for the last sixteen hours and her scent only made his hunger worse. At times like this, he envied R.J. suckling at his mother's breast with unbridled enthusiasm. Just a taste of her would take the edge off his hunger.

Shayla walked across the room to put R.J. in his crib, mindful of Carter's hungry eyes following her every step. "This is stupid. I'm plenty strong to feed the both of you. Sometimes, you treat me as if I'm made of glass." Shayla slid her braid across her shoulder and bared her neck. "I'm not."

Carter groaned as his eyes fixed on the bounding pulse point in Shayla's neck. The blood bond between them called to him. He slid out of the chair and crouched on the floor next to her, gently stroking her pulse with his fingertips. She was so warm and so alive. "I'll weaken you. You need your strength, for your son."

"If one of us is weak, so is the other. I can't watch your back and R.J's too. We don't have much time, so do this." Shayla spared a glance at the sunlight creeping in from behind the heavy curtains. Awareness prickled along her skin. Ruby was close, too close for Carter to be a weak link now. Shayla inched up the hem of the loose t-shirt she was wearing, revealing a gun holster. "I'm not defenseless."

Carter huffed and wrapped his fingers over Shayla's, guiding the t-shirt back into place. "Silver bullets?"

Shayla wrapped her fingers through his and pulled him closer. "Very funny," she sighed. "And to think, I didn't think ancient vampires watched TV." She turned her head and their gazes met. " The only way a bullet, silver or otherwise is going to stop her is if it hits her in the heart or the brain. Carter, I won't shoot to kill unless I'm left with no other choice. I don't want to kill my sister. I'm trusting you to make sure I don't have to."

Carter wrapped an arm around Shayla's waist and drew her in tight against him, pinning her arm snugly into his chest. He secured her free hand in his fist and nudged her head back with his cheek. Poised like a cobra, he struck hard and true, his fangs drove through her fragile skin like a knife through melted butter. A shudder of hunger rolled through him as the first drops of her sweet blood spilled over the back of his tongue.

Shayla fought the instinct to fight. She was a predator, not a prey animal and her wolf howled beneath her skin in outrage. There wasn't time for pretty words or the spell of his touch to work its magic. He needed fed. She shivered in his arms and felt his cheek working against the underside of her chin as he swallowed down the first gulp of her blood. Her blood flowed from her body in a red torrent into his. She was lending him her strength and her life to keep them safe.

The gray wolf slunk through the woods. Dapples of sunlight illuminated the shadows and the dense underbrush it used for cover. Exposed and vulnerable, the she-wolf hurried her pace to an almost careless speed.

The wolf perked his ears and dropped his head to the earthen floor beneath his feet. The cool morning breeze shifted slightly, bringing a whisper of new scents from the south to the wolf's nose. Fur the color of a ginger snap bristled as the wolf's nose locked onto the familiar, musky scent of his mate. Black lips curled up in a snarl, revealing a row of sharp white teeth. Tracking the scent, he trotted further into the underbrush.

Evan teetered on the chair, straining to reach the key pad to turn off the security system. He wanted to go outside and wait for his mommy. If he opened the door, the alarm would sound and the whole house would wake up. Usually by this time, someone was up starting breakfast and making the first of many pots of coffee. As it was, the house was unnaturally quiet, as if everyone else was waiting for his mom to come back too.

Straining on his tip toes, he stretched out a finger and punched in the sequence of numbers he'd watched the adults punch in countless times. The light on the control panel went from red to green. He was in the clear. His fingers wrestled with the deadbolt, finally it slipped back with a sharp little snick. The kitchen chair made a light scraping sound as he dragged it back into the dining room and put it in its proper place. With a hard tug, he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. The wood was cool against the soles of his feet as he padded across the boards and plopped down onto the porch, sitting to wait his vigil. His mom would be here soon.

Torr couldn't help the smile on his face as he took the clean plates and glasses from Erica's fingers and put them into the cabinets. Fallon was busily righting the silverware in the drawer. He was thinking of something he could say or do to keep them around for the rest of the day. Maybe a nice hike up to the bluffs for a picnic or something along those lines. The cell phone attached to his hip buzzed to life. He sat a clean plate on the counter as he reached to answer it. "Hello?"

Erica shut the empty dishwasher and casually. As if she weren't listening, she listened in to Torr's side of the conversation. She was hoping to figure out an escape plan. Otherwise she feared that Fallon and Torr would rope her into spending the day here. She really was glad that things were going so well, but between her fear of the other shoe dropping and the occasional moments of blushing embarrassment when her thoughts would wander to last night, she was ready for some space. Given Torr's responses, it seemed like she might get her wish.

Torr slammed his phone closed with a silent curse. The calls were one of many reasons he wasn't a pack master and hadn't declared any loyalty to a pack beyond casual friendship. However, he picked and chose who he'd be loyal to and to what extent. Eloise's pack was in trouble. And to Eloise, he was as faithful as a newborn pup. They'd gone through too much together for him to turn his back on her now.

"I'm sorry, Erica, Fallon. Something has come up and I've got to go...help out a friend." Spend the day traipsing around in the woods, furry and on all fours was what he was thinking. One of Eloise's pack members, a female, had gone rogue. The wolves and the Sons were out, searching on her. So far, they hadn't had any luck. The female had to be brought in and gotten under control before things got any worse.

Erica neatly hung a damp dishtowel over the edge of the sink to dry. "Oh no. I hope it isn't anything too bad." Inside she was practically chortling with delight. She had a brand new novel sitting on her nightstand and a sunny spot on the front lawn already picked out.