Dawn Revealed

Chapter 52

Kayla collapsed on the edge of the bed, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster that was last night. She was free and the nightmare, over. Roark was dead. Even with seeing his beheaded corpse, she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Roark couldn't hurt her anymore. And she had the luxury of considering a future of her making. The past was gone and there was only the brilliant, shining rainbow of endless possibilities ahead of her.

She rolled over onto her side and smiled at the almost naked male emerging from the rolling clouds of billowing white clouds following his shower. Bryce's dark hair curled in ringlets as droplets of moisture fell from the ends and rolled down the bare skin of his chest. For a minute, she forgot about last night. The only comprehensive thoughts her mind could grasp were obscene and spread a wild heat throughout her core.

Bryce returned Kayla's smile and walked over to the bed. He could feel her eyes as they roamed over his body. The ache in his groin, that was ever present whenever she was around, became a howling need. He blew out a deep breath, wishing he had enough time to indulge the heavy bulge beneath his fluffy white towel. But, he had a job to do and no matter what his longings, duty had to come first.

Begrudgingly, he slid his long legs into a fresh pair of black leathers. He had drawn the short straw and was on patrol duties till the ceremony. He adjusted the bulk of his still semi-hard erection and buttoned his fly. Uncomfortably trapping his cock behind the thick leather. Damned rogues. He mentally cursed as he readjusted his length, trying to find the last inch of space to accommodate his need for this woman stretched out and smiling so seductively in his bed.

Bryce frowned at the expression of disappointment clouding Kayla's features as he slid into a clean tee and tucked it in. He holstered the twin set of daggers, a gift from John Mark last Christmas, and stuffed another one down the leg of his boot. Primary reports indicated that the area was rogue free. But, protocol demanded weaponry. It was a policy he fully agreed with. Having it come in damn handy more than once. He bent low and planted a gentle peck on her pouting lips. "I'll see you tonight at the ceremony."

Kayla curved her lips, forming them to his. The taste of Bryce, so masculine with a hint of spice, made her crave him even more. With a smile, she withdrew and broke the contact. She knew who he was, deep down, knitted into the marrow of his bones. A Son. Danger was part of his life, and now, a part of hers. As much as she hated the risks he took, she loved him enough to accept them. "Be safe out there."

"Always." Bryce straightened his back and turned his head over his shoulder throwing her a wink. "Love you," he mouthed as he left his room, shutting her in. Something in her had changed with Roark's death. Kayla seemed lighter, happier, and free. As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And it had. Roark was dead. She was safe.

He still couldn't believe it was over. He knew the Great Father was a powerful fighter. He'd watched him spar in tournaments and had always been amazed by his skill. But, he'd never seen him, truly seen him, fight, for his life and for theirs. Bryce knew that if he'd been the one fighting Roark, he'd be dead now. And he doubted that even Keene would have been able to defeat Roark in combat. Roark had just been toying with them all along. Playing some kind of a game. And if not for the Great Father, he might have won.

The Great Father was always there...but, at the same time...not there. He left running the compound and managing the brothers to his second. Dane. The Great Father stayed out of the limelight and kept to himself. Always had. It seemed secrets were possible in the brotherhood. And he wondered what else they didn't know about the man they called father.

Angel hung back, near the tree line, staying out of the noonday sun. The scent of decay was thick in the air. Alive or dead, Roark simply stunk. If she'd had her way, she would have marched over to his body, doused the rotting corpse in gasoline and took a match to him. If it hadn't been for the wall of powerful warriors guarding his body, she might have done just that.

She hadn't taken much time to consider what her next move would be. Everything had happened so fast. But, for the first time, in the whole of her existence, she was free and unencumbered to decide. She could go anywhere she pleased and do anything she wanted. She just wasn't sure exactly what it was she wanted. The once clear black and white way that she defined her life was fuzzy, with shades of gray and hints of color. And deciding what to do with her life was more of a burden than having no choice at all.

Lance slid up behind Angel. She was so deep in thought, glaring at the drying corpse, that she didn't hear him approach. Keeping a distance, he cleared his throat, not wanting a fist in his face for accidentally startling her. Nothing good could come from the expression of utter contempt on her face as she stared at Roark's corpse. As if by a stare alone she could burn the body to ash. "Take a walk with me?"

Angel simply complied with his request. Which shocked the shit out of him. Any other time she would have been tearing his arm off for daring to touch her. She tolerated his hand on her shoulder, steering her away from the pyre. He had no idea what to say to her. She wasn't one easily convinced by simple reassurances. With the threat of Roark behind her, she could go or she could choose to stay. He knew what he'd rather she do. But, he'd never influence her.

He was glad the old bastard was finally dead. For what Roark had done to Angel, he'd fight for the honor of sparking up the pyre himself. A part of him still didn't fully believe it was over. As if Roark was some kind of a preternatural boogeyman and could leap out of the shadows and snatch Angel up. Not happening. Dead was pretty much dead. And not even Roark could master death. Protectively, he placed a hand at the small of Angel's back and guided her into the woods. She didn't fight him. And her complacency made him nervous.

Angel was filled with hatred for Roark. Standing at his pyre, she'd struggled to cement it in her mind that he wasn't coming back. He. Was. Dead. And. Gone. But, a part of her still didn't believe it. Maybe tonight, when she saw his body consumed in the flames and burned to ash, she would. The heat of Lance's palm on the small of her back, urging her away from the pyre should have pissed her off, adding to her rage. It didn't. The strength of him offered her some small measure of reassurance and grounded her in reality. All of this time, she'd seen Roark as something more than a man. But, in the end he'd died, just like everybody else.

Angel glanced over her shoulder at the pyre. Her eyes focused on the shrouded form stretched over the wooden logs one last time. It was over. Finally over. And she was free. She needed to cling to that fact, needing it just as much as she needed to feel the warmth of Lance's touch. At moonrise, she'd watch Roark's body burn and the flames consume her devil, her tormentor, and her biggest fears. Woodenly, she let Lance guide her down the path to the compound. The silence between them required words. But, she had nothing to say.

Bryce made his rounds along Main Street, trying to appear as normal as anybody else. He was pretty good at pretending to be human. But, it took concentration he couldn't seem to muster today. The people passing him by on the sidewalk gave him wary glances and a wide berth. Almost as if they knew something about him wasn't quite right and he wasn't what he appeared to be on the surface.

The glint of sunlight off of the baubles displayed in the jewelry store window caught his eye. Ok, so maybe he was being a sucker for love...again. And it was too soon to think about such things as forever. But, he jaywalked across the street to check out a few pieces. After all, he was just looking...right?

The rings in their velvet boxes were pretty. Sparkling gold and diamonds, gemstones of amazing clarity, but they weren't what he was looking for. Oh sure, they were nice. Meager pieces good enough for an ordinary girl. But, there wasn't anything ordinary about Kayla. And not one of them spoke to him. He'd battled rogues and not even that had made him half as nervous as the idea taking shape in his mind.

Immediately, Bryce regretted pitching the ring into the woods. He had no clue as to where it'd landed and doubted he'd ever find it. The singular diamond and thick band of plain yellow gold was unique in its simplicity, classic and understated. The ring had been very expensive. When he'd purchased it, he'd made sure that the quality of the stone and the gold were the best that there was to be had. He'd bought it, at the time thinking the flashy diamond and shimmering gold would secure his place in Janine's heart.

The day he'd proposed, wearing his heart on his sleeve, clutching every hope and dream he'd ever had in his palm. With his future condensed into a velvet box and a band of gold, he'd torn her to shreds and lost a part of himself in the process. Nothing had mattered to him then but winning. He'd just been so desperate to belong to somebody and have somebody belong to him. He couldn't see beyond his imagined future with Janine.

That day, he'd broken her. And she'd been so confused about him and her future. In bitter surrender she'd allowed him to slide the ring on her finger.

When she'd given him back the ring, he'd been so angry. Not with her, never with her. He'd been furious with himself for stooping so low and doing what he'd done. His quest to win had caused a rift in the brotherhood. Patrick and he were still trying to bridge the gulf their bitter feud had caused. And Janine, she'd forgiven him. But, things were not the same and would never be the same between them. In retrospect, he knew now what he should have realized then. He'd loved Janine. He would always love her. But, he'd never been in love with her. No more than she'd been love with him.

Stupidly, he'd tossed the ring on the morning after Janine's wedding to Patrick. And now, he realized, it wasn't the ring that was wrong. No, the ring was perfect. It was him that was wrong. He'd bought the right ring for the wrong girl. None of these rings in the jewelry store display would do. Not a one of them was good enough. And it had nothing to do with the style, the stones, the gold, or the price tag and everything to do with the girl.

Bryce knew what he had to do. The odds of finding the ring were almost non-existent. But, they were about as good as a guy finding the right girl. And he'd managed to do that. Assuming she said yes. He remembered watching the sunlight glinting off the ring as it had sailed in a graceful arc through the air. Unfortunately, he hadn't paid that much attention to where it might have landed.

That ring could be anywhere. But, he wasn't going to let that stop him. He had to find it. No matter how long it took or how crazy it sounded. And it sounded pretty damn insane. He might spend days if not weeks crawling on his hands and knees through the woods looking for a ring he might never find. Kayla was worth it though. Everything he'd gone through had led him to this point. And everything was all about the girl.

The mood at the compound hadn't improved much. It was dead quiet in the dim lit halls and behind the closed doors lining them. In the midst of all of this uncertainty, everyone was searching for affirmation. Today, the brotherhood had witnessed the death of one of their most nefarious adversaries. And even though it was a relief to see Roark dead. His death brought a whole host of worries to the forefront of everyone's minds. The brothers were left wondering what would come at them next and would they be ready for it?

Lance walked through the eerily silent hallways. The heels of his boots softly whispered against the concrete floors, marking his steps. Even without vampire hearing, he could have heard a pin drop. He knew his best friend's mind. Bryce was exactly what the brothers needed to turn this dismal mood around. Lance wasn't exactly into the hearts and flowers kind of thing. To him, nothing made his romantic heart go pitter-patter like the razor sharp edge of a finely honed blade. But, who didn't root for the underdog? And there wasn't any dog quite like Bryce.

A different guy...a saner guy would have given up long ago. Janine had all but ripped Bryce's heart out. His best friend, hell life at the compound, hadn't quite been the same since. They'd all existed in the aftermath of Bryce's latest romantic disaster. Which Lance had so adequately named 'Hurricane Janine'. Not that he'd ever called that that out loud. A wedding would sure as hell perk things up and bring back a sense of normalcy. The women he was forced to share his space with would love it. Fawning over the bride or whatever girly things they did that passed as feminine bonding. And when their girls were happy; the guys were very, very happy.

Lance tore through his sock drawer. Thanks to Candace, these days his room was neat as a pin. And he couldn't find a damn thing. Carelessly tossing the socks and boxers she so painstakingly laundered, folded, and put away for him all over the floor, he searched for the ring.

Who folded underwear anyway? And as for socks, all his socks were exactly the same. So it wasn't like it mattered if they were matched or not. He wouldn't have wasted his time the way she did on a slob like him. He had better things to worry about than a tidy bedroom. Hell, he was lucky if his boxers made it to the laundry at all back when he was in charge of his own housekeeping. When he ran out, he simply went commando or snagged onto a pair of Bryce's.

Grunting at the brightly colored satin boxers Janine had added to his wardrobe and that he wouldn't wear if his life depended on it. He felt along the bottom of the drawer. The ring was here somewhere. He was sure of it. Over hunting for the damn thing, he yanked the drawer out of the dresser and dumped it on the floor. Crawling on all fours, tossing his socks and underwear out of the way, he felt for the ring. And finally found it under the bed. Closing his fingers around the ring, he picked it up to examine it.

Lance exhaled on the ring and buffed the gold on the sleeve of his shirt before tucking it into his pocket. The expensive token of affection wasn't his style and wouldn't have been his pick. But, the ring wasn't for him. Kayla had better be suitably impressed. And Bryce sure as hell had earned the right to put it on somebody's finger.

He sat on the floor, surveying the mess he'd made. Vowing he'd clean it up later before Mama Candace saw it and scolded him thoroughly. That morning he'd watched Bryce chuck the ring over the bluffs, he would have never guessed how necessary one ring, a tiny band of gold and a sparkly diamond, could be. That morning, Bryce had given up all hope. And Lance had played fetch to hang on to hope. He'd stashed hope away when Bryce couldn't. Now, it was time to give it back.

Bryce needed this. The brothers needed this. And Lance needed his best friend to be happy. If a ring could do all that, then it was worth every penny Bryce had paid. And worth all the effort Lance had taken to keep it safe for his brother. Lance pushed off the floor and gingerly toed the pile of underwear and socks under the bed. Patting the hip pocket of his leathers to make sure the ring was still there, he went out to find Bryce and deliver the symbol of hope and love to the person it rightfully belonged to.

Chapter 53

Anna and Chris were busily getting the new addition to the compound settled. There were only two out of the dozens that had been on the bluffs. Two new and exciting strangers they hoped would soon become friends and maybe, family. Anna slid a glance at Chris, already mapping out blueprints in her head. When she'd originally planned their home, she had allotted extra space for visitors and new members. But, the functional barrack style quarters were hardly homey.

Anna returned Chris's smile, acknowledging the wheels that were spinning wildly in her friend's head. Very soon, she had a feeling that the two of them would be back at the drafting table, planning a new wing to the already sprawling subterranean compound. Her fingers itched to get started. She turned to Sebastian, and asked, "Will this do for now?"

"You've been most gracious." Sebastian bowed. His long blond ponytail fell along his right shoulder as deep green eyes regarded her, causing Chris to blush a violent crimson. He squeezed his mate's hand. Reassuring her that this was right. These people were safe and meant them no harm. He had a sense about these things. And he was rarely wrong.

"Oh, how I love to shop!" Janine's voice echoed down the winding hallways. She balanced the towering pile of bags and boxes on a rolling cart. Dashing eagerly to the barracks to show off her fashion sense. She didn't need sizes. She had an uncanny ability to guess the perfect fit. She squeaked, pulling the cart to a sharp halt before she ran into the backside of one of the rogues. Not the first impression she was hoping for.

"Human," Sebastian said under his breath testing the scent. His fangs grew long his base nature roaring for release. The concept of a symbiotic relationship with humans was still foreign to him. In his world, he simply took what he wanted and left the victim, the cup as it were, dozing and unaware. He didn't ask and humans didn't freely give.

"Really?" Janine huffed uncomfortably. "Chris, did you know I was a human?" She grinned hiding the moment of awkwardness behind a wall of sarcasm. The whole walking juice box on stilettos was getting a bit overdone. She was human. Not lunch. Deal with it.

"Janine, cut it out," Anna huffed. "Thanks for bringing these down to us." She slid Janine's hands free of the cart and steered it around Sebastian and the brunette warily clinging to his side.

Sebastian lowered his eyes in embarrassment. But, never took them off the prey. "My apologies. We're not used to being so close to humans."

Janine blew him off with a flamboyant wave of her hand. "None taken. Now," She riffled through the bags matching the right bag with the intended recipient. Sebastian had a rugged look about him and a classic style. His pale skin, sloped nose, and green eyes, and the hair, blond and perfectly banded at the nape of his neck, required a casual yet refined look. And the clothes she'd picked out for him would definitely suit his type. "You'll find I have excellent fashion sense."

"Exquisite." Starr released Sebastian's hand and pawed through the bulging plastic bags nodding in approval. The human had excellent tastes. Choosing colors, tailoring, and fabrics to accentuate her dark hair and brown eyes. She could not have done better herself. "Thank you." She regarded Janine with a smile, "This shop is local? I didn't think a town this size would have an adequate clothing store."

"Hannah's is a well kept secret." Janine leaned in close and whispered, "They know me by name and stock all my favorites." Her blue eyes met the brown ones gleaming with visions of commerce. She had a new shopping buddy. "Once things settle down around here, we'll go."

"Oh yes, let's do." Starr pressed her lips together resisting the urge to sink her throbbing fangs into the woman's tender, tanned, flesh. Several decades younger than he, she was not as disciplined as her mate. And the temptation of being in such close confines with a human wasn't something she was sure she could endure.

This was their second chance, a new life for her mate and herself. And she did not want to ruin this for him. Sebastian was right. It was better here. Safer here. As much as she would miss the anonymity of living in the city, she would love the closeness of female companionship and having true friends and a family, even more. Starr was brave because her mate made her brave. She could learn to live among humans and in the confines of the brotherhood's world. For him, she could be brave. For him, she could do anything.