Dawn Unleashed

Chapter 78

The normalcy of the upper class neighborhood made Hunter's head hurt. Shouldn't the bad guys have a different street address? Shouldn't there be black storm clouds looming over steep gables and wide stretch of lawn? Shouldn't there be a sign in the yard that read the bad guys live here? The house looked as ordinary as every other house on the block. Ritzy in the quiet grace that only money, and plenty of it, could buy.

He had no idea of what he was going to do to save his son's and everyone else's lives. If only things were the way they were in cheesy B movies. He'd march right up those stairs, through the front door, into the heart of the evil vamp's lair, pound a stake through the son of a bitch's black heart, and be done with it. Reality didn't quite work that way. Even now, standing in the sun drenched front yard, amidst the green grass still heavy with dew, the evil vampire could reduce the whole neighborhood to rubble in less than two minutes flat.

Knocking on the front door seemed like a bad idea, a really bad idea. But, what choice did he have if he were going to save them all? Hunter was unarmed, but far from harmless. His wolf bristled with power underneath his skin. Wolfman versus Count Dracula, he wondered which one of them would win.

Bianca smiled sweetly at the men. Delicately hiding her fuming rage beneath the curve of her expensive lipstick. Nash and Dane were being men, nothing more. They took their time explaining the plans, highlighting areas on the map with dark circles of ink. As if she were some sort of a simpleton who could not even manage to read a street sign without their careful guidance.

Her Guardians were to bring up the rear flank, well out of danger's path, there for backup or cannon fodder, depending on how badly the situation went down. She had two primary objectives. Keep herself out of the line of fire and her Guardians out of the fray. The warriors and their nearsighted estimation of her and her Guardians had made her objectives perfectly clear. They grossly underestimated what she and her group were capable of. "I think we can handle it," she said, tracing a highly polished nail over the circles where her Guardians were to be placed on the map.

Her Guardians were down on the lower floors with the Sons and the wolves, readying for battle. This meeting was for the upper echelon only. She was surprised the men regarded her as worthy of attending at all. Nash, pack master of the wolves: Dane, First of the Sons: The Great Father, all knowing Supreme Being: and a dozen or so others, those who volunteered to lead the offensive were present. "Don't underestimate O'Sullivan. If he gets through us, you and your Guardians will be the only thing standing between him and the human world," a warrior said.

Bianca regarded the warrior with a cool, unconcerned expression. He stuck out like a raisin in a bowl of rice amongst the Sons with his gleaming, fiery red curls and steely gray eyes. He bore the marks of another life etched deeply and permanently onto his right bicep. He might be with the Sons now. But, he'd started out as property of another master. One, she personally was glad had gone to the final death, Roark. Compared to O'Sullivan, Roark had been a pussycat, a very, dangerous kitty. He was, for all his threats and danger however, dead as a doornail. "I don't. If O'Sullivan gets through the first line of defense, through the wolves, to us, we're all dead," she said.

Keene tipped his head at the lady. Beautiful as sin and dangerous as a viper, Bianca made him glad he was happily mated. If there were a female version of Roark or O'Sullivan, it was Bianca. "Rightfully said."

Michael moved protectively to Bianca's side. Keene's stare was hard enough to cut flesh from bone. He didn't trust Bianca. "The Guardians are no match for O'Sullivan. I'd suggest sending a small garrison of our best warriors to the rear lines. He won't be expecting us to have the rear as strongly defended as the front. If he slips through, surprise might work in our favor."

Drew exchanged glances with Nash. Michael was a reliable warrior, tried in battle. He had an excellent point. If O'Sullivan cut through their defenses, he would be weakened. He'd think he'd seen everything the Sons and the Wolves had to throw at him. He would not expect the lethal power of a band of highly skilled warriors with the Guardians at their backs so far from the front lines. "Agreed."

Bianca dug the points of her nails into her palms. Now, not only did the Sons think that her Guardians were incapable. The big, tough warriors thought they needed a babysitter. Michael's speaking up was going to ruin her plans. The fact that the Sons saw the Guardians as weak was one of the few aces she had up her sleeve. They wouldn't be blamed for letting him slip through. As long as she made it look like they'd tried to stop him. With Michael and a band of experienced warriors at her back. O'Sullivan wouldn't slide past her Guardians without a hell of a fight. She had no doubt if he were captured alive. He'd take her down with him. "The Guardians do not need your assistance," she gritted. "We'll take care of O'Sullivan if he makes it to us."

Michael stifled a sarcastic chuckle. "If O'Sullivan saw your Guardians as any kind of a threat. He wouldn't be in your city now."

Bianca's hand connected with Michael's cheek. The sound of flesh smacking flesh cracked like a whip through the silence in the room. "How dare you question the way I lead my Guardians!" she spat out in a rage.

Michael rubbed his aching jaw gingerly. The taste of his own blood coated the tip of his tongue. For such fragile packaging, Bianca had a mean right hook. "I...," he clamped his mouth shut tightly before his anger caused him to do something stupid like voice his suspicions of her.

Drew scowled at the squabbling vampires. The last thing he needed or had time for right now was dissension in his ranks. "Bianca, Michael does not speak for me. His concern for you lets his tongue get the better of good sense. I do not doubt your loyalties or the abilities of your Guardians. No one here does. You and yours have done your best against O'Sullivan. He is a powerful enemy, older than any of us here. We need all the help against him we can get. Surprise is a powerful weapon in battle. We'd be fools not to take advantage of it."

Bianca considered withdrawing her Guardians. Her footing on both sides of the fence was becoming dangerously slippery. Falling flat on her ass wouldn't do. Balanced on dainty stilettos meant more for a night of dinner and dancing than combat, she bowed. "Your wisdom is a guide for us all. As you wish, Great Father." She had to make sure O'Sullivan didn't make it out of the battle alive. The dead told no tales. In death, at least the son of a bitch would still be of some use to her. "I welcome your assistance."

Drew sensed Bianca wasn't on board with the rest of the group and had her own hidden agenda. If they lived past the assault, he planned to find out exactly what she was up to. "Let us retire and ready ourselves for the tasks at hand."

Bianca nodded and turned on her heels. She didn't speak as she brushed past Michael. She hoped the bruises blooming across his jaw hurt like hell. He'd heal. Her private chambers were a welcome refuge. Dark, plush and comforting, they were a haven from the storms of confusion raging through her mind. She took a deep breath of the scent of lavender floating like clouds on currents of air and summoned her First. She was precariously out of time, and there was work yet to be done.

Chapter 79

The afternoon was one of those warm, lazy afternoons where the air was thick and heavy and the humidity seemed to rise up from every blade of grass. After being trapped inside all morning by the torrential downpours promised by forecasters across the state. The kids were ready to get out and stretch their legs. Shayla stretched out across the blanket, her head resting casually on Tracker's thigh and watched R.J. and Evan playing a game of tag.

R.J. toddled behind Evan, landing on his diapered rump in the grass. His chubby legs pin wheeled wildly as he struggled to stand. Marianne, Mouse, had given up the chore of worrying over her family for a few cherished moments of joyous kiddom. Her best friend, the cherubic faced Fallon was as always at her side. Even G.T. safely tucked into his rolling walker giggled and bounced in enthusiasm. His mother, Claire, ever watchful, was within arm's reach of her son. Precious seconds such as these were all to rare anymore. Overshadowed by the danger that loomed over their heads like dark storm clouds about to break free.

Everyone was taking a breather from all the stress in their lives. Stealing a last glorious afternoon before circumstance forced them into the darkness of uncertainty once again. Shayla sighed and looked up through the thick canopy of green leaves over her head. Tracker's fingers lightly toyed with her braided hair. He smiled down at her with mischief gleaming in his brown eyes. "What are you thinking about, Tracker?"

Tracker tugged free the band holding Shayla's braid into its tight weave. He fanned out her hair, a mass of glimmering black waves, over his thigh. Her hair was sleek and it's texture like spun silk beneath his fingers. "Truthfully? About how good making love to you is going to be."

Shayla chuckled, blushing hot like a virgin on her wedding night. "Awfully presumptuous aren't you?" His brown eyes flashed with masculine desire at the heat spreading across her cheeks. Mentally, he was stripping her with his eyes, not that he hadn't already seen what her clothes hid from plain sight. His fingers danced lightly along her collarbone, tracing along the front of her t-shirt, down to the subtle gap where the shirt rode up and her shorts began. The scent of the first sparks of her desire tinted the air.

Her desire perfumed the summer breeze, mingling with the musky scent of his own want. Her back arched, as his fingers traced the bare patch of skin on her stomach. Her body and her wolf responded beautifully to his touch. "I don't think so," Tracker said. There was a heat building between them. Every touch, every glance, every whisper added fuel to the fire. "I'm irresistible."

"Oh really?" Shayla tugged down the hem of her t-shirt and pushed her weight off of Tracker's thigh. She braced an arm on either side of his waist and leaned into his body. The fingers that tickled her stomach so gently wound through her hair pulling her closer. "I can resist you just fine."

Tracker never backed down from a challenge, especially one from this woman. If he had, he'd be back in Texas by now. He guided her closer with his hands at the back of her neck. Her soft, sleek mane of black hair tickled his forearms. Gentle as a whisper, his lips brushed against her and the softness of her sigh traced over his lips like a touch. Their tongues met and mingled in a heated dance of desire. Impatiently, his wolf growled at him. His wolf knew what he wanted, no needed, and what she held, just out of his reach.

"Ok," Shayla breathed against his mouth. "Maybe you are just a little irresistible." His kisses burned her like wildfire in a dry forest. She'd be a fool to deny her physical body craved his touch. Her wolf scrabbled at the door of her mind to claim what was theirs for the taking. In some shadowy place that existed in her mind, the body and heart met. It was there that the showdown had to take place. No matter what her body wanted and common sense told her to do. Her heart stubbornly held on to a hope that was no longer hers to hold.

"Come out with me tonight," Tracker whispered against the shell of her ear.

"Maybe," Shayla answered. And she meant it. Maybe she would. Maybe it was time to quit denying him and her body and finally give in. Let nature take over and end the tortures of their combined self-imposed niceties. He was right making love would be good, damned good, with him.

Chapter 80

Daniel felt the stirrings of his father's presence. Energy from the closeness of another of his kind prickled along his arms. He'd always seen his father as strong, unbendable, untouchable and as an impenetrable force never to be denied. To see him weakened by love for his son. Something Daniel would have never accused his father of before almost brought him to his knees. Daniel had run to Yessette's arms in search of a great love. He'd found it, not from her, but at long last he had the piece that had been missing from his life so very long. "Dad, you have to go. You don't belong here."

Hunter stared at his son. Morning sunlight glistened, making a halo around Daniel's head. At first, Hunter had thought Daniel had gotten her looks from his mother. But, now, he realized the reason he had such a difficult time connecting with his son. Looking at him was like looking into Marianne's eyes once again. "Daniel, I made a pact. I bargained your life for mine. Time for payment has come due. I lost your mother. I won't lose you too. One life lost is better than a hundred. The warriors are coming to defend you. I won't let them die for something as meaningless as one life. Nobody has to die today if I do this."

"At least let Carter and me help. You're right nobody needs to die. But, if someone does, it should be me. I got us all into this mess."

Laughter wrapped around the porch like a vine. Thick and rich, filled with menace. "Yes, you did, Daniel and I am eternally grateful for your little faux pas," Eric said. He walked across the lawn. Dressed in lightweight summer kakis and a brilliant blue polo shirt. His leather oxfords made light squishing noises as they pressed against the tender shoots of dampened grass. He looked ready to sink a nine hole at the country club. "Don't feel so bad, my young Daniel. Many have found Yessette's charms impossible to resist," Eric said, placing a mockingly consoling hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Love makes fools of men, don't you think?" he gave Hunter a wink as he spoke.

"Why you both look so shocked,' Eric mocked. "Doesn't your Great White Wolf have the power to shun the moon and walk in the brilliance of the day?" He sighed deeply. "And what a glorious day it is."

Daniel twisted free of O'Sullivan's grip and stood beside his dad. Eric grinned like the cat that swallowed the canary. "Keep your damn hands off of me," Daniel gritted.

Eric kept his expression free from the pain surging behind his eyes. Color brilliant and blinding exploded around him. He'd gotten what he wanted. The wolves believed he could bear the sunlight. He could not. He was as defenseless against the sun as a newborn pup. Deception was a powerful weapon. "Perhaps, we should move this inside. No need to air our dirty laundry for all the neighbors to see. Is there?"

"You've got your damned sacrifice. Leave my dad out of this, Eric." Daniel pushed past his father and stood toe to toe with the vampire. Carter said he'd know when the time was right. Maybe this was it.

Eric waved off the boy. He tracked him by sense of smell, not with his actual vision. The pain welling behind his eyes was rapidly becoming unbearable. Soon, his illusion would wear thin. His fingers locked around Daniel's wrist, squeezing it tightly enough to make the infant drop to his knees. "You remember our deal," he said to Hunter. "If you want him alive, I'll see you at midnight. Tonight. One second after, and I'll spill his blood in replacement of yours."

Hunter's lips curled over his teeth in a very wolfish gesture. Alone, he wasn't strong enough to fight Eric and hope to win. If he offered his throat, Eric would kill them both. There was no honor in this man and he had no intention of keeping his end of the oath. "Midnight." He watched O'Sullivan drag Daniel into the house. Tonight one way or the other, Eric was a dead man.

Chapter 81

Maggie eyed the dress hanging on a peg on her closet door as if it were the enemy. Tiny patterns of sequins sparkled like stars against a navy blue backdrop the color of a midnight sky. Was she really going to put herself through the torture of going to the prom alone? Probably so. She had the night off of work, thanks to her overly zealous boss who thought every girl should be married off at eighteen. No excuse not to go. Except for one, she didn't have a date. Cole had kissed her so tenderly. Held her as if she were the most important thing in the world to him. But, still she couldn't face the humiliation of debasing her self to ask him to go.

Her mother certainly hadn't helped matters any. Her mother meant well, but the thought of asking her cousin to take her to prom was more embarrassing than going alone. Wearily, she flopped onto the makeshift bench that served as a seat in front of her overly crowded dressing table. Maybe she could make a pathetic plea on Facebook for a date and someone would feel sorry for her and take her up on the offer. Nah, she wasn't that hard up.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Eyes too close together, not quite the right shade of green to be considered sexy squinted back at her. Her nose was too long and too narrow at the tip to be considered cute. Her mouse brown hair was a wild, unruly, mess. Idly, she gathered up the strands into her fingers and pulled them up. She tried out her best come hither look, pursing her lips into a kiss, and almost barfed at what she saw. She looked constipated, not sexy. She couldn't even pass for cute. She was plain Jane, girl next door, ordinary. No wonder she was contemplating going stag to the prom. Who'd want to be seen with her?

She sucked in a startled breath at the sound of a masculine chuckle. "What are you doing?" Cole asked. He leaned casually against the doorframe to her bedroom as if he owned the place.

"Don't you ever knock?" Maggie grumbled. She got up from the bench and slammed the closet door shut before he saw the dress and began asking questions she didn't have answers for. The springs on her bed groaned as Cole, quick as a blur, flopped across her favorite comforter.

"Why the frown, Maggie?" Cole asked. He stretched out on the bed with his hands folded under his head. The aged mattress sagged beneath their combined weight. Maggie curled up into a ball and tucked her knees under her chin. She studied the chipped red polish on her toenails intently instead of answering his question. "You're not going to answer me are you?"

"Nope," Maggie said.

"Well then, I guess I'll tell you about my day instead. This morning I munched on a tender young virgin. Followed by a couple of Red Hatters. And then I..." He spat through the polyester fur of a stuffed rabbit as Maggie shoved the stuffed bunny in his mouth. "Hey, I'm trying to make conversation here," he sputtered.

"Your conversation sucks," Maggie giggled. Cole was too cute, too good looking to stay mad at for very long. He worked his charm the way a master works at oil paints. Her mood had vastly improved since he'd come into the room.

Cole rolled up onto all fours. On the tiny bed, that didn't leave much room. He stalked Maggie, planting one hand on either side of her hips and rested his chin on her bare knees. "Literally. I was kidding about the Red Hatters," he said, winking suggestively at her. Her kneecaps were hard bone covered by a layer of soft, supple flesh. Gently, he placed a peck on each bony surface.

Maggie shivered at the slightest brush of his lips against her skin. Even if the skin was on her knees. It was sexy as hell. Against her better judgment, she stretched out a leg on either side of his hip. His pelvis rested between her thighs, close to the danger zone, but not so close that she felt uncomfortable. "I'm in a bad mood, Cole."

"I see that," Cole said. "Why?" He wanted to climb her like a tree and nestle his body against the soft shelter of her branches. He rested his weight on his elbows, focusing on her eyes instead of the distraction of her breasts, which were within easy reach of his mouth. He bet in less than five minutes, doing what he wanted to do to the beauty hidden beneath the wrinkles and folds of the misshapen t-shirt, he could put her in a hell of a better mood.