Dawn Unleashed

Yessette approached the boy. Young. Tasty. A gift from Eric. She licked her lips eagerly in hunger. Eric gave the best presents. "Shhh," she coaxed, kneeling at the boy's side. Her fangs slid from their hiding place, aching with need. The boy stilled in her arms. Daniel's accusing words filled her mind. He called her a killer. She knew no other way. She had to eat or she'd die. What was simpler than that?

"Brant, all will be well. I promise." Her lips brushed against the throbbing pulse point in the frightened boy's neck. Marking the remainder of his time here on this earth with a steady beat, his heart pounded against her mouth. Her fingers stroked down his back and felt the muscles stiff with fear. Really, wasn't this a better end for him, more merciful than allowing time to ravage his body and his mind? She was sparing him decades of slowly withering away to an empty shell. Hunger replaced pity as she dove her fangs into his flesh.

Eric loved to watch Yessette feed. Very, very few survived her kiss. She was amazing. Lethal and efficient, she took the boy down and delivered him into the waiting arms of death. He sighed contentedly, tempted by the scent of fresh blood. She was everything he'd wished Carter could have become. If only her sanity would have remained intact after he'd rescued her from the greedy fingers of the Grim Reaper. Yessette was equal parts blessing and burden. She was the nasty little secret he hid deep in the closet. She would never be independent of him. "Yessette Love, he's dead."

Reluctantly, Yessette lifted her head from the boy's neck. His body was limp and cooling in her arms. "Can I keep him?" Eric provided her with plenty to eat, but he never, ever said yes to her demands. She liked to dress her victims in pretty clothes. Play with them afterwards as if they were dolls. That was, until death ate their flesh away and they became too ugly to keep.

Gently, Eric eased the boy out of Yessette's grip and flung the corpse over his shoulder for disposal. He pitied her. He was ashamed that he'd ever created her, when she made this request. By this time, the question was more like a game. "You have an entire room filled with trinkets and dolls. Why don't you go amuse yourself with them while I clean up the mess." The body landed on the floor of the idling van with a heavy thud.

Yessette smiled up at Eric. Once, much to his horror, she'd managed to squirrel away an entire family. He'd punished her. Locked her up in a dank cell for a decade to survive only on half dead bits of life. His eyes were burdened. Lines of weariness creased his face. Today, she didn't push her luck. "Anything for you."

Eric closed the cargo doors to the van and pounded on the back for the driver to pull away. He'd been so jealous of her, once up a time. That she preferred Carter's good looks and charm over his. In all the centuries that they'd been locked together by the cruel hand fate had delivered him into. She'd never looked at him the way she had Carter. She saw him as a provider. A father. But, never as the thing he desired most, as a lover. "No, Yessette," he whispered after her, "anything for you."

Chapter 58

Daniel thought he'd come to terms with his own death. Offering his life to assure his father's sounded like a pretty good idea in theory. With time rapidly growing to a close, he found his conviction wavering. Maybe, it was the knowing of what was going on beneath his feet in the basement that made him have second thoughts. Eric deserved to die, not him. Eric drove Yessette to take human life. Encouraged it even. Her hunger and his desire bound them together in a way that Daniel could not understand.

He felt Yessette's presence like a breath of cold air gusting over the back of his neck. She was too beautiful to be so ugly. No matter what she'd done he knew he could never hate her. He hated himself far worse for loving her. This mess was his fault. Grimly, he turned to look over his shoulder. A tiny speck of dried blood on her chin ruined her otherwise flawless beauty. "Don't," he said, turning away.

"Daniel, you have to understand." She dropped the hand reached to him to her side. She disgusted him to the very fiber of his soul. He didn't want her to touch him. The game she'd played had taken a decidedly sour twist. "Please."

"Don't touch me! There isn't anything you can say to make this right. I can't...not right now." She solidified the fact in his mind that he was going to die. Soon. Carter was as good as his word. He'd do what he'd asked of him. Their pact was a certainty. The only reason he stayed.

"You hate me," Yessette said with disappointment tingeing the lilt of her voice.

"No, I hate what you are." Daniel watched Yessette bolt up the staircase. A part of him wrenched into knots at the pain he'd caused her. But, he didn't chase after her. He couldn't comfort her. He couldn't trust her with the things that weighed so heavily on his mind. There was no comfort she could offer. So few got to choose their own deaths. In a way, he should consider himself lucky. There were so many goodbyes he wouldn't get to say. But, at least, this one he had. His life and his death would ensure that she and his father, the two people he loved most in the world, were safe.

"Young love," Eric said, tisking mockingly, "so unpredictable."

"Go to hell," Daniel growled. He glared at the smug vampire through narrowed eyes. Instinctively, he knew better than to take the bastard on. O'Sullivan's maniacal laugh stoked the coals to a hot burn of fury.

"Such language. You know there's no escaping me, boy. No matter where you go. What skirts you hide under. I'll find you. Too bad I entered a blood pact with your father. You might have proven quite an amusing source of entertainment. Perhaps, there is more of dear old dad in you than I thought."

Daniel barely controlled the wolf under his skin. Panting, with his molars pressed together he squashed the urge to shift and let his wolf do his worse. He would, if not for one simple fact, he and his wolf would lose and there'd be no one to prevent O'Sullivan from making good on his promise to harm Yessette or his father.

"I'm standing here defenseless. I have no weapons at my disposal. Shift, boy, shift and show me what you're made of. Let me feel the wrath of your wolf," Eric taunted. He could take this boy, wolf or no wolf. Being that the terms of the blood pact were not specific as to what condition he had to return the boy to his father, he welcomed the sport. "Come get me."

Daniel bristled at the invitation. The smug bastard deserved to be ripped to shreds. He knew he didn't have the strength to do it. "You'll hurt Yessette."

"I'll leave her to clean up the scraps that are left of you when I'm finished. Perhaps, if you're lucky there'll be enough left for her to manufacture a new toy for her amusement. Maybe, you'll even survive the turning. What do you think, boy? Ready to walk on the wild side? I prefer type AB negative, personally. You may prefer another. I see you as an O positive type myself. There's plenty, of course, to go around. I think the humans have been in control of this planet long enough. We could herd them up and set them out to graze like cattle. Just for fun, I think we'll start with your father, and then maybe your sister, for dessert. Don't you have cousins, nieces, and nephews too?"

"Son of a bitch!" Daniel's muscles coiled and released as he made a desperate dodge for the vampire's throat. Strong hands, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, stopped him at the last moment.

"Don't," Carter warned, barely keeping a hold on the rabid boy by his shirt collar. "Don't give him a reason."

Eric clapped his hands and chuckled, "Soon enough, boy. You'll sit at my table, either as the main course or one of my guests. You decide. Carter won't always be around to save you."

"Eric, enough! Leave the boy alone," Carter growled. Damn, he'd just gotten back from the country to find Eric and Daniel at each other's throats. Obviously, Eric was baiting the boy and Daniel had swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker. If he'd been a few minutes later, who knows what he would have walked in on. "Eric, if you're through taunting the child, we have business to discuss."

"Business? How intriguing." The boy forgotten, for the moment, Eric retreated into the quiet of his study.

"Keep it together," Carter hissed at Daniel under his breath. "Soon," he breathed, releasing Daniel with a rough shove. His boots scraped across the sleek polish of the wood floor as he made his way to Eric's study and slammed the door behind him.

"What is it?" Eric huffed impatiently. "What could possibly be so important that you had to ruin my entertainment for the evening?"

Carter collected his composure. He owed Eric, as his maker one last chance to give up this foolish quest. "You need to leave town. Forget the wolves."

"Whatever for? Bianca has the Guardians well in check." Eric dismissed Carter's concerns with a wave of his hand. Give up now? When he was so close? Was Carter insane?

"Bianca's powerless to stop what is coming your way."

"And, pray tell, what would that be?"

"The Sons."

Chapter 59

Shayla stood at the window like a fool waiting for a knock on her door, an apology, something. Instead, she had caught a glimpse of Carter's pale skin as he disappeared into the woods without so much as a backwards glance in her direction. Even though she realized what they had was long over and done with. A part of her still ached for him, no matter if he deserved it or not.

She wandered over to R.J.'s toddler bed and stroked the soft, caramel colored skin of his cheek. Carter was not her son's father, biologically. R.J. looked so much like the man he was named after that at times their resemblances were uncanny. Ramon would have been proud of his namesake. He would have looked upon R.J. with love and absolute devotion. Ramon would have never have turned his back on his son. She missed Ramon everyday. He held a special place in her heart that would never belong to anyone else, not even to Carter.

A stray tear she didn't even know had fallen trailed down her cheek. Her chin rested on the headboard of R.J.'s crib as she riffled her fingers through his unruly black hair. The whole situation was unfair, both to her and to Tracker. To any man that might cross her path. Any prospective suitor had plenty of competition. The ghost of a dead husband and the ghost of a man who still lived, but didn't love her anymore. Who'd want to bother trying?

Tracker stood in the doorway to Shayla's room. The sight of her tears and the expression she wore on her face, that of a crushed, heartbroken, and defeated woman. Outraged both him and his wolf. This female deserved so much more than she was willing to let herself have. All because of that damned vampire. One glance at Carter and he'd shattered her fragile spirit into shards. "He is gone."

"I know," Shayla said. She crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the chill that had settled over her. Tracker stood silently in the doorway, for what she didn't know. Possibly, he was here to rub Carter's abandonment in her face, to gloat, or bear witness her pity party? Angrily, her fingers wiped away the moisture from the tears still hot on her cheeks. "You have to go back to Texas."

"Why would I do that when what I want is here?" Tracker asked. He approached Shayla calmly, slowly, without threat, just as he would a wounded animal. Her chin quivered and her eyes glimmered with the sheen of tears not yet fallen. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the distance between them.

"Its not fair, to either one of us, to continue dragging this on. I still love him. How can you compete with that?"

Tracker stifled the snort building in his throat. "In case you haven't noticed. Carter isn't here to offer any competition," he said confidently.

"But, he's still here," Shayla said, pointing to her heart. The thud of her heartbeat pounded against her fingers.

Gently, Tracker placed his fingers over hers and said, "So am I. You hate that I'm slowly, bit by bit, pushing him out. You try so desperately to hold on to him. For what reason, I can't pretend to guess. Sooner or later, you'll let him go and I'll be there for you. Our lives are long. I've got plenty of time."

"I want to let him go." Shayla winced against the heat of Tracker's fingers pressing against her heart. She knew letting Carter go was the only thing that made sense. But, a small part of her heart still grappled to keep its hold.

"Then do it. Do whatever you need to do to rid yourself of him. If you need to cry, use my shoulder to cry on. If you can't bear the weight of the burden of your heart, give it to me to carry. Anything you need. Anytime. I'm here."

Tracker guided Shayla to the empty rocker in the corner, easing her onto his lap as he sat. Sometimes even adults needed the comfort of a pair of warm arms around them and the gentle, lulling motion of a rocker, gliding back and forth. She was light in his arms. Weary to the bone from the fury of her emotions.

The self-deception that came with denying oneself of the basic pleasure of another's touch was a practice he knew too well of. As an Omega, he watched, he guarded, and he protected. That was how he'd survived the long dry spells in between the few scraps of affection thrown his way.

Even his brother, his twin, Eloise's favorite, suffered. Mistress Eloise, back when she'd been their mistress before she'd granted their freedom, used them plenty, sometimes him, sometimes his brother, sometimes the both of them at the same time. But, it was just scraps from the table intended to keep them loyal to her. He didn't hate Eloise for her part in it. The bits of affection she'd shown them gave him a rare glimpse of what it felt like to be normal and to be loved.

They functioned as extensions of one another. Both trained to be killers, defenders of their mistress, without thought, obeying her word as law. They didn't need to think for themselves. They were raised to serve. Taught to deny emotional and physical need. Emotions and physical desires could get you killed. Could make you hesitate at the critical moment. The simple gesture of touch was a luxury.

Catcher dealt with it in his own way. Busied himself with work and tedious tasks. He hid in Texas trying to preserve the old ways and the only home he'd ever known. Tracker wanted no part of the past. He plowed head first into the future. He wanted a mate and future, children and family, all the things that had been denied him. Now he had a choice in how his life would go. He still might die in defense of the greater good. At one time that was how expected to go. At least now if he did, it'd be his decision.

He gently pressed Shayla's cheek against the curve of his neck. Her breaths were warm and sweet, teasing along his skin. She felt so good in his arms. He was contented with just holding her, protecting her from the pain of her emotions. Rocking the rocker with the heel of his boot, he offered her the only thing he could. The only thing she'd take and allow him to give. Solace.

Shayla bathed in Tracker's heat. Let the warm sensations wash over her body and calm her mind. His heart was a steady beat against her cheek. The chair moved ever so slightly, almost entrancing her as it rocked back and forth. Occasionally, the wood would groan beneath their combined weight with a soft sigh. She felt safe in his arms, cherished. Greedily, she took the comfort he offered. Until now, even with the few stolen kisses they'd shared, she hadn't realized exactly how lonely she'd been or how much she'd missed being held.

Her fingers scraped over the dark roughness of stubble sprouting on his chin. Unsure how long she'd let him hold her while she indulged in the comfort of his embrace, she moved to free her body from Tracker's arms. His arms held her fast against the rise and fall of his chest. She didn't protest, but sank back into the warmth of his body pressed to hers. Her mouth found its way to the curve of his ear. His scent was of wild and man, pine, and the soft musk of his wolf. "Thank you, Tracker," she whispered.

Tracker's fingers snaked through the loose strands of her hair and gently gripped her scalp. He was so fast, turning his chin toward her face, connecting their mouths in a desperate, stolen, soft kiss. "You're welcome," he breathed against her lips. Her body was soft and compliant in his arms, molded to him. Encouraged by Shayla's lack of resistance, he hazarded another sampling of paradise.

Time was on his side. Determined to wait her out until she finally let Carter go for good, he released his grip. He was pleasantly pleased when she remained seated in his lap. Her delicate palms cupped his jaw. The pads of her thumbs scraped against the rough stubble of his cheek. Shayla's expression softened as she stared into his eyes and became, just a little more his.

Chapter 60

John Mark scowled at his star pupil disdainfully. Yesterday, Cole had been on his game. Today, he was a sad disappointment. Clumsy. Heavy on his feet. Distracted. There was no point to continue with the training session. Cole was physically present, but there wasn't anybody home. John Mark dropped the spear he'd been using to jab at Cole and grabbed the boy's chin between his fingers, jerking his face up with a hard yank. Cole's skin had a sickly pale cast to it. Thick circles of dusky blue ringed his eyes. John Mark had been waiting for this time to show itself and it had. "You need to feed."

"I did," he answered. Though John Mark mercilessly squished his lips between two massive fingers. He eased a sigh of relief as his mentor released him, scowling and muttering under his breath as he did so. Cole was trying to keep pace with his teacher today, but his mind wouldn't stay focused and his body wouldn't obey the simplest of commands. He felt sluggish and weak. Drained. But, he didn't understand why. He ate, just as John Mark had instructed him to.

"No," John Mark shook his head. "It's time you took a donor's wrist again." He understood Cole's hesitation to admit his hunger. Only once had Cole fed on human blood, on the night of his turning. If he didn't sate his need soon, something worse would happen. He'd made that fact painfully aware to Cole. He had high hopes for Cole and he really didn't want to kill him. But, if his pupil went rogue, he'd have no other choice.

Bloodlust would eventually win over emotions and sensibilities. Any squeamishness one might have at the thought of taking a vein, forgotten. Cole had to get used to this reality of his existence. He had to consume human blood or be consumed by it. "You're weak."

"I'm fine," Cole countered, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. Maybe he'd be the rare one that didn't necessarily have to take human blood to survive. Hopefully. His mind replayed last night's near miss at Maggie's neck. His fangs lengthened in eager response. Nope, he had to have human blood and both his mentor and he knew it.

"Do you wish for me to summon the girl?" John Mark prodded. Cole was doing this. Tonight. If he had to puncture the vein himself and wave it under Cole's nose to rouse the appetite the boy was struggling to deny, he would.

"Maggie? No," Cole retorted in horror. If he didn't know better he'd swear he was blushing in shame. Last night had been close, too close. He'd almost bitten her. Almost. He wanted see her as something besides a human juice box. There was a depth to Maggie he was just beginning to see, more to her than she showed other people and maybe even more than she allowed herself to see. He couldn't reduce her to snack food. He couldn't, and didn't want to look at her as food at all.