Dawn Redeemed

Drew eased his big body down beside Torr and folded his long legs beneath him. "This will hurt. Your wolf is too powerful to be subdued. You must use all your strength to hold him back. You carry the blood of your people in your veins. I carry the blood of my brother in mine. Together we will seek out your pack and bring them home. My blood will amplify your call."

Torr clamped his jaws tightly together and nodded. Drew could call himself the Great White Wolf. He could transform into a wolf. Great. Whatever. With the vampires, it was always about blood. Naturally. And at the very core of Drew's existence, he was a vampire. He could call himself the freaking Fairy Godmother and sprout wings for all it mattered. But ultimately it always boiled down to blood. "Now."

Drew gave himself over to the vampire dwelling deep within his soul and struck hard and fast. A human would have never seen it coming. But Torr did. The blood flowing into his mouth was rich and sweet...potent...and filled with the power of the wolf. In his head, Drew could hear the whispers of dozens of pack, melding to form one singular voice. The pack was in agony, a union of souls with an emptiness within them. Waiting for their master's absent call.

A rivulet of blood trickled down Torr's bare chest, tainting the air with its rich coppery scent. His body was pinned securely against Drew's chest. Immobilized by muscular arms that held him like steel bands. Panic invaded his mind and he fought against the hold. He could feel his body weaken as his life force poured down his chest and flowed down Drew's furiously swallowing throat.

Nash tensed as the smell of blood drifted on the night breeze. Blood stirred the predator within him. Blood. Prey. Waves of power crashed into him. His hands found Eloise's and gripped them tightly. Words to which the meaning had been lost in the depths of time found their way to his lips. With no way to contain them, he released them into the darkness.

Eloise gripped Nash's hands tightly in hers and held on. The rich tenor of his voice echoed off the sheer surface of the cliffs and drifted off into the darkness of the surrounding woods. She'd never seen magic or really believed in it until she met him. Her world was neat, orderly, predictable, and governed by more rules. Always the rules. DNA was her god and eugenics her savior. There was a whole world that went way beyond the predictability of the double helix. A world where magic was real and miracles happened every day. For her, the miracle of his love had been enough to make her abandon her god forever.

Drew withdrew his fangs and left the wounds open to bleed. There wasn't time to close them. Torr was losing his hold on his wolf. Drew couldn't let Torr lose control yet. They were only going to get one shot to get this right. His eyes fell on the dagger at Eloise's hip. He couldn't hold Torr and create a wound on his flesh. Torr was strong as hell, aided by the preternatural energy raging beneath his skin. Drew sucked in a deep breath as the blade opened his skin as he did what all good leaders did, bled for his people. "Drink," he hissed as he gripped the back of Torr's head and pressed his mouth against the wound.

The scent of blood, coppery sweet scent of death and prey, called to Torr's wolf. His mouth found the wound and latched on tightly. The blood was sweet and thick. Life and power flowed into him. He drank like a pup at his mother's teat, grappling and clawing at the flesh beneath him for more. An unearthly sound ripped from Torr's throat as the stinging agony of cold ripped its way through his very soul.

Torr rolled out of the grip of the arms that held him and clawed at the dew saturated grass with his fingers. He had to find something real to hold onto before he totally lost himself to the power of the blood flowing in a freezing trek along his flesh.

Drew pressed his palm to the wound. The flesh from the cut was already healing, knitting together cell by cell. Panting and shivering from the energy of Torr's blood, he rolled out of the way and waited for the wolf to come.

A deep throated growl escaped Torr's lips. Fueled by magic, the change ripped his wolf from his flesh. The ground and the woods fell away, all sense of reason disappeared as the human in him surrendered to the wolf. Muscle and bone contorted and reformed into powerful fore and hind legs. Skin stretched over newly formed limbs and fur emerged from smooth skin.

The wolf was confused and dazed. Warily, he stood on trembling limbs and shook bits of cloth, grass, and other debris free from his fur. The wolf was guided by instinct and used cues from the world around it to gather information. His nostrils flared at the scent of blood. Fur prickled with the tingling force of the raw energy surrounding him. Ears pricked at the sound of beating hearts and held breaths. The wolf's fur along his hackles and ruff bristled as it sensed the presence of other predators. Lowering his head, he growled menacingly.

"Ptweowa, Wolf, call to your pack," Drew commanded. Deep inside of him, his two beasts battled for dominance. His wolf clamored to answer the challenge of the male wolf. His vampire struggled to maintain his vampiric form. Goddess magic rolled along his skin in misty, rippling fingers.

The wolf's liquid gold eyes studied him intelligently. The wolf was sizing him up. Friend? Foe? Only the wolf could decide. Slowly the wolf lowered his big muscular body into a sit and lifted his snout to the air. His soft brown ears twitched with awareness. A low, soulful howl reverberated off the cliffs as the wolf sang his call high into the night sky.

Drew crouched on his knees and exhaled. "It is done." The only part of the wolf still visible, even to heightened vampire senses and nearly perfect night vision was his tail, bobbing as he ran through the woods. Drew scrambled to his feet and stared after the wolf. Gently, he placed a hand on Eloise's shoulder, stopping her. "Let him go. He's sacrificed much for us tonight."

Erica tossed and turned, the blankets a wad around her bare limbs. Her aunt and uncle fervently refused to turn on the central air and the house was sweltering hot. Too hot to sleep, to hot to do anything besides marinade in a thick sheen of sticky sweat. Reason number two why she wanted her own apartment. Air conditioning. A fan clattered noisily at the foot of her bed, accomplishing nothing of any value except burning a few kilowatts of electricity and blowing around damp, humid air.

Curtains hung limply, occasionally fluttering in a weak breeze. The night was a chorus of crickets and bull frogs. Their gentle night song did nothing to soothe her mind. Erica groaned and rolled onto her back and pulled her sweat dampened hair from around her neck. She'd stripped as much as she could, laying on top the blankets in a thin cotton camisole and bikini underwear. But, she was still miserable.

The wolf ran haphazardly through the woods. The heavy canopy of leaves and branches did little to soothe him. Prey was bountiful. Tiny forest creatures darted out of his path, seeking the solace of the trees. They were safe tonight. The wolf ignored them and ran. The human inside of him was raw and exposed, in need of a place of solace and safety of his own.

Torr awoke naked and shivering curled into a fetal position in a bed of thick, earthy smelling mulch. His limbs twisted in agony and he ached all the way down to the roots of his soul. Panting from the strain, he pushed his torso up and scrambled onto wobbly legs. Despite the muggy, humid, night, he was freezing. Confused, he stumbled across the neatly cropped lawn and collapsed beneath a screened window. "Erica," he croaked.

Erica sat up and tipped her head to the side. She heard the scuffle of feet in the grass beneath her window. Her heart pounded like a jack rabbit's in her chest. Someone was outside. The bed creaked lightly beneath her as she eased into a sitting position and searched the darkened room for something to use to defend herself. Her fingers clenched into fists as she heard her name, croaked in desperation by a deep male voice. "Torr?"

The sweet sound of her voice gave his legs the strength to stand. The weathered wood of the windowsill dug into his palms as he leaned against the cracked and faded boards. "Erica." The screen bowed as he pressed his palm to the mesh, "Erica."

"Torr!," Erica whispered urgently as she dove off the bed and scrambled across her cluttered room to the window. "What are you doing ..." she was going to chastise him for showing up at her windowsill like some peeping Tom. His face was smudged with dirt and sweat. A dried trail of blood stained a tacky trail from his neck and wound through the thick patch of hair on his chest. His hair hung limply, plastered with sweat to his forehead, "Oh my God! What happened to you?" Her fingers fiddled with the latches on the screen, prying them loose.

Torr gathered up what little reserves he had left and hefted his body through the open space. He landed in a loud, unceremonious thud on the wood floor. Her hands were warm, fluttering over his frozen skin like butterfly wings. Shivering, he curled into a ball, seeking out the heat of her body.

"What the...," Erica stammered and felt for the blanket at the foot of her bed. Torr's sweat slicked skin was absolutely freezing against her fingertips. She didn't have time to think about the fact that there was a naked man curled into a ball at her feet. She'd figure out an explanation later, if she had to. Grunting beneath his weight, she wrestled him onto the bed and wrapped him tightly in the covers. "My God, Torr what happened?" Even with the extra weight of blankets and the stifling air trapped by the closed window, he trembled and his teeth chattered. She draped her body over his chilled skin and gasped, shivering herself, wishing she had on flannel pajamas instead of the skimpy underwear and camisole set.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her cinnamon colored brows knit together in worry. Gently, she brushed the layer of hair plastered on his forehead loose and separated the strands till they lay smooth against his scalp. Gradually, his shivering lessened and then stilled. His pale, chilly skin, became warm beneath her finger tips. And his ragged breathing eased. His face relaxed and his eyelids drifted closed. Her fingers trailed along a tense muscle in his neck and traced the bruised scabbed twin wounds. Puncture wounds. Erica gathered Torr's head in her lap and rested her forehead on his broad shoulder.

Anymore she didn't know who the good guys were. Alex said she was one of the good guys. Torr's face bunched up into a wince as Erica fingered the wounds. One of the good guys had done this to Torr. She wanted to know who and why.



Chapter 86

Hanning lifted his head and shrugged Ruby's hand away. A part of him begged for the gentleness of her light touch. Another part of him screamed don't touch me in his mind. He battled the two sides for what seemed hours, but was only a matter of minutes. God, he missed his wife. The question that hung over his head like a black storm cloud pregnant with rain, was.. was she really or ever his wife?

Ruby drew her hand away as if it had been burned by a hot flame, flesh seared to bone. "Look at me, Hanning."

Hanning fervently shook his head and took a step forward. "I can't."

Ruby closed the distance he'd placed between them and stared at the space on his back where her hand had rested. "Why?"

His hands drew up into fists clenched tightly to his sides. A muscle in his jaw ticked in time to his bounding pulse. "I still love you. Leave me what little pride I have left and just go away."

"No. What I did was so wrong. I can't take any of it back. I can't. If I could I would. I...we can only go forward. Together. Hanning, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. Please, look at me," Ruby pled softly. "Please, Hanning." Trembling fingers tugged at the straps of her nightgown and slid them over her shoulders. The gown whispered to the floor into a puddle at her feet. Gingerly, she stepped free and stood, naked, before the man she'd begrudgingly called husband.

Hanning stared over his shoulder and swallowed hard at the knot stuck in his throat. Slowly, against his will, he turned and ran his eyes over his wife's naked body. His fingers reached out with a mind of their own and traced a trail along the curve of her neck and along her collarbones. "I used to think you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen." He cupped the fullness of her breast in his palm and gently closed his fingers around the nipple.

"And now?" Ruby asked, inching closer. The warmth and gentle friction of his palm against the sensitive skin of her nipple made her ache with newly awakened want. They'd had sex countless times before. Always in a darkened bedroom in the middle of the night. Quickly, briefly, but never had one touch from him made her tingle with awareness the way it did now.

"God damn it, Ruby. You're still beautiful and I still, God help my soul, I still want you. No matter how badly you've hurt me or my son. I still want you." He opened his fingers. The weight of her breast rested against his fingertips. His free hand slid along the slope of her waist and followed the curve of her hip. He'd traveled this ground many times before, but never had she even given him the slightest hint that she enjoyed his touch. The scent of her arousal made his cock leap in his pants with eager anticipation. "Ruby, what does this say about me? That I can let you humiliate me and still confess to love you?"

"That you're only a man. Imperfect. Fallible. Sometimes love doesn't make any sense. We've been married for years. Yet, I've never loved you or wanted you as badly as I do at this moment." Ruby leaned against the wall of muscle. Every hard plane and dip, she'd felt before. Somehow thought, his body was new, unexplored. A deep hiss escaped his pursed lips as her fingers found their way down to the zipper of his jeans and stroked the straining bulge.

"Why?" Hanning strained, grasping her wrist tightly in his hand. "Why now? Why tonight?" His body was his worst enemy. Every nerve fiber burned with need for her touch. In all the years of marriage, he'd silently prayed for this. For her to want him with the same heat and passion that he wanted her. Now that he had exactly what he spent many nights dreaming about, he didn't trust it.

"Because, I only have twenty-eight days left to win you back."

"And you think a romp in the hay is going to make the last few weeks go away?" Hanning sputtered indignantly. "It's going to take a little more than that. I'm not that cheaply or easily bought." He released Ruby's wrist and pushed her away. "You should try some other sap to manipulate if that's all you've got."

"Hanning, that's not what I meant. I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm trying to make you see what you have to fight for. The good that we have to save." Ruby self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts and wished she hadn't been so hasty in removing her nightgown.

Hanning grunted and gripped his belt buckle his fists. "You think we should save our marriage by starting in the bedroom? Fine." He tore the belt buckle open, ripping the leather in protest as he jerked his belt free. His hands shook as he tugged his snug fitting jeans over his hips. He kicked his feet free from his jeans and nudged the abandoned wad of material to the side. Roughly, he grappled for Ruby's arm and guided her against his erection. The soft down between her thighs rubbed him, arousing him to full length.

"Hanning, I...I want to make love," Ruby protested. His hard length was pressed into the softness of her belly. The friction between their bodies made her ache with want. He'd never touched her like this before. In the bedroom, she'd always been in absolute control. Tonight, she knew nothing but the press of flesh and the heat of desire. Tonight, she was prey, in control of nothing, not even her own body. He played her with skilled hands and well timed strokes.

"Call it whatever you want, Ruby. I thought we had been making love for years. Imagine how cheated I felt to realize it was only fucking." Hanning pressed his mouth against hers. She was soft and sweet, yielding to the hard mold of his lips. Demanding, he probed his tongue along her mouth and slipped inside its velvety warmth. His hands found the round curve of her butt and traveled down her thighs. She quivered beneath his touch and moaned when he found spots he never knew she had. Lifting her, he wrapped her thighs around his waist and impaled her deep and hard with a thrust of his hips.

Her body felt so warm, her core drenched with desire, slick and wet around his length. He gripped at her hips and withdrew, to sink deep inside of her again and again. Felt so damned good. Her breath came out in little pants that tickled along his collarbone. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders as she grappled to keep hold of him. YES! He threw back his head and pumped into her hard and long. The pressure built inside of him, tightening his groin. He balanced her weight in his arms as he continued bucking and pumping into her. Claiming her utterly as his. All his.

Ruby could do nothing but hold on and enjoy the ride. Hanning was in charge and she reveled in the strength of his masculinity. Biceps bulged as he held her in capable arms and guided her body up and down his hard shaft. His fingers were hard and unyielding, digging into the flesh of her buttocks and hips, bruising her. She could care less about a few bruises. As long as she had her man back. What else mattered?

Release snuck up on Ruby. She was a good wife, dutiful in all things. She always made sure he finished, rarely did she achieve such things herself. The orgasm was a complete and very, very pleasant surprise. She could fake it with the best of them. But this time, her climax was real and it felt so amazingly good.

A grin spread across Hanning's lips as he realized exactly how good he'd made Ruby feel. The muscles of her damp core milked and squeezed him tightly as she came. Her lips curled into a little O and her cheeks flushed with the heat of her climax. Her thighs clenched his waist as he continued to work her. Oh no, she wasn't getting any time to recover. He was just getting started. He bucked into her and pumped with everything he had until she gasped and shivered, trembling beneath the reeling sensations of multiple orgasms in his arms.

His release was almost dizzying. The fruit of his efforts jetted into her and filled her. She was slick and saturated, dripping wet with his ejaculate. And he loved the feel of it inside of her. Gently, he slid free and lowered her to the bed. Her skin was covered with his scent and the musky, heady smell of sex. Her hair draped across the comforter in a sleek, black, satiny curtain. He balanced his weight on the heel of one hand and pressed his hips into the V of her thighs. He stroked the soft strands and ran them through his fingers. Her eyes were soft and heavy lidded, looking up at him, unblinking, filled with a warm, golden hue of love. If he had any doubts about her before now, they were erased by the weight of her stare. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to her lips and claimed them in a slow, soft, kiss.

Ruby opened her mouth for him and returned each gentle stroke of his tongue and brush of his lips with careful eagerness. A smattering of chest hair brushed against her sensitive nipples, teasing them to aching peaks. His erection knocked at the door in the juncture of her thighs. She spread her legs and shifted her hips. Her body cupped the hot, hard tip. Waiting.