Dawn Released

Shane followed the boy as he snuck through the lengthening shadows. Tristen. Wonderful. He'd gone and gotten himself captured. Nice. "You. What are you doing, boy?"

Tristen skidded to a halt. Grinding his molars. He wasn't much in the stealth department, if he'd already managed to get himself caught. "I was looking for the mess hall, Sir." He stood with his chin up and eyes fixed ahead. Like a good little robot soldier would. He relaxed a bit when he realized Shane was the one to catch him in the act.

"The mess hall is the first tent in the line. I suggest you find your way there on the double, boy," Shane bellowed at the youth. "Move it!" he barked. "And don't let me catch you out here again!" His instincts told him that Tristen was headed into trouble. And that was something Tristen or he didn't need. At least with Tristen in the ranks, Shane knew where he was and what he was doing at all times. Getting to him wouldn't be a problem. No one would so much as lift an eyebrow in question if he decided to take a new recruit out for a lesson or two.

"Yessir." Tristen shot Shane a questioning look but darted for the mess hall. He thought Shane was an ally. Maybe, he was wrong. The others trusted Shane and Tristen had no way to warn them that the jig might possibly be up. If Shane was a wolf in sheep's clothing and he was moving into the flock, about to strike, there'd be no way for him to get word to anybody. He didn't know. He was confused and uncertain. Sometimes, friends and enemies were indistinguishable. There was nothing but the actions a man did to tell one from the other. Friends. Enemies. It was just all just a matter of perception. Wasn't it? After all, he was an enemy disguised as a friend, from someone else's point of view.

Torr was losing his mind. He stretched out on the cold, hard, damp concrete floor beneath him, sickened by the scent of his own stench. He was hungry. Shivering in the cold darkness that swallowed him up. The female. She promised to come back for him. How long ago had it been? Hours? Days? He howled in confusion and stumbled onto his feet. Feeling the walls beneath his hands, he paced the confines of the cell. He had nothing to do but wait for something, anything, to happen.

Not even his thoughts of Erica were a comfort to him anymore. He had nothing but darkness and the endless waiting. The powerlessness of his situation was a virtual hell to endure. Torr wished his father would just end it. The bastard didn't need him alive, so what was he waiting for? Why not just kill him and have this bullshit over and done with? The not knowing when was not as bad as cooling his heels just waiting for when to finally come. He would never be so cruel to his father. He'd kill the miserable son of a bitch, if or when he ever got the chance. And afterwards, he'd go to D.C. and find his beautiful autumn haired daughter and his golden, angel with the halo of fire and he'd live the life he should have had the freedom to live. He'd do it to the fullest of his ability and he'd never look back.

Chapter 37

Shayla slid on a dark colored jacket and grabbed a grocery sack out of her cupboard. Completing the guise of going out in search of wild greens, she'd changed out of her uniform and into jeans and a thick sweatshirt. She was going straight to the fence and getting the hell out. She'd done her part and her fleeting burst of courage was utterly exhausted. The sky had grown dim and settled into the deep purple of night. She didn't have much time before night fell in earnest. Headed for the woods, she scurried as fast as her tennis shoes would carry her for the cover of pine and brush.

The guard skulked behind the female, easily following her trail. He was a trained tracker and his prey wasn't getting away this time. The woods spanned for miles and they were the perfect place for the two of them to spend a little alone time getting to know one another better.

Carter dug under the cover of the deepening night, unearthing the hole. Shayla was coming. Her mind was a blur of fear shouting into his consciousness. He saw the woods, the contrast of shadows through his mind's eye as she ran. She'd done well today and completed her mission. He clutched at the loose dirt with his fingers digging faster. Flooded by the sensation of her terror and agonized by her pain, his fears had become reality. Something had gone wrong.

Carter pawed at the dirt furiously, haphazardly throwing clumps of earth over his shoulders as he dug the hole. Someone was hurting Shayla and his protective instincts roared for justice. He shimmied and wriggled into the narrow crawlspace he'd managed to unearth. Scrabbling at the loose ground over his head, he finally broke free on the other side of the fence. Not bothering to explain, not really caring to either, he bolted into the woods at a speed only a vampire bent on vengeance could achieve.

Shayla felt the bite of rough bark through her jacket and sweatshirt. The guard's hands were all over her, groping and pinching, fumbling beneath her bra. He pressed her against the tree as he helped himself to her body. His clammy lips skated across her open neckline as his tongue lapped at her skin. His hand was hard and tight across her mouth. Stifling her air supply as his fleshy, sweaty palm blocked her nose. She writhed and twisted trying to break free. Her wolf growled beneath the surface of her consciousness more than willing to release her fury and outrage.

"Now is later, honey," The guard growled. Enthralled by the excitement of capturing his prey, he went to work on her. She was soft beneath him, warm and pliant against his hard, aching body. He pawed at her clothes, tearing away buttons and fumbling with the lacy bra that hid the treasures he planned to thoroughly enjoy. The more she fought the more turned on he got. The scent of her fear spurred his libido into a frenzy of hard want and need. Her wolf prowled in her mind, he could sense the wolf's raw power and sheer outrage. If she started to turn, he'd shoot her dead. No one would miss her. She was less than nothing in the order of things. He'd take what he wanted and if necessary, if she pushed him, hide the body in the dry earth beneath his feet. "Do what I say and I won't hurt you. You'll like it. I promise," he rasped.

Carter was in full attack mode. Body tense and ready to uncoil its fury on the bastard pawing at Shayla. His fangs were fully extended into sharp points of lethal menace. The dumb bastard never saw him coming. He sprang on the male and buried his fangs deep into ruddy flesh, releasing a torrent of blood. The male didn't even put up a fight as Carter pulled him off Shayla and drank deeply. The blood was spiced with the guard's confusion and surprise, and laced with the heady, pungent aftertaste of fear. And it tasted so good. Carter was going to drain the stupid fucker dry for even thinking he could put his hands on Shayla against her will.

Shayla's legs gave way and she slid to the ground, clutching at her torn clothing with trembling fingers. She'd never seen a vampire in full attack. Carter drank with such fury and with blind vengeance. Pinning the guard in his powerful and lethal embrace. The guard exhaled in a pain filled rasp of surrender. His skin was chalky white, pale as Carter's. Carter was going to drain him. He was going to kill him if he didn't stop. Despite what the guard had done, she didn't want him dead. She reached out a quivering hand and grabbed Carter's arm. "Carter, don't kill him. Please, don't." She begged for the guard's life with gentle words. Hoping to call off the vampire's lethal attack before it was too late. If Carter killed him, he'd never be able to take it back. Despite what the guard was. He was a man with a soul and not an animal to be fed upon. "Please." Her cool fingers slicked across Carter's jaw. "Stop."

Shayla's words drew him back from the dark places his mind reveled in. The male's blood surged through his body, feeding him and giving him strength. The wolf was close to death. A few more pulls and he would be dead. Carter closed his eyes and withdrew. The coppery scent of the male's blood filled the air as it spilled from the deep gauges Carter had driven into his flesh.

Her gentle touch soothed the beast that dwelled in his tormented soul. He would have easily killed to protect her without thought of the consequences. He could have signed his own death warrant. The Sons took murder very seriously. The only punishment was death, quick and permanent at the end of one of their blades.

Shayla watched as Carter lifted the guard's limp body and closed the puncture sites with a flick of his tongue. The guard's head lolled like a rag doll. His body landed with a thud as Carter dropped him to the ground. Nervously, she checked for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. She'd stopped Carter in time. "Thank you."

Carter licked the last of the male's blood off his lips and retracted his fangs. She'd already seen his beast at is absolute worst. There was no need to hide anything from her now. She knew what he was, a killer, a cold, methodical, lethal predator without emotion or regret. "He would not have done the same for you. I share his mind, trust me I know."

"Will he be all right?"

Carter snorted and hefted his body from its crouch. "He'll live." He stretched out a hand to help Shayla up. Not sure if she'd accept or if the sight of his beast had frightened her. He smiled when she took his hand, trusting him. Gently, he pulled her up onto her feet and removed his jacket, draping the leather over her shoulders. "You ok? Really?" He slicked his fingers through her disheveled hair, pushing the length from her fevered cheeks. Unsure of what motivated him, he pulled her into his arms and held her until she'd stopped trembling.

Shayla was shocked by Carter's gentleness. Not more than a minute ago, he was sucking the life out of another being. Now he handled her as gently and carefully as if she would break in his grasp. "I'm fine." She reached up and brushed her fingers across his chin, wiping away the crusted blood drying on his chin. "You've got a spot there. Messy vampire," she teased.

Carter squeezed her fingers lightly with his. "I'll try to be neater, next time," he shrugged. Chuckling. He felt the presence of others behind him. Reluctantly, he released her fingers from his hold and turned.

Emil and Hanning watched the exchange with rapt fascination. Shayla had tamed a rabid beast with nothing more than words and her gentle touch. They'd never seen a vampire before him and the lethal force in which he brought down his prey held them in awe. He was pure grace and death hidden beneath a human exterior.

Nash shook his head. "Damned vampire." He exhaled the breath trapped in his throat and holstered his blade. He would have tried to stop Carter from draining every last drop from the guard sprawled out on the ground. If Carter had killed the male, he would have found himself in a royal shit storm when he got back home. Nash wouldn't have let that happen. He would have injured Carter with his dagger to stop him. He would have protected Carter the same way he would have protected any other member of the pack, even if it meant protecting the glowering vampire from himself.

Tracker bound the male and gagged him. Hefting the guard's weight over his shoulder, he said, "I suggest we take this on the other side of the fence before someone comes looking for him."

Catcher smoothed over the area, scattered fallen leaves and twigs, erasing all evidence of the scuffle. There was nothing he could do about the scent trail though or the smell of fresh blood. Nature would hopefully take care of that. "Good idea, brother."

One by one the team shimmied under the fence. Safely tucked away in the brambles and brush on the other side. They sat, exchanging information and finalizing their plan. Everyone agreed, it happened tonight or not at all. They were simply out of time. Carter half-heartedly listened. He stuck close to Shayla, attempting to shelter her from the ugliness of her world. She went on as if the attack hadn't happened. Bravely adding her suggestions to exactly how she thought this thing should go down. He was humbled by her and drawn, inexorably closer to her.

Chapter 38

The first full-blown surge of the heat roared through Eloise's body. She clutched and clawed at the expensive comforter on the bed, her back arching as she writhed and bucked her hips in the throes of the fever. The throbbing deep within her sex was agonizing. Her body was on fire from the flames spreading outward from her core. Sweat rolled down the valley of her hypersensitive, swollen, breasts. Panting and gripping she gritted her teeth against the waves of urgent need holding her body prisoner. She was losing control. Becoming the very essence of the animal that dwelled within her. Her teeth clamped down on the pillowcase as she stifled hungry screams of torment.

Eloise caught a flicker movement out of the corner of her eye. The warbled glass of the mirror affixed to the antique dresser at the foot of the bed captured her reflection. She was no longer the composed, confident leader of a people. Plastered with sweat, her hair hung in damp tangles. The black silk shift that she had slid into earlier that day clung to her fevered skin. The snugness of the sheer fabric stretched across her taut breasts highlighting her pointed, erect nipples. Her green eyes blazed with an electrical glow of equal parts hunger and desperation.

She buried her face in the pillow, hiding from the humiliation and shame of her beastlike reflection. She panted, struggling to keep her hold on the tiny scraps of self-control and dignity that she had left. She would not let Seff touch her. But, she knew it was a lie. When the heat finally came on her, she'd have no choice.

Seff stood on the other side of the door, listening to Eloise's maddened cries. He was proud of his handiwork. In less than twenty-four hours he had managed to break the woman to the point where she'd fractured into thousands of tiny pieces. Her scent called to him from beneath the door. The guards were not immune to the feminine pull of her erotic smell. They stood rigid and tense. Physically responding to their instincts while their fragile brains grappled to maintain control over their bodies. He was going to have to get them out of here. Before their little brains over ruled their big ones. One of two things would happen, if he left them at their post. Either they'd break down the door to get to her or she'd break down the door to get to them and neither was an option.

He wanted to ensure that he would only have to do the deed one time. By morning she'd be into the worst of the heat. She was close now. He wasn't ready to end her suffering yet. One mating would begin to reverse her painful symptoms. He wanted her to sweat and whimper. He wanted her reduced to begging for release before he gave her relief. Most males looked forward to servicing a female in her time of need. The sex. The unbridled passion. To him though, sex was simply a means to an end, just like her.

He could not leave her door unguarded. But, he couldn't risk having any males within range of her scent. The results could be fatal. If some other male got to her before he did and impregnated her with his seed instead. Seff shuddered in disgust. He'd kill Eloise and the male without question. And then, all his hard work would have been for nothing.

No, he couldn't let that happen. With a wave of his hand, he sent the guards away. Grinning as the guards uncomfortable shuffled off down the hallway. No doubt, the men were going to slink off into some corner and relieve themselves. Definitely Eloise's scent had affected them adversely. He'd have to rely on the cameras posted outside her door to stand guard in the stead of an actual living male. Females were too sympathetic for this kind of work. Far too often, nature, the heat gripping Eloise would spread to other females, almost as if it were contagious. He did not need the distraction of females in heat anywhere near his guard force.

His body was already beginning to harden in response to his proximity to her and the luscious smell permeating the air. At this point, he couldn't trust himself not to burst in and answer her previous challenge to his manhood. Man enough? Ha? Tomorrow when the heat had her in its fist. She'd find out just how much of a man he was.

Kacie inched across the floor on her belly. She pressed her ear to the hard, cold wood of the old heavy door. The house was quiet, settling for the night. In the distance she could hear muffled steps walking down the hall and the deep rumble of soft whispering male voices. The old house was probably never completely quiet or empty. If she were going to make a run for it, this might be the only chance she got. Hesitantly, she gripped the cold brass knob and gathered her nerve. Before she chickened out, she turned the knob and slipped into the foyer, darting deeper into the house.

She slipped into a dark corner, sucking in a breath as a man bolted down the stairs and crossed the wide, open expanse of living space she was about to run through. He would have caught her for sure. The man was tall, sleek, and broad shouldered. The very picture of what a man should be. Masculine and strong, but there was a hard menacing edge to the cool, slick appearance he projected. Seff! If she'd thought to weapon up before rushing into this mess, she could have killed him where he stood. She could have ended this right here and now.

She was good at hand to hand. Kacie had spent her childhood and teen years training. She knew how to kill with her bare hands. She'd just never done it and Seff was no training manikin or doting omega. The man himself was a killer, bruit force and no mercy. He was at least twice her size or bigger and definitely more skilled than she. If she gave away her presence now by attacking him, she'd never find her mother. Seff muttered to himself, distracted by the thoughts he whispered from his lips as he rolled the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt up and disappeared into a dark, cavernous hallway on the other side of the room.

From the dimly lit stairwell he'd just exited, she heard a woman's shrill scream and the heavy pounding of fists on a door. The wail was filled with agony and torment and it was her mother's voice. Her eyes darted around the room looking for cover as she dodged behind an antique silk settee. The stairs might as well have been miles away instead of a few yards. Acres of highly polished wood floors stretched between her and the barren hall. There was no real cover anywhere. She was going to have to take her chances and make a run for it.

Seff turned on his heel. He wasn't convinced that Eloise would remain confined in her quarters. The heat made women stronger than usual. She just might rip the door off the hinges and manage to get herself free. He wouldn't lose the prize he'd worked so hard to get. His eyes narrowed as he caught an unfamiliar scent on the air. A female? He scanned the priceless antiques artfully arranged throughout the room. The furniture was dainty and frilly. Old fashioned antiques draped in luxurious silks and sitting on high, spindly claw-footed legs. Even though the sitting room was bathed in shadows. He had no trouble spotting the booted foot poking out from behind the settee.

A hunter approaching prey, he stalked closer. The soles of his boots made no sound against the thick nap of the antique rug on the floor. The scent on the air changed to one of fear. He could almost hear her heart slamming against her ribs it beat so loudly. What would this little intruder do? Bolt and make the game interesting. Pretend she was invisible and stay put. He stretched out his hand, reaching behind the high, curved back of the settee and snatched a fistful of her hair in his grip, yanking her out of her hiding place.