Dawn Rising

Kore leaned against the rough bark of a tall, gnarled maple tree, perhaps older than she, staring at her brother with distain. "What do you mean you've lost her scent?" She rolled her eyes and stroked a piece of her silky, black, mane between coifed fingertips. Impatiently, waiting her dear brother to get on with it.

Kiros ran his eyes down his sister's lithe frame, studying the dark outline of her shape against the rough bark of the tree. Kore was much more practical than he. She would have never have let the human get away in the first place. Kore never savored her food. She had no appreciation for the finer things in life. After centuries of trying, he'd given up hope that he would ever teach her.

Blood was a feast for the senses, to be enjoyed like a fine wine. Kore was ruthless with her meals. Never took the time to savor the essence of fear, the thudding beat of a heart as it pounded in terror. For him, it was all in the presentation. He liked beautiful things. Not Kore, she killed. Took what she wanted. Quickly. Efficiently. Kiros doubted that her victims even realized they were dead till Saint Peter greeted them at the Pearly Gates. "The mind connection is gone. I've lost her." He kept himself at arms length from his sister. Waiting for her to boil over into a rage.

Kore stepped forward, running a flawlessly manicured hand along her brother's cheek. "Brother, you have drug me out here into this godforsaken wilderness and for what?" Her brows drew together tightly. Her dark eyes flashing with pent up rage. With a lightening fast move, she drew back her hand. The sound of smacking against flesh was satisfying. "Another one of your damn obsessions, Brother?" Her voice was a soft purr, "There, there," she soothed, rubbing his reddened cheek.

Kore quickly checked her anger. Her brother was an embarrassment. For centuries she'd struggled, against her better judgment, to keep him alive. He thought killing was an art. He took his time with his prey, savoring every drop. Not that there was anything wrong with that, in the proper place and time. In a back alley, with the Sons breathing down their necks, was not the place or the time.

Perhaps, it was a matter of pride for Kiros. Prey didn't walk away from the hunt. Prey died. The dead told no tales. Not that in this age of technology anyone believed in the old myths anyway. The days of angry mobs armed with crosses, holy water, and pitchforks were long gone. And man's denial of the mystic worked in their favor. If her dear, demented brother had simply killed that girl, they'd be in the city taking care of business instead of here in the backwoods of some Podunk town, tracking the bitch deeper and deeper into the Son's territory.

Kiros leaned his stinging cheek heavily into the palm that cupped it. "Sister," he whispered reverently, running his lips along the coolness of her delicately tapered fingers. She was angry with him. But, this gesture meant she forgave him for this small indiscretion. Soon, their plans would come to fruition. They wouldn't have to hide in the shadows any longer. They'd dine on the finest humanity had to offer. Live without fear. The Sons would be no more. And his kind would feast.

Kore regained her temper, tightening down the reins. "Brother, let's return to our home." She extended her bottom lip in a pout. "I'm cold and dirty and we haven't had a decent meal all day. Come back to the city and I shall find you a true beauty to dine on. The finest cuisine there is." After an eternity together, she knew her brother's every weakness. Seductively, she wound her body around his. "Forget this girl."

Kiros shuttered beneath his sister's hands. Temptation made his mind dizzy with its possibilities. "Sister, I do not fail. I have no wish to place you in danger. Return to the city without me. Tend to our affairs. As for me, the hunt awaits. The girl's life is such a small matter. No one takes the prey from my hands." He unwrapped Kore's arms from his neck and slipped silently into the night.

Did his sister have so little faith in him? The Son had committed the most grievous of insults. Interrupted his meal and snatched it out of his hands. He had a score to settle. It was a matter of honor at this point. That girl, her measly little life, which was far too short, meant nothing. The Sons had been in power, dominated this land, for far too long. Soon enough, they'd learn who was really in control. But, impatience had him tromping through the woods. It was time for the Sons to be taught a lesson.

With a disgruntled and heavy sigh, Kore followed Kiros. She only agreed to accompany him in the hopes of finding out more about the mysterious Sons. There were legends. Whispered stories meant to scare the young ones into obedience. She cared little about her brother's latest quest. She had her own agenda to concern herself with. She dejectedly kicked at a fallen limb, sending it flying off into the underbrush. Kore shook her head, watching as Kiros lifted his nose up into the night air, trying to catch the scent of humanity. "Sometimes, dear brother, I swear you will be the death of me."

Patrick and his fellow warriors darted through the masses of tree trunks deep into the forest on silent feet. They tracked the sweet scent that danced lightly on the cool night breeze. At first, he wasn't absolutely sure. But, as they drew closer to the scent, sweet, so cloyingly sweet, like burned sugar. Now, he knew beyond a doubt. Vampires be here. He stopped short, his brothers close on his heels, fanning out in an offensive pattern into the darkness. He drew in a lungful of air, filtering through the musty fragrance of pines and decaying flora. He turned abruptly, racing northward as he closed in on the scent.

Alex stirred, her sleep interrupted by the gentle, careful movement of him slipping his arm out from under her head. "Shh," he whispered, landing a kiss on her forehead, "Go back to sleep." The light outside was tinted with the palest gray of dawn. The hunger that stirred within him had awakened once again. And he was hoping to grab a quick bite before she awoke for the day. Lucien tucked the covers tightly around her shoulders, rolling her up in a cocoon of warmth.

Chapter 33

The morning was a chilly one. A light coating of frost clung to tender spring shoots. Out of habit, he shivered from the damp coolness in the air. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that he wasn't human. The cold didn't really affect him. He couldn't die of hypothermia. Frostbite would never nip at his skin. Silently, he slid into his jeans and out into the woods around him.

Lucien caught the scent of a doe, not more than fifty feet from where he stood. He enjoyed hunting with his brothers. The thrill of the chase and the victory of taking down prey tamped their instincts to hunt more interesting game, primarily humans. Deep in their core, no matter what they thought about it, the Sons were predators. Silently, he moved out, instincts aroused by the musky scent so thick in the air.

Alex drifted in a dream world. Images flashed through her mind as she slumbered. She saw pines and the rough, brown/black of trees as they flew past her. She caught the musky scent of a doe and saw the forest flash past the edges of her peripheral vision. A feral growl echoed in her ears. Instinct roared through her body. Hunt. Capture. Feast. She felt the animal's fur, coarse and damp beneath her body, fueled with the thrill of the chase. There was a satisfying pop as fangs pierced deep into flesh, tapping into a vein. She felt the rush of the doe's lifeblood gush into her mouth and roll down her throat. Deeply pleased, sated with the hunt, some primal part of her gorged on the life trapped in her arms.

The kill stirred much more primitive emotions deep within her. Animal life bonded with her own. Gave her strength. Alex saw a cool, pool of water with white morning mists rising from its placid surface. The cold of the water stung needles through her body. Invigorating her with its chill.

Alex shivered, jarred to wakefulness by the realness of the dream. It wasn't a dream, she realized. Lucien was sharing his thoughts. He was at peace here, surrounded by nature was one of joy, pure happiness just to be alive.

Alex wrapped the blanket around her tightly. The little fire on the hearth had dwindled down to a few glowing embers. And the cozy, little wigwa was cold as a creek rock. She wasn't a card carrying member of PETA or anything. But, she didn't want to stumble upon Lucien while he hunted. She was better off if she didn't think about where his meals came from or hers for that matter. Gingerly, she opened the wooden door and stepped into the pale light of morning.

The woods sleepily greeted her with a chorus of sounds, sights, and smells. Alex had never noticed things in such minute detail before. She smiled as she tossed her head back, allowing the glory of dawn to wash over her. Her mind tingled and her blood stirred within the confines of its flesh. Lucien was close.

She took a deep and opened her eyes, watching as he approached. A wide, utterly content, and slightly mischievous smile spread across his face. He was soaking wet and the morning was a cold one. If he was cold, he showed no signs of it. Beads of water trailed from the end of his hair down his broad chest. His jeans were dry. He must have taken them off before he dove into the pond. Casually, he brushed a tendril of wet hair from around his neck, flicking moisture from his fingertips.

Alex opened her blanket to greet him. "Hi," she said. His damp body was freezing against her bare skin as he nuzzled against her. Skinny dipping might be fun when it was ninety degrees in the shade. But, when the temperature barely topped forty, it was cold, damn cold. Involuntarily, she sucked in a breath at the chilly press of his body. Lucien was a caveman, lifting her up, pulling her legs tightly around his waist, carting her back inside the wigwa. Chuckling at the goose pimples that popped up along her exposed skin.

"Hi," he replied, kissing Alex deeply on the lips. She felt so warm, so soft. Her body wrapped him like a living blanket. She stirred another need within him. One hunger was slaked. But another one, one just as urgent and necessary to his existence on this planet, flared to life. His groin kicked to life from the gentle tickle of her folds along the sensitive skin. He growled playfully, nipping a trail along her collarbone.

"Put me down you beast," Alex cried out, giggling, as his lips feathered along her skin, lighting a trail of desire. She felt his erection stir to life between her thighs. Uncertainty still hovered at the edges of her mind. She was just beginning to understand what power she had over him. What her body could do to him. Pretending not to notice the effect she had on him, she wiggled in his arms. Pressing her softness to his erect flesh. He gasped, gripped her hips tightly, pressing his length against her. She laughed wickedly. "I know what you're thinking," she teased. Lucien grinned and waggled his eyebrows, chuckling as he lowered her to the soft layer of blankets to claim his prize.

After a long, languid, lovemaking session, the sun was high in the sky and light spilled in through tiny cracks in the woven window coverings, bathing their bodies with its brilliance. Alex rested her chin lightly on Lucien's chest, relishing the feel of his heartbeat against her skin. "How come you're not burning to a crisp right now?" she asked, tracing a narrow beam of light that danced across his cheeks with a fingertip.

Lucien snorted, amused by her question. "Myths created by Hollywood, Love." He ran a finger down the slope of Alex's nose. "It is true, most of us prefer darkness. Daylight is hard on our sensitive vision, almost blinding. But, I can't even get a suntan, let alone burn to a crisp."

Alex raised an eyebrow. All the questions she wanted to ask scrabbled for space in the forefront of her mind. Which ones were the most important? And which ones could wait? Lucien pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. Alex sucked his finger into her mouth and bit down on it, gently grinning as he groaned in response. "You are causing a problem," he said, rotating her body against his hips, showing her the incredible magnitude of his problem.

Alex blushed and slid her body down along the hard surface of muscle and flesh, navigating his longing to meet hers. She moaned as Lucien gripped her hips, pushing deep within her. Instinctively, she rocked, feeling the wave of pleasure that was building within the both of them. Her breath came out in short puffs, increasing the speed and depths of her thrusts. Lucien enveloped her in his arms. Her name a curse and a prayer on his lips, uttered in urgency, with the intensity of his release surging into her body. All of that heat, all of that need and pleasure coursed through every molecule of her being and her orgasm followed quickly on the heels of his.

Alex ran her fingers through his hair, lost in thought. She was still connected to him psychically. His soft member was clenched into place by her walls. His happiness and contentment flowed through her mind, permeating every nerve fiber. But, something still nagged at her in the back of her mind. She was careful not to dwell on it. At least not for the moment, after all she was still on vacation. Soon she would have to return home and back to her life. How would Lucien fit in?

Lucien looked up at Alex. His thick dark lashes veiled his eyes. Expressions floated across her face like clouds across a sunny sky. He knew she was keeping her thoughts to herself. He longed to push the clouds away so that he could bask in the sunshine. But he respected her privacy. She would talk. Ask the questions on her mind, when she was ready.

Alex's stomach rumbled noisily in complaint. How could he forget to feed her? Embarrassed at his lack of forethought, he lifted his head. "Lets get you home so you can get something to eat."

Alex sighed, "Yeah, I guess it has been a while." she patted her stomach, blushing as the soft ripples along its surface. Hurriedly, she pulled on her jeans and shirt. She watched Lucien, slide his jeans on, fastening them over his muscular, flat, belly. Only he could make putting clothes on look erotic and graceful at the same time. He grinned as he followed her gaze trail over his body. "You're amazing, you know that?" she said, her voice heavy with arousal.

"C'mon," Lucien said, as he held out his hand to pull Alex out of the pile of blankets. The way her eyes trailed over his body, so filled with lust and desire, was not going to accomplish his task. He'd like nothing better than to throw her onto her back and pound into her. But, she needed food. After she was properly fed and tended to...then they could come back to their din of pretend privacy. That was if her father didn't have the shotgun loaded and waiting for him. After all, he had kept Alex out all night. He had deflowered her. And Alexander was territorial over his daughter; like a father bear protecting his cub from the world.

Lucien took his time walking Alex back to the house. Her fingers wound through his, locked in a tight grip. He wondered how long this honeymoon phase would last. Alex was relaxed. Her arm swung their joined hands back and forth to the rhythm of their steps. He'd hadn't felt this good, as if he didn't have a care in the world, for a long time. This brief reprieve from danger couldn't go on forever. They both knew it.

As long as that Rogue was out there, it wasn't safe to let their guard down. And foolishly, they had. There was one way out of danger. A risk. A thought that Lucien had stuffed so far back in his mind that Alex would never stumble across it. If the rogue had no human to hunt, he had no reason to be at the Son's backdoor. There'd be no more danger to Alex, if she weren't prey, but a predator. She'd never be in danger again. Lucien could teach her to take care of herself.

Alex pulled Lucien to a stop at the edge of the bumpy, overgrown path leading from the edge of the pasture to the house. "Lucien, what is it?" His body was suddenly tense. His fingernails dug into her palm. His grip so tight on her hand that it hurt. His mind, closed off, behind an impenetrable steel wall meant to keep her out.

As quickly as Lucien's mental block went up, it was down. His hand relaxed its grip on her fingers and circulation, tingling and biting pins and needles down to her fingertips, rushed to the ends of her fingers. Alex resisted the urge to pull free from his hands and shake the blood back into her fingertips. "What?"

Lucien shrugged her off. The idea was a selfish and stupid one. Alex barely understood his world. His brothers and he would find another way to keep her safe. "Nothing," he mumbled in reply. He sounded like such a girl. Saying "nothing" when something was obviously bothering him was such a girl thing to do. Hastily, he scrambled for something to erase the doubt in Alex's mind. "Does your dad still keep that shotgun of his loaded?"

Alex snickered. So this was what all of this was about. He'd practically squeezed off her fingers because he was afraid of her dad? Hell, she was a grown woman; far beyond any fear of her daddy's wrath. Besides, it wasn't her dad he needed to worry about. Janine was far more creative in the many, many ways she could torture the both of them. "Yeah, with rock salt to scare raccoons away from the garbage cans. Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Chapter 34

Janine sat on the back porch, awkwardly fumbling with a ball of bright yellow yarn. Finally fed up with her endless pacing back and forth from the windows to peek out the curtains, to the back porch to stare out over the pasture, to the front porch at the slightest sound, Leigh had tried to teach her to crochet. Just so she'd have something to do besides pace.

What a disaster the lesson had been. Janine couldn't figure out the simplest of stitches. Her fingers were too shaky to hold the hook. Her mind too frazzled with worry to concentrate on the simple steps. Make a loop with the yarn, pull the yarn through the loop: wash, rinse, and repeat. Resigned to the fact that she didn't have a domesticated bone in her body, Leigh had assigned her the task of rolling the skeins of yarn into round balls. So far, Janine had three clumsy lumps of yarn in the basket at her feet.

Alexander had quickly disappeared into his retreat, the barn, shortly after breakfast, mumbling something about having to fix the lawnmower. The barn sat in a no man's land between a sprawling pasture and the backyard. Close enough that Janine could hear the occasional clank of a tool, metal against metal, and the nasal twang of country music from the open door. The singer crooned over the woes of a life gone wrong. Somehow, Janine could identify.

For the elder Grays life went on as if today was just an ordinary day. Janine could not wrap her head around the concept. From the open window at her back, Leigh puttered around in the kitchen, humming a tune Janine didn't recognize. From the garage, she caught the gruff sound of Alexander's voice muttering a curse and the subsequent slam of a tool striking the weathered wood of a barn wall. Today was not an ordinary day. She had the feeling that since that morning Alex had been jumped in the alley. No day was ever going to be an ordinary day.

Alex and Lucien had yet to make an appearance. Janine hoped they were having fun, because, she was bored out of her skull. The balls of yarn might prove amusing enough, for a kitten. But, she was no cat. And she was not entertained. Idly, she dropped her ball of yarn to join the others in the basket and fished a new skein, this one baby pink, out of the plastic bag occupying the chair beside her.