Dawn Unleashed

Bianca eased a sigh of relief from between her lips. Michael stomped to the door with a few long strides. His closeness to her was crushing her. She couldn't tell him a thing. The Sons delivered justice swiftly with death's finality. When it came to O'Sullivan, she hoped they did so, for once and for all. The bastard deserved to meet his end. She only hoped that she hadn't earned herself the same fate. "Thank you, Michael," her voice was little more than a whisper, a breath, as she said the words.

Michael turned on his boot heel. His brows knitted together in confusion. What was she thanking him for? He hadn't done a thing except deliver her a warning and a way out that she'd refused to take. He didn't know how deep she'd gotten herself in, only that her words confirmed his suspicions. She didn't face him. Her eyes focused on the thick pane of glass that separated her from the city below. "Bianca, there's still time. I can...,"

She cut off his words with a wave of her palm. She kept her eyes focused on the glass. His dark shape reflected on the window from the open door. If she turned, she'd admit to everything, anything, not to save herself, but for him. She was in too deep. She would not drag him down with her. In a way, if the Sons did find out about her involvement, she hoped it was him that took her head. To die, looking in his eyes, feeling his compassion, would be a far better choice than staring up into the condemning eyes of a stranger. "Don't."

Michael gripped the doorknob in his fist. Go to her. Run away. He wanted to do both. Protect her. Turn her over to his leader if for no other reason than to protect her. So far, in his eyes she was still innocent, confessing nothing. He knew different. She gave away too much in her soft voice and her failure to meet his eye. If he could only get to her before time ran out. Hear the truth from her own lips before then. "You know where to find me."

"I do. Now go," Bianca said. Gathering what strength she had, she kept her feet motionless. So far, the Sons had shit on her. Nothing. She had to make sure it stayed that way. Erase any trace of evidence that might link her to O'Sullivan. The door to her office closed with a soft whisper as Michael left. She pulled out her cell phone. The jeweled case was cold and hard in her palm. Her fingers flew over the keypad, dialing the number of the only person with more to lose than herself. Carter.

Chapter 62

Yessette balled her fist to pound on the closed door and hesitated. How long had it been since her last apology or even a feeble attempt to make one? A century? Two? More? Did she even remember how to say the two basic words and mean them? Daniel was angry with her. She saw the disgust in his eyes when he looked at her and it made her feel ugly, dirty, and ashamed. Her nature was beyond her control. He had to realize that. She had to make him understand. Make him look on her with love and adoration once again.

She didn't know why it was so important to her. That he see her with love. But, it was, more so now than ever. They were in danger. She felt the threat deep in her innermost being and nothing mattered to her more than making some sort of peace with Daniel before the danger separated them forever.

The men, her beloveds, Carter and Eric kept things from her. But, she wasn't stupid. Something big was about to happen. Something inside of her meant to keep Daniel safe. He wasn't responsible, just a pawn in one of Eric's games and nothing more. She'd taken his innocence and used it against him. She could never give it back to him. The essence of the boy he used to be had been brutally ripped away from him. Much like her human life and the innocence of that humanity had been torn away from her. There was no going back now, for either of them. Gathering her composure, she knocked. "Daniel, please answer the door."

Daniel had been brooding, plotting his death for hours. Would it hurt? Carter wouldn't have time to be gentle with him. They'd only get one shot to do this. Seconds meant the difference between his death and the lives of the people he loved most. Life might suck. But, death, knowing he was going to die, certainly sucked a whole lot more.

He could fight O'Sullivan. Carter had said he wasn't strong enough to have an iceberg's chance in hell of winning. Probably, Carter was right. Even if they did fight, Eric wouldn't kill him. Not until the blood oath was fulfilled. The bastard would keep him alive to use as a pawn. At least until he'd gotten what he wanted from his father. Then, the sleazy son of a bitch would kill him.

Carter's promise to end his life gave him some consolation that, if nothing else, he was going to die for something worth dying for. Yessette's soft voice pleading at his door broke through the haze of doom surrounding him. Daniel didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to weaken when some form of victory was so close at hand. If he saw her, he might change his mind and want to live. The fact that she was a murderer hadn't lessened his desire or his love for her. He wanted to hate her and be repulsed by what she was. But, he was helpless against her and his feelings for her. How could he be drawn to love someone so evil?

"Please, Danny. Let me in," Yessette begged. She could just as easily have torn the door from its hinges and forced her way inside. But, she was trying to earn her way across the threshold and coax him into letting her in.

Carter tromped up the stairs, weighted by what he had to do. The link between Yessette and Daniel had to be broken. He dreaded the hurt he was about to cause the boy. At least Daniel would live to see another day. As long as she and Daniel were connected psychically, she could find her way back to him. Where she was going, there would be no return. "Yessette, leave the boy alone," he said.

"But...," Yessette clamped her lips tightly together, locking away her protests at Carter's intrusion. His face was a storm of emotions. Regret. Pity. Anger. Pain. Love. Could Carter still want her after all she'd done to him? She saw it there, burning like a candle's flame in the depths of his eyes. After all, he still cared for her. "Carter?"

"Come," Carter said, extending a hand to her. "Daniel has no place with us." Her hand was soft, dainty, and so fragile, wrapped in his grip. Yessette was perhaps the most damned of all of them. A child, condemned in a woman's body, innocent and so tender. She knew not what she did and bore none of the guilt for her actions. Gently, he swept a lock of her blonde hair over her shoulder. "You know I love you."

Yessette stared up at him with blue eyes wide with wonder and hope. He hated himself more than ever, if that were even possible. She trusted him, believed in him and he was about to condemn her to death, a slow, unbearably painful death. He hoped she'd finally find peace and maybe that he would too. "Let us be together again, Carter." Yessette's voice rolled over him like spun sugar, sickening him with its sweetness. "Forever."

"Forever, Yessette," Carter vowed. At least what little of forever they had left, belonged to her. She was weightless in his arms. His body numbed to the point where he could not feel where their flesh touched. Defeated, he carried her down the flight of steps to his room and stretched her out on the bed. At one time, his body would have responded with passion at the sight of her laid open for him. Now, his body shriveled in revulsion.

She mewled eagerly in his ear, fangs scraping over his skin as he stroked the softness between her thighs. He could not match her readiness. Eyes closed, he retreated to a place deep in his mind. Fled to the arms he longed to hold him. Pretended the fingers grasping at him with delight belonged to Shayla instead. His body knew no difference, flesh to flesh, he swelled, responding to the images in his mind rather than the woman writhing beneath him. With the sheets fisted tightly in his hands, he pushed his way inside of her heat. His mind tortured him with vivid memories of the scent, feel, and passion of the only woman his heart could still beat for.

Carter ignored the tear burning a trail down his cheek. A life for a life, and he was giving his, life and soul, in this final act of contrition. Yessette, too lost to her passions to know any differently, sighed his name on the wake of her orgasm. His body, his Judas, tensed and readied for release. His lips clamped tightly in a thin line to trap the name on the tip of his tongue in his mouth. He filled Yessette with his hot seed. Body to body, now blood to blood, he drove his fangs into her flesh and suppressed a shiver of revulsion as Yessette did the same to him. They were one. Condemned prisoners sharing the same cell till death would deliver them to hell. The boy, Daniel, was safe.

Daniel buried his face into the pillow beneath his head. Sweat from his body drenched the comforter on the bed. Agony, spasms of sheer agony wracked though his body and his mind. In his head, his wolf howled a low, soulful wail filled with torment. Yessette was gone. Ripped away from them. Their link severed. He felt cold and empty without her presence to comfort him. Alone. He'd never, ever felt more alone. Without the strength to move, he stared up at a crack in the plaster ceiling above his bed. Carter hadn't told him what he was about to do. He should have given him some warning before he took her away from him forever.

Chapter 63

Eric congratulated himself on a job well done. Let the Sons come. The more the

merrier. The more, the easier his plan to get them out of his way for once and for all would be. Without the Sons to protect them, the wolves would be easy pickings, his for the taking. He was not a man without resources. Many owed him favors. The scales were always tipped in his favor. He sensed loyalties were not quite what they should be and there were just as many who would like to see him taken out, now that he was cashing in his debts. No matter. Once they saw what he had to offer. That the blood would do as he claimed. They'd be falling at his feet. He could offer them so much more than immortality, much, much more, and they'd want it. Promise anything to get it.

Hunter climbed in the last SUV to leave. He was eager to get his son back. But, he was reluctant to say goodbye once again to his wife, again. Gina was so brave, but even as brave as she was, she'd begged him to stay behind. He couldn't do that. He had to go back for his son. She stood on the porch. Her hand perched protectively over her swollen stomach. Forcing a smile to her lips as she caught the kiss he blew to her.

He nodded to his oldest. Tristen wanted to come, but his place was here. The mission was too dangerous and he stood to lose one son as it was. He wouldn't risk Tristen as well. Mouse, looking more and more like her mother everyday, stood at her brother's side, clutching the porch railing with her tiny fists. He gave her a smile and a wave and climbed into the SUV along with the others bound for the mission. Forcing himself not to look back and focus on the task at hand. At that moment, he didn't know whether it was harder to be the one leaving or one of the ones that had to stay behind.

Chapter 64

Cole glared at John Mark. "I'm going."

John Mark ignored Cole and slid his blade into its resting place on his back. The kid was eager to risk his neck to prove himself. "You will do as I say."

"But, I can help. I know the city better than anyone else."

"You are young and inexperienced. If I have to worry about saving your ass I won't be able to focus on the mission," John Mark countered. Loading a holster strapped to his hip with a matching set of silver blades his leathers creaked as he pulled the buckle a notch tighter. The detail being sent to the city was larger than he would have liked. Those left behind had a much harder job than he did. They had to protect the town, the compound, and everyone inside of their borders. All he had to do was kick some ass. Easy. He'd made sure Cole would be kept busy enough to stay out of trouble. Back to back patrols should do the trick and leave his young protégé far too tired to cause too much havoc.

"But..."

"There are no buts. Do your job and leave your personal feelings out of it. This is not a sparring match. This is life or death and you aren't ready. You can barely control your fangs let alone a pair of blades," John Mark snapped. He was suited up and ready. The thought of going into battle made his stomach turn. But, this was the life he chose and the duty he had to uphold. He had to force his mind into the zone and disconnect from his emotions.

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. His cheeks burned at his mentor's rebuttal. John Mark could be a cold, hard, stoic, son of a bitch when he wanted to be. Dressed in leather with the intricately carved handles of twin blades poking over his shoulders like folded wings, he looked menacing. Like someone no one wanted to see in a nightmare let alone meet in person. But, Cole had glimpsed at John Mark's softer side. Cole had seen it peeking out when he watched John Mark with his mate, Robbie. And sometimes when his mentor wasn't being all gloom and doom, and businesslike, with him. John Mark and he couldn't be separated by all that many years. "How old are you?"

John Mark zipped his jacket. Stains dotted the leather. The blood of his enemies and his brothers could never truly be washed away. With a heavy sigh, he answered, "Older than my years, Kid. Don't worry. Someday, you'll get your chance."

Robert was in the club. Oddly enough, around this bunch of misfits, he felt like he fit in. Strangers nodded at him when he passed them in the hallways. Someone had gone through the trouble to scrounge up some extra space and quite a collection of art supplies. He analyzed the heap in front of him, walking counterclockwise around a gray lump of clay, imagining all the things he could turn it into. Inspiration didn't pay the bills though. Perspiration and a lot of luck did. He had to transform this ball of earth into a masterpiece. His name and reputation wouldn't be for shit if he didn't get something out there to sell.

He didn't want to create another cheesy sculpture to sit in a forgotten corner of a dentist's office and collect dust. He wanted to transform this wad of clay into something meaningful. There was plenty going on in his life and in the lives of those around him to inspire him. Out of all the things he'd seen there had to be something that would translate into the physical world. There had to be a way to mold his thoughts and feelings into reality out of the clay in his hands.

Ultimately, he needed money, and therefore, forgot the masterpiece he meant to create and began to form yet another. A ridiculous statement in his traditional pop culture fashion undoubtedly bound for a doctor's office or hotel lobby. He scowled at the damp clay. Yeah, this piece was destined for a dentist's office, if he was lucky maybe someone would buy it to grace a shelf or a mantle. Either way, the piece was devoid of feeling and emotion, utterly useless. Grumbling under his breath, he tore at the clay and started all over again. Despite his lack of funds, he worked at the clay, determined to make it into something worthwhile.

Chapter 65

Nora didn't like eating in front of David. Somehow it seemed unfair to him. Like she was flaunting it in his face that she could enjoy something he could not. He never complained, almost relished the expressions on her face, watching intently as she chewed and swallowed. She hated that this simple act was such a big thing between them. It reminded her of how pitifully human she was. "You're staring," she said in between bites.

"Sorry," David said unapologetically. He liked to watch Nora eat. Something about the way she poked at the food with her fork, stabbed it, put it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed fascinated him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember what chicken tasted like. He couldn't recall the texture of the meat on his tongue. Sauce dripped from the tines of her fork onto the plate. With his eyes he followed the dripping liquid from the bite on her fork. "Is it good?"

Nora sighed and dropped her fork on the plate. It landed with a noisy clatter against the china. Angrily, she pushed the plate and its half eaten contents away. At this rate, she'd starve to death. Not that she minded that her clothes were baggy, but she didn't want to become a walking skeleton. All anyone who wanted to drop a quick ten pounds had to do was invite David over for a few meals. Having him watch her eat was unnerving. "I'm done," she said, snatching the plate off the table.

"You weren't finished yet," David protested. He frowned at the way her jeans bagged on her too thin frame. Was she on a diet and hadn't told him? She looked perfect just the way she was. Why were women always so concerned about their weight? Such volatile creatures, he'd never understand them. "Nora, sit down and eat."

Nora hastily scraped the remains of her dinner into the trash. She stormed to the sink to wash out her plate. "I can't do this anymore, David." Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. All she could feel between them anymore was their differences. He was so focused on keeping her human that he'd forgotten her, the real her, in the process.

"Nora, what's the matter?" David was confused. If she didn't like her supper, he'd go out and get her something else. Anything she wanted. His brows furrowed as he counted the days left in the month. She wasn't PMSing. The tears weren't hormonal. What did he do? How could he fix it quickly, and with the minimal amount of bloodshed, preferably his. "Honey?"

Nora pushed past David. Damn his vampire speed. One minute he was sitting at the dining room table the next he was in the kitchen trying to comfort her. She didn't want comforting, nor did she need it. What she needed was for him to see what his constant denial of her request was doing to her and to them. "Stop it! Just stop it! Stop all the vampire crap and look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

David was completely blindsided and utterly clueless about what Nora was so upset about. He saw lines of stress and fatigue forming around the edges of her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. Tears glittered in the dull light. Her bottom lip quivered. Her cheeks were colored red with the heat of her upset emotions. "I don't understand."

"No you don't. That's what the problem is. You never understand. I'm human, David. Not because I want to be, but because you're forcing me to be. With me like this, we're too different. How can you love me? How much longer can I love you?"

David sucked in a breath and gripped the edge of the counter. She thought her humanity was coming in between them? Splitting them apart? Already he'd taken too much away from her. She'd never have children, because she loved him. She was asking him, had been asking him to take away everything she had, her most valuable possession, her life. "You don't want to be human. Ok. Fine. You win. But, when you come to your senses and realize what you've given up. Don't hate me then. It'll be too late."

"David, I could never hate you."

"I do. I hate what I am and yet you ask me to turn you into this monster! You have no idea what you're asking. You are the closest I can come to being human again and you're willing to throw it all away. For what?"

"For you. For us. David, I've seen what you are and I'm not afraid. Please. Do this for me. Forever isn't long enough to love you. David. Please." Nora reached up and cupped his tearstained face in her palm. Standing on her tiptoes she pressed their lips together and whispered, "Give us our forever."

David's shoulders quaked with the weight of his sobs. He cried like he'd never cried before. Tears splashed against her fingers, collecting in her palm. Everything he had. All he would ever be was in her hands. Yet, he'd rather leave and never see her again than give her what she asked. "I can't. I haven't got the strength to end your life. Hate me if you must. But, I can't give you what you ask of me."