Dawn Unleashed

Yessette did her best to comfort Daniel. He stared at some point on the wall behind her, absently, blankly, as if she weren't touching him at all. He didn't even so much as flinch when her fingers grazed the tiny pin prick scars left by her fangs on the side of his neck. "Please Danny, try to understand. I love him. I always have," she said gently.

Daniel said nothing. He didn't give the slightest blink in response to her words or her touch. He didn't care. Coming to terms with the very real possibility of his own death at the age of eighteen took precedence over any thoughts about Yessette. He'd done all he could for her. Ensured her safety. Given her his very soul. He had nothing left but emptiness and she couldn't have that. The big nothingness in his heart was his, only his, for as long as he had left to live.

He tried to believe in the goodness of the afterlife. What would the Goddess think of him? He'd replaced Her with the empty shell of a woman named Yessette. Would she still have him in her heavenly realm or would she reject him as he'd rejected her. Was he really ready to find out?

Yessette's hands fluttered over him like soft, feathered bird's wings. He wanted to tell her how much it had cost him to give her up. The pain of the nothingness inside of him filled the place she used to live in his heart. He kept his mouth shut. Carter had made it very clear. She was to be told nothing. If she knew, so would Eric. Yessette would never understand that he'd done it for her. Given up everything for her.

All he had to do was keep Eric distracted while Carter whisked Yessette to safety. Daniel knew Eric would torture him, make him beg for death, but he wouldn't kill him until he got what he wanted. Carter would make good on his promise. Daniel wouldn't have a drop of blood in his body once the oath was fulfilled. But, at least his blood would be safe and not used for evil.

Yessette dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. Daniel wasn't responding to her. She felt a weight in her heart. Guilt and regret gnawed at her for the first time in so many centuries. What started out as a game ended up badly, for them both. She only meant to gain Eric's favor and she had. She had the jewels and clothing to prove it. But, it had cost her something she'd never realized she even possessed. Self-respect.

She didn't love the boy. That honor was saved for Carter alone. He would always be the one who held her heart helplessly captive. But, it pained her to see Daniel in so much agony. If she'd been human and had the right to choose her own destiny, she might have chosen him. Someone warm, alive, with a heart that would beat only for her. They would have had children and lived to a ripe old age, dying as they'd lived, deeply in love. Things like that didn't happen in their world. Time marched on without them. She'd stay as she was, and so would he, for centuries. For them, there was no escape. Only death.

"Goodbye Daniel," Yessette said, rising from the bed as she smoothed her silk skirts. She walked across the floor silently, despite the three-inch stiletto heels on her feet. She turned to glance over her shoulder and gave him one last disparaging look. He still refused to meet her eyes, staring blankly into nothing. "I truly am sorry. I wish I'd had the chance to love you back when I was still human to do so."

Chapter 72

By the time Maggie reached her apartment and scrambled up the steep wooden stairs to her front door she was soaked. The storm was one of those storms so common to the Midwest. It blew up with a fury of rain and wind, the loud boom of thunder, and brilliantly blinding flashes of lightening. The storm would leave as quickly as it came, drenching the night and the thirsty earth with a pelting rain that might last for hours.

She turned at the sound of her aluminum lawn chair crashing off the deck to the gravel drive below. Set off by a loud clap of thunder, a car alarm sounded blared its horn, waking the neighbors the storm hadn't yet managed to rouse. It never ceased to amaze her the number of people who could sleep though anything. Maggie resisted the urge to rush down the stairs and cower in the safety of her parent's fully finished basement. Like she used to do when she was a kid. She wasn't a kid anymore and she wasn't scuttling off to the safe haven of her parent's wings.

Her fingers trembled as she fiddled with the key in the lock. A bolt of lightening made her duck into the collar of her work polo as the light stretched its fingers across the sky. She wasn't scared. She wasn't scared. When the storm grew calm and the tornado sirens sounded. That's when it was time to be scared. That's when she'd head straight to her parent's basement, wimp or not.

A gust of wind ripped at her wet clothes. The door flung open, torn from her fingers and she was practically pushed inside by the force. She pressed her body against the door, shutting out the storm and stood on the tile floor dripping. After a quick shower and dressing in her best run for it shorts and t-shirt, just as a precaution, she checked the battery in her weather alert radio before she climbed into bed. Better safe than sorry. Burrowed in the bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, she winced at the symphony of thunder and pounding rain. Somehow, she managed to drift off, dreaming of glittering ruby slippers and green skinned witches with ugly brown warts on their noses.

The sound of water drops rolling and falling, landing with a wet sounding splat against the floor woke Maggie from the fringes of a dream. Raindrops spattered against her bedroom window, lightly tapping in a rhythmic succession. The storm was over and there was nothing left but the rain. She rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders, trying to ignore the unpredictable splat of water droplets falling and hitting the carpet, just a little to the right of her head. "Damn,' she whispered. Her dad was going to have kittens if the roof had sprung a leak and the antique golden shag carpet that had been exiled from the family room to the above garage apartment sometime just after she was born was ruined.

Weary with that way that only three A.M. can make a person feel, she sat up and flung back the covers. The trip to the kitchen to fetch a pan was going to be a long one. But, if she saved the carpet, maybe her dad wouldn't take having a leak in his roof quite so badly. Blinking in the darkness, she fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand and flicked it on. Blind, she squinted in the light waiting for her eyes to adjust.

Once her eyes finally adjusted and her sleepy vision cleared she sucked in a breath. Cole stood about a foot from her bed, staring down at her with blank eyes, silently staring, ghostlike in their emptiness. "Cole?"

Water rolled from his hair, down the shoulders of his soaked leather jacket, ending at his fingertips with a wet splat. His body shook with cold and his skin was pale as death. He was drenched, standing in her bedroom, looking at her with haunted dark eyes, but not really seeing her. His body was here. His mind was somewhere else, someplace terrible. "Cole," she said in a small voice, soft and slow, like one would use to speak to a wounded animal. "Are you ok?"

Cole didn't answer her. He didn't even look in her direction as she reached down and snatched a blanket off the end of her bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. His skin was so cold. A blanket wasn't going to warm him at all. The thick knit of wool crochet would just end up as soaked as he was. She eased off the bed and tiptoed around him. She kept her movements to a minimum, slow and deliberate. He wasn't himself. Right now, she didn't know who he was or where his mind was. But, if she rushed him or made any sudden movements he might strike, lethal and dangerous as any rattlesnake. It was best not to poke a stick at a dozing snake that was powerful enough to suck her dry in less than three minutes. "I'm just going to help you out of your jacket, ok."

His skin was so cold beneath her fingers she gasped. The wet leather was more difficult to pry free from his arms than she would have thought. It was like peeling the skin off an orange. Slowly, she inched the jacket down his shoulders and over his biceps. The black leather landed on the carpet with a thick, very wet sounding, thwap.

She frowned at the array of weaponry hidden beneath the wet leather. His black t-shirt clung wetly to his chest like a second skin. "You've got to be freezing," she whispered. Awkwardly, her fingers, trembling with nervousness, moved to unbuckle the straps around his pectorals that held the biggest of the blades in an X across his back. A breath eased between her lips as she worked the assembly free. The blades were beautiful in their craftsmanship with intricately carved onyx handles and sharp, lethal arcing, silver edges. Meant for a warrior's strength and size the weapons were heavier than she'd expected.

Cole looked like a teenage version of Rambo with all the weaponry creatively attached to his long, muscular body. Her eyes were wide with surprise and shock. She'd never seen a Son dressed for battle before. While she disarmed him, working at the crisscross of straps and buckles, she spoke softly and calmly. His body was rigid beneath her fingertips. The muscles rippled with tension and readiness. The assortment of beautifully carved daggers and blades weren't as large as the two across his back. But, they were every bit as deadly, if wielded by the proper hands.

The sidearm strapped to his right hip was the easiest to pull free. Maggie knew a thing or two about guns. Somewhat of a tomboy, she'd grown up hunting alongside her dad. The Glock was heavy and unwieldy in her small hands. She cleared the chamber of a round and emptied the clip onto her dresser. The gun wasn't for humans. A vampire didn't need a gun to take down a human. Fangs and brute strength worked quite nicely. A gun would hurt a vampire without a kill and send a very, very potent warning. But, then again, put enough bullets in anything and it would stay down, permanently.

"Whew," Maggie whispered. Relieved that the task of stripping Cole of his weapons was over. Without the mass of blades and black leather he looked somewhat less menacing. His body shivered beneath her palms as she ran them down the muscular ridges of his abdomen. "We've got to get you out of these wet clothes," she said. Focused on the task at hand she gathered up the soaked hem of his t-shirt and tugged it up his chest. His arms didn't budge. "Help me, Cole."

Obediently, he lifted his arms. To her, that proved at least someone was home. The t-shirt made wet sounding sucking noises as she strained on her tiptoes to pull it over his head. "You need a hot bath," she said, slowly backing away. His arms fell to his sides like limp noodles. His eyes blankly stared at the floor as if she weren't even there.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she plugged the drain and filled the tiny bathtub with hot water and fragrant bubbles. There wasn't much a long, hot soak in the tub couldn't cure. After he got warmed up and into dry clothes. Maybe then they could talk. She didn't know what had happened. But, something bad had happened. The thought occurred to her that she might be pouring a bath and adding an extra dollop of vanilla scented bubbles for a murderer. He might have slipped up, taken too much or lost control. Angry with herself at thinking such horrible things about him, she turned off the water and pushed up from the edge of the tub. "C'mon." His fingers were blocks of ice against the warmth of her palm. She would not think of Cole as anything or anyone but Cole. She saw who he was behind the fangs. He definitely and undoubtedly had the capacity to kill, but he was not a killer.

With a hand pressed to his chest, she halted him in front of the tub and guided him into a sit on the closed lid of the toilet stool. Tugging with all her might, one boot, cold and wet as winter slid free. A blade she'd missed clanked against the tiled floor with a soft chink. "Cole," her voice was skittish as a newborn foal. "I'm going to take off your pants and I want you to get into the tub." His fingers rested against hers, stopping them from wrestling the buckle of his belt free. Ah, so he was home after all. Sort of.

"It's ok. I won't look. Promise." With the belt free, her fingers gently coaxed his zipper down. Her face heated hot and red as a second-degree burn as the thick leather pants fell free over his hips. She promised she wouldn't so much as peek at what was behind the pants. His package wasn't the important thing here. His heart and soul were. She forced her eyes up, way, way above his waist, she guided him into the tub and inched him into the steamy water.

Unsure of what to do with herself, she stretched out his pants and t-shirt over the towel rack to dry. Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the tub. His body, at least the parts she'd promised not to sneak a perverted peek at, were submerged beneath a thick layer of frothy white bubbles and steam. Her favorite poofy, squishy sponge floated along his back. Idly, she picked it up and squeezed a torrent of hot water and suds down his spine. Tracing the dark indigo trails of the tattoo stretched across the tight skin with the sponge's corner. "What happened tonight, Cole?"

Cole felt the heat of the water permeate through the chill of his skin. Some vampire he was. If an enemy chose to attack right here and now, what was he supposed to do? Loofa him to death? He'd allowed a female, a human female, to disarm him and douse him in smelly, girly stuff. One more thing to add to the list of shame that was his life.

Inside, the water did little to thaw the winter that had settled into his soul. He'd taken a human life, not for food, or for defense, but for a friend. Ms. Temple, Nora, wasn't dead. She was worse, much, much worse than dead. He'd taken her life and left her with nothing more than a blurred reflection of her prior humanity. The chunk of his soul that he'd given in payment for her immortality left a hollow empty place. He was a vampire, as far from human as he could get. Somehow though, he'd managed to keep his humanity intact, till now. "I'm no better than the thing that killed Rachael," he murmured.

The water splashed and bubbles slowly rolled down his shins as he drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his closed eyelids into their bony surface. Tightly as he could, his arms wrapped around his calves and squeezed as if by doing that, he could hold himself together. The sponge was a soft, warm whisper across his back. Hot rivulets of suds brushed over his skin like fingertips. "I did it to save David. He said he didn't have the strength." Cole strained back a scream through gritted teeth. "I was selfish. I did it more for me than for him. I was afraid that if I didn't. Someday, I'd have to kill him."

Maggie's hand hovered over the bubbles. The sponge gripped in her fingers dripped into the tub. "What did you do, Cole?" Her voice was hesitant and soft. Dread welled in the pit of her stomach as he took a deep breath to answer her question. He looked so vulnerable, naked and curled into a ball in her tub, utterly innocent and harmless, like a cub that would someday grow up into a ferocious lion. Please don't let him be a killer. Please.

"Everyone says this is a gift. To me, it's a curse." He turned his head and rested his cheek on the curve of his knees. Eyes open, he studied Maggie in the harsh white glow of the ceiling light. She was so alive. More alive than he'd ever be, perhaps had ever been. As a human, he'd wasted the life he was given. A year ago, if someone had asked him what he knew about life, he would have cockily answered, everything. He didn't know shit. It took dying to realize the truth.

"You're so fragile. Breakable. Alive. I took that away from someone tonight. And this is what I gave her instead. It wasn't a fair trade."

Maggie blew out the breath she hadn't realized was trapped in her throat. He wasn't a killer. Relief surged through her body. Thank God. She took her time, rubbing the sponge over his back and down his shoulders to eat up the silence. "Some would say it's a great honor to be chosen to share your gift. I know you don't feel that way about it, right now though." She squeezed the sponge in her fist, washing a deluge of vanilla scented bubbles and warm water over his head. "I think what you did took a lot of sacrifice on your part. You had the courage to give of yourself for someone else. What's more human than that?" With the tips of her fingers, she slicked his hair back out of his eyes.

Cole sighed and rested his chin on his knees. His grip on his shins relaxed a little. He was fractured, but no longer felt as if he was falling apart. Maggie slid along the edge of the tub to sit at the front, near the water taps. He couldn't face the gentle smile on her lips. Not yet. His gaze wandered to a bubble moat floating along his shins, anywhere but her eyes so full of trust. Gingerly, she stuck the tips of her toes into the water, shooing away the moat. "Look at me, Cole."

Her eyes met his and for a second she floated, lost in the intensity of the hues of rich brown. These weren't the eyes of a boy, or the eyes of a predator, but of a person, just an ordinary person, like her. Timidly, almost shyly, she ran a finger along his jaw, forcing his chin up and his eyes to stay locked on her. "You are more human than most people I know."

Cole rested his chin on the pads of her fingertips. She had a faith in him he couldn't comprehend and doubted that he'd done anything to earn. "Sometimes, I don't feel very human."

Maggie sighed, "I know what you mean." She sank her feet into the water. The tips of her toes, brushed the top of his foot. His feet were long and thin, bony. She sleeked her big toe over the top of his big toe, feeling the fuzziness of a tuft of hair on its surface. The hem of her shorts was soaked with water that had gathered on the rim of the tub. But, she wasn't cold. The bathroom, tiny as it was, was filled with clouds of warm, fragrant steam.

The bubbles were getting dangerously thin. Already more of his skin was showing than she felt comfortable with. She was an adult. Nudity shouldn't embarrass her. Yet, she found her stare straining to peek beneath their frothy surface. Blushing, she felt his eyes on her, studying her intently.

A deep breath caught in her throat at the beauty of him. Wet droplets of water clung to the ends of his hair, capturing light and sparkling like diamonds. His skin was slicked with moisture, highlighting every muscular bulge. The water stopped at the flat plane of his stomach, just above the dip of his navel. A patch of dark hair trailed down, partly hidden by a narrow path of white suds. Tingles of awareness sent shivers down her spine.

A devilish grin spread across Cole's face as he followed the path of her gaze. He should be mortified by the vulnerability he'd shown Maggie. Naked and soaking in a tub, he should feel shy and embarrassed. He didn't. Stretching, he unfolded his legs and lounged against the cool porcelain surface. His toes poked out from beneath the bubbles. There simply wasn't room enough to for all of him to fit in the cramped tub. Islands of frothy white floated like clouds on the water's current. Most of him was covered by the filmy formation of suds, most of him. "You're peeking," he teased.

Maggie blinked and forced her focus on his face. The smug, cocky, knowing smile spread across his sensuous lips sensuous lips sent a furious blush along her cheeks and up her neck till they burned like fire. "I am not!" she snapped.

Cole sat up straight in the tub. He liked it when she looked at him. Displaying the raging hard on tugging at his groin might be overkill though. He did his best to hide it from her view. Casually, he rearranged the scanty bubbles that were left over his hips with the palms of his hands. "I think I'm turning into a prune."