Dawn Rising

"Hang a right at the edge of the drive. I know a great little Chinese restaurant not far from here. Does that sound ok to you?" Alex asked. The Chinese place wasn't much to look at as far as appearances went, little more than a grungy dive in the seedier part of the city. Not too far from where she lived. But, a better shrimp mei-fun could not be found, anywhere. Her stomach grumbled in eager agreement.

"I uh," Lucien hesitated as he eased on the breaks at the edge of the drive. Flipping on his turn signal he guided the SUV to the right. The tires slid on the ice then caught on the edge of the salted pavement. He paused and he thought of an explanation. He hadn't planned for an invitation to dinner. "Part of our creed prohibits the consuming of processed foods."

Alex sighed in disappointment. Denied the hot, steaming bowl of mei-fun she had her heart set on. Her mind was churning as she ran down her mental list of restaurants and eateries. She couldn't think of anyplace that served organic, unprocessed foods. At least, not on her shoestring budget, and she had agreed to buy him dinner. She glanced at Luke from the corner of her eye, hopeful. There was a pub down the block from her house. If he couldn't eat, maybe she could buy him a drink. "Can I at least buy you a drink?"

"Yeah, I think wine is acceptable in this instance. Feel free to grab something to eat if you want. I wont be upset if you do. It's been a long day for you too. You must be starving."

"Turn left here. We're not too far from the pub now." Actually, she was starved. Skipping breakfast because she was late, and lunch, because she'd been too nervous and had simply forgotten about it. She tried to trace back to the last time she had eaten and drew a blank. The dreams always left her without an appetite.

The ice glittered reflecting the lights of the city. Everything was quiet, almost magical. Clean looking beneath the blanket of white snow and hard crust of ice. "Start slowing down, it's the next block up on the left." Alex paused, "Do you see it?"

Alex felt immediately at ease sitting face to face with Luke. Donation in hand, the stress of the day melted away. She avoided looking into his eyes unable to shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. She ordered a hot tea and a bowl of French onion soup while he ordered a red wine. They made small talk as they waited for their order to arrive. "So tell me more about The Sons."

"Most of our meetings are in secret. Membership is by invitation only. There are h...," he stopped himself just in time before he gave away too much. Pausing, he grinned at her. "Membership is at different levels, only those who are direct blood descendants of a great warrior may hold upper offices and participate in certain ceremonies." Sitting with her like this in the familiar surroundings of a neighborhood pub sent a surge of longing through his heart. As a kid, he'd imagined what they'd be like when they grew up. Move away from home, go to college, get jobs, get married, have babies, grow old together, so many things and possible outcomes. He hadn't, couldn't have imagined what would actually happen to them in the future.

He longed to caress her cheek, to be close to her. Confess his secrets. Surely there was something about him that she recognized. Something. Was he really so different? Over the years had she given up and fallen out of love? And could he blame her if she had? Alex visited his grave. Hidden in the thick copses of trees surrounding the tiny cemetery where he was supposedly buried, he'd watched her cry over him year after year. She came the same day, more often, but always on the same day every year. The day he died.

Lucien clenched his hands into fists to keep his fingers from reaching across the table to caress her cheek. As long as she came to see his memorial, he knew a part of her still held on. The reality of it was that in fact, for all practical purposes, he was dead. He had to be. He wasn't the boy she loved anymore. Time and circumstance had changed that. He shouldn't hope she hadn't stopped loving him. He should hope, instead, that she had. That she had moved on and built a life for herself, a life without him in it. Wasn't that better for the both of them?

Alex's stomach grumbled happily at the sight of the waitress bringing her food and Luke's glass of wine. She was too hungry to be embarrassed about eating in front of him. Their conversation was congenial enough. Small talk, nothing too personal or threatening, but she felt a wave of tension radiate off him. Maybe it was his body language, suddenly tense and on guard. Or the way he looked at her, so intense. She had no idea what she'd said or done to set his reaction off. The waitress and the food was a welcome diversion.

Alex's eyes grew wide at the sudden flair of Luke's tension and the way as quickly as the mood came, it faded. Searching for something to say, she inquired, "Are you a direct descendant?" Too hungry to wait for him to take a sip of his red wine, she wound the bubbling stringy Parmesan cheese around her spoon.

"Yes. By blood." He unrolled his napkin and gathered it between his fingers. Eager to change the subject, to let his hands have the luxury of one more touch, he scooted toward her gently holding his napkin in between his fingers, "Here let me help you. You've got a piece of cheese right there." He slid the napkin down along her jaw line and up to her lower lip.

"Oh, thanks," Alex said, her face turning red as she took the paper napkin from his hand and dabbed at the glob of cheese stuck to her chin. Smooth as a porcupine's backside, she thought, wadding the napkin in her fingers. The soup was good, rich and beefy, chocked with sautéed onions and spiced bits of crouton. But, unwilling to make a bigger mess out of the stringy, melted cheese, no matter how delicious it was, she pushed the bowl away. At home, there was cereal in the cabinet. Alone, it wouldn't matter what she dribbled from her spoon. She opened her mouth to ask more questions when he silenced her with his finger.

"Why study Native American cultures for a living? What got your interest?" Lucien asked, his eyes intent upon her. He was curious. Was her draw to his culture some innate desire to bridge the gap between them? He was certain, she didn't know. Her parents had never told her exactly how connected they were to the Sons.

"My first boyfriend was Native American and his family were members of the Shawnee Nation. I guess that's what sparked my interest in Tecumseh and Native American culture." Her eyes misted over as her mind wandered in private thoughts. Spoon swirling absently in the neglected soup. "My parents thought I was nuts, wasting their hard earned money on a degree that would never land a solid prospect for my future."

Lucien studied her, the sadness that radiated off of her tore at his heart. "What happened?" he asked his voice gravely with pain at the mention of their past. The past she didn't know she had with him. "To your boyfriend, I mean."

Alex grimaced taking a deep breath, "He was killed in an accident. It was long ago and a story for another time." She sighed and dropped her spoon in the cooling soup. The congealing mix of onion and chesses in an ocean of brown broth didn't look so appealing anymore. "I guess I wasn't that hungry after all." She forced a smile. Talking with Luke, divulging just that little bit of her past with an almost stranger, somehow made her feel better and worse.

"I'm sorry for prying." Lucien replied. He took her hand in his, wrapping it tightly in his fingers. "No more unhappy thoughts. What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

Alex blinked in surprise as he lifted her hand to his lips brushing it gently across their velvety softness. "Ah, we will do the recording and that should wrap it up." She blushed at the contact, as innocent as it was, sliding her hand out of his. "I really should let you get back to your hotel and get some rest. We need that voice in its best form tomorrow."

She rose from her chair. Before she realized it, he was standing next to her holding out her coat. Shyly, she slid her arms in and pulled the wool over her shoulders. "Ah, I can walk the rest of the way, it's only a block max." Alex reached inside her purse and felt around. "Look," she said as she pulled out the tiny can of mace. The mace was a token purchase to appease her father. Mace wouldn't stop a bullet. Mace wouldn't do much of anything except piss an attacker off and get her killed quicker. But, if it made dad breathe easier, she'd carry it. "I'll be perfectly fine. It's too much of a hassle to drive just up the block. Really, you've done too much as it is."

Alex swatted at Lucian's hand as he reached for the tab. "This is my treat." She smiled up at him with determination. She wasn't rich, but she could afford the tab. The meager salary of a museum curator allowed her a luxury here and there.

"As the lady wishes," he replied, bowing low. "But I think I really should accompany you the rest of the way home. There are some things out there that use mace as breath freshener."

"Oh all right," Alex grinned, flattered by his display of chivalry. He was right. The morning paper she'd spent forty-five minutes reading this morning while she waited for the train was full of murders, missing people, and violence. The crime rate in the city was skyrocketing at an alarming rate.

The night air was damp and cold against her cheeks, cooling her skin as they walked. Stray bits of snow drifted down from the buildings and swirled in the air. A couple of times she slipped, almost loosing her footing and landing on her ass. Luke's grip was tight on her arm, supporting her. "Well, here we are, home sweet home. See, no major problems, no boogey men lying in wait for me." Alex teased. The dimness of night in the city softened the garish concrete and steel structure looming over her.

Lucien stepped closer to Alex, resisting the urge to bend down and claim her lips. She was oblivious to his eyes on her, preoccupied by pawing through her purse for her keys. Snow moistened the crimson tendrils that escaped from under her hat. The cold reddened the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheek. Her scent was so appealing to him, like a meadow on a warm summer's day, so at odds with the stench of exhaust, rotting garbage, and the general aroma of too many people crammed into such a small space. "Good night," he whispered hoarsely.

Lucien knew he'd curse his impulsiveness later. He was about to break his vow. Stupid, he shouldn't have made the promise to begin with. He hadn't understood at the time, how hard, how impossible it would be to stay away from her. He slid an arm around Alex, relishing her warmth, drawing her close. She looked up at him, half in shock and half in desire. Her eyes mirrored the longing he felt. She didn't realize the truth. But, somehow her body had fit together the pieces her mind refused to sort. On an elemental level, she knew him.

He felt her heart pounding and her skin warm as blood rushed to her cheeks. Lucien's head descended slowly, giving Alex time to turn away, to reject his lips. His mouth brushed against hers in a soft, sweet, tender kiss. Encouraged by her lack of protest and the snaking of her arms around his neck, he slicked his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss to match his burning need to taste her, to consume her, to claim what laid dormant and unrecognized so deep within her.

Alex's heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. All her senses were on overload. Her body responded to the feel of his mouth on hers. With a fire whose flame she'd only felt the faintest burn of, years ago. What was she doing? She had just met this man today and here she was wrapped in his arms sharing a kiss. Timidly, she slid her hand from around Luke's neck and pressed her fingers against his chest, stroking the soft, buttery feel of good leather against their pads. If he didn't stop, if she didn't stop now, she wouldn't be able to and she had never asked any man up to her apartment, let alone a stranger.

Janine was the big believer in love at first sight. Not her. This, making out with a man on her porch stoop, was crazy.

Lucien gently released his hold on Alex and backed up a step, giving her space to sort out her feelings. Stroking her cheek, he softly whispered, "Ulethi equi'wa." My beautiful lady, the thought circled in his mind, drifting on currents of longing. He wanted more. More heat. More touch. More of Alex. After twelve years though, he had become somewhat accustomed to the virtues of patience.

"Not beautiful," Alex whispered, withdrawing her fingers from his chest. The words, not their content, but how he said them, the sound of them, sent shivers up her spine and made things below her beltline quiver. Soft as velvet, sweet and smooth as cream, the words rolled off his tongue. Spiced with a hint of sinful, indulgent delights that made her sigh in longing.

He smiled down at her. His eyes tinted gold with desire, "Very beautiful." He could smell her awakened desire, like dew on petals opened to the dawn light. Even if she hadn't understood his native tongue, which, she had, she would have understood the deeper, hidden message behind them. He wanted her.

" I need to go." Alex replied. Her voice trembled like a schoolgirl's. What she wouldn't give to be more like her best friend. Janine was so confident. So secure in who she was and what she wanted. And if she'd wanted Luke as badly as Alex wanted him, she would have invited him upstairs. In that, Alex had always envied her best friend. Janine was so free. And she, bound by an old heartbreak that served no purpose in her life.

"Curfew?" he teased. A part of him wanted her to break out of an adulthood of staunch rules and rigid custom. Ask him upstairs. Invite him into her bed. His own life was governed by a strict regimen of rules. For just once, he wondered what it would feel like, be like, to let them go. Be who he was, with her. Who they might have been...together...if fate hadn't interceded and torn them apart.

"Common sense." She fumbled for her pocketed keys and stepped back. Out of his shadow cast across the icy steps from the garish illumination of the lighted overhang. Idiocy seemed to be the theme of her life. Not only was she passing up the opportunity to invite this gorgeous stranger up to her apartment for a night of sex. She'd done something worse. Settled for practicality. In the morning, she might be proud of her determination and self-restraint. But, for the time being, the idea of spending another long, dark, night alone left her cursing her morality. A little heat, no matter how brief the flame, had to be better than shivering in the cold. "Sorry."

Lucien took the keys out of her hand and tried one key after the other until the right one slid into the lock. He held the door wide for Alex, blocking it open with his foot as he dropped them into her palm. He latched on to her wrist, pulling her to him, as she moved to wrap her fingers around the keys in a fist. Hurriedly, he stole another kiss, wanting just one more taste of paradise before he let her go. Alex's response was automatic, as urgent and desperate as his need. He wasn't the only one destined for a cold, lonely, bed tonight. His mind was heady, his ego bouncing along the roof of his brain like a balloon filled with helium along a ceiling, at the breathy gasp that escaped her lips. She wanted him.

Abruptly, Alex backed away. "I'll see you tomorrow." Her voice was low and deep, barely able to contain the emotions she was feeling. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night in his arms. To know the love she had never felt before. Her mind argued with her heart, winning out. It always did. Her parents hadn't raised her to be especially religious. But, somehow asking this stranger, no matter how tempting and soft his lips, was wrong.

Alex forced her body away from Luke's and entered the foyer. Jokingly, trying to break the awkwardness crackling like static in the air between them, she asked, "Do you need to borrow my mace?"

Lucien threw back his head in a roaring laugh. Mace. Wasn't that cute? No he didn't want her mace. He wanted her. Maybe he could kiss her senseless, or perhaps, kiss some sense into her. Make her mind acknowledge what her body already did. But, it was just impulse talking. Spending the night with her. One night. Would not be enough. Better to ache than to take a small taste of what he couldn't have.

"I think I'll be alright without it." He smiled broadly. "Good night, sleep well." Lucien turned and buried his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, facing an icy gust of wind that cut him to the bone as he walked away. Behind him, he heard the rattle of plate glass in the door's wooden frame and the soft snick of a lock. The sound made by Alex as she shut out the night.

There was something warm and familiar about his kiss, something familiar about the way he smelled: masculine, a musky mixture of pine, the woods, and earth. And the way his eyes held her captive. There was no doubt about it. Luke reminded her of someone. Someone she once loved and still did. Lucien. She held a trembling hand to her lips, remembering the feel and taste of the boy. The thought was ridiculous and absurd. There was no room for the thought in her exhausted, addled brain. Quickly, she pushed it out of her mind. The stairs to her third story apartment were a work out on good days. Tonight, they'd be too exhausting, too painful for her battered leg to endure. Opting for the death trap her apartment manager loosely called an elevator, she punched the button for her floor.

Chapter 4

Exhaling, she was thoroughly physically and emotionally exhausted. Alex made her way though her shoebox apartment, not bothering with the lights. She changed for bed. So cold, more from loneliness than the weather, she pulled on sleep pants and a long sleeved thermal top.

Needing to forget the warmth of the feeling of Luke's mouth burning against hers in the heat of a kiss, her electric blanket on high, she shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin. It was just a kiss, nothing more. But she felt as if she'd committed some grievous sin. Betrayed the memory of her lost Lucien. The tears rolled down her cheeks. Lucien was gone and had been for a long time. She had to let him go. Start living again. There was no harm in enjoying a kiss, even if it was from a stranger, no matter how familiar he was. Forcing her mind to be still, she closed her eyes. In a matter of moments, her mind drifted off sleep, ushering her into a world of dreams.

Subconsciously, Alex kept waiting for the nightmare to return as it did every night. Even in her dreams, she harbored the dread. She waited for the familiar, haunting screams and the acidic, harsh scent of burning carnage. Instead, she found herself wandering through a sun-dappled meadow. The air was fresh and smelled like summer. In the distance birds sang their trilling melodies. The sky was bright and full of fluffy white clouds. Although, it was a beautiful place and the most wonderful dream she had in a long time, she didn't trust it. The nightmare would come.

"Lucien," the name fluttered off her lips in a whisper. Her heart was so eager for him. She didn't want to believe this was a dream. But, it had to be. Lucien was dead. He died in that car crash, the one that had maimed her leg twelve years ago.

But, here he was, captured in her mind's eye, grinning at her with a boy's sheepish, slightly mischievous grin. She loved it when he smiled at her like that, boyish and sexy, like the smile just for her. His smile always melted her making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the universe. His shoulder length black hair was free, gently dancing around his face carried by the sweet smelling breeze. Instantly, she was transformed. Her aching limb replaced by young muscular flesh, strong and whole. Her heart was that of a sixteen-year-old girl deeply in love, not the weary, battle scarred one of a woman searching desperately to hold on to her passion. Eagerly, she ran toward him, leaping into his arms.