Dawn Unleashed

Shayla lifted her face to the heat of Tracker's breath on her lips. Without the weight of her self-imposed prison of pain to hold her down, she felt almost buoyant. Tracker's words skated over her skin like the gentle caress of a lover's touch. He waited patiently for her to answer his invitation. His body trembled against her, shivering and tense. His patience with her was a hard earned thing. A low, eager growl from his wolf, vibrated against her chest. "Absolutely," she said breathlessly.

A gasp left her lips as Tracker lost himself to his beast and flung her on hands and knees into a soft bed of spongy loam. He hovered over her in a deadly combination of beast and man. His body pressed against her backside. His chest was hard and heavy against her spine. He fisted her hair with a gruff tug, exposing her neck. Shayla bristled at her vulnerability, digging at the earth beneath her palms with her fingernails. Teeth skated a trail of fire along the soft flesh of her throat, leaving scorching ruin in their wake.

Her body responded to Tracker's initiation of the mating dance. The sounds of feminine moaning cut through the quiet of the night. The sigh of her own voice flowed from her body, coating her skin like spun sugar. Her body arched and bucked beneath him. Instinctively, she dug her teeth into the meaty flesh of his bicep. He rewarded her by dragging a bristled jaw along her cheek, marking her flesh with his scent.

Tracker was harder than he'd ever been. The gentle curve of Shayla's backside rubbed against his erection, teasingly painful. He could take her like this, like an animal rutting in heat. The urge was too strong for him to resist much longer. He roped in his eager wolf and cast him aside. As much as this act was about pleasure and pain, surrender, and lust. There was one thing that separated him from his wolf. Under the musky currents of unbridled desire and the scent of wolf, it was there, flowing in an abundant river cresting its banks. Love. He loved Shayla and he'd take her, make love to her properly, as a man in love should.

Shayla felt the shift in Tracker, like a gust of cool breeze over her skin. Her wolf sensed that Tracker's wolf was no longer in control and retreated to some distant part of Shayla's awareness. She eased back on her haunches and exhaled. Tracker's body wrapped around her like a warm coat as he cradled her against his chest, tenderly smoothing her hair over her shoulder as he inhaled her scent with his nose pressed to the nape of her neck. She trapped his hair in her fingers and brought his face around to meet hers.

"It has been so long for me," Tracker whispered in apology. No woman had touched him since his mistress Eloise had taken him and his twin to her bed for the last time. It was a pleasant, beautiful memory that happened such a long time ago. But, only a memory and not nearly as beautiful as the woman wound in a tangle of limbs in his arms.

"For me too," Shayla admitted. Trackers fingers traced a hot path down her spine to the hem of her t-shirt. Gently, he peeled the thin layer of cotton over her shoulders and tossed it into an abandoned heap on the leaves. She rested her head on the broadness of his chest and closed her eyes. He worked the straps of her bra down her narrow shoulders and worried at the clasp till the bra slid free down her arms.

Tracker's body bucked against Shayla's. Her skin was soft as a midnight whisper. The tiny beads of her nipples blossomed against his palm, straining for more of the abrading skin to skin contact. Her breasts were full and lush, peaked into twin points of desire, trapped in the palms of his hands. Her back arched and she threw her head back as he worked her flesh with his fingers. Eager to find the next pleasure point on her body, but reluctant to leave the wonder of her breasts, his fingers trailed over the gentle plane of her stomach to work loose the button on her jean shorts.

Shayla was surprised by how steady her hands were compared to Tracker's. Deftly, they moved over the thick, coarse denim to the button, freeing her flesh for his hands to explore. Her hands were busy on their own accord. Tracker cradled her back with the powerful muscles of his chest. His lean thighs braced against her hips, tensing as her fingers traced a trail along the hard ridges of his inner thighs, teasing at the hem of his shorts.

She couldn't get good enough access to him from his position behind her. As much as she liked the path his fingers traced over the top of her bikini panties. She wanted more of him. Sliding free of the cocoon of his body, she stretched out on her back. He towered over her, staring down, his eyes drinking her in like a man dying of thirst in the desert heat would guzzle down water. Sticks and rocks poked at her back. But, she paid them no mind as Tracker's palms inched over her thighs. His fingers wrapped around her shorts and panties and dragged them down her hips, over her legs, and off her feet. Painfully, he kissed his way back up, stopping at the center of her, to taste, to explore, and to sample till she thought she would burst.

Tracker growled in approval, not a bestial growl, but a growl of pure male satisfaction as his mouth and tongue worked Shayla into a writhing, bucking frenzy. Her thighs clamped tightly around his shoulders and her heels dug into his back, pressing him on. She clawed and clamored at the back of his head when he paused, delaying her release. The possessive part of himself wouldn't allow him to finish her this easily. He'd worked damn hard to capture her and he wasn't about to give in to her so readily now. He wanted to hear his name gasped in pleasure from her lips before he sent her careening over the edge.

Shayla wrapped her thighs around Tracker's waist and pressed her warm center against the hard bulge in his shorts. With the damnable cloth between them she could get no closer. He punished her with the fabric boundary separating them, rocking against her, the rough cotton teasing at her core. Clumsily and far too eagerly, her fingers dug at the waistband of the shorts, jerking and tearing at the elastic. She wanted him inside of her now!

Tracker's mouth was a branding iron hot against her lips. His tongue teased against hers in a dance of endless patience. His fingers found places, pleasurable places she thought were long dormant he brought them to life, in throbbing, aching pulses of need and urgent want. She wanted nothing more than to topple over the edge and fall careening down the other side of passion. He wouldn't let her go, rather with his mouth and skilful fingers, he kept her balanced close, so painfully close to the dizzying precipice. "Tracker, please," she moaned.

Tracker grinned against the beaded tip of the nipple he suckled with his mouth and tongue so lovingly. Those were exactly the words he needed to hear. Like music to ears that had never heard a note, the words washed over him and carried him away. He wiggled free of his shorts with Shayla's help. Looking down on her, she was a sight of such beauty, her hair spread out in a tangle of leaves, lips full and swollen from his kiss, breaths jagged and panting because of his touch, so perfect. Possessively, he claimed her mouth as he pressed his body against her soft entrance and buried himself to the hilt in her tight, wet, cleft.

Shayla's body bucked and her hips lifted to meet each greedy thrust of Tracker's body. He filled her so deeply it should have been painful. Instead, each slap of flesh against flesh felt good, so very, very good. She clutched at the powerful muscles of his gluteus, guiding him deeper still. Pleasure so intense rushed through her, spilling out from her core, along her limbs in a jolt. Gasping, almost crying from the joy and utter exhilaration of the experience, she came. His name was a shuttered cry from her lips as the wave of ecstasy crashed over her and swept her under.

Tracker scrabbled with the thin strands of his control that were left. Her muscles milked him with the intensity of her orgasm. The pressure building in his groin was painful in such a pleasurable way. Her heat, the silky moisture of her release seared his skin to the boiling point. She writhed and rocked beneath him, lost to her own pleasure. Her tiny nails dug into the muscles of his butt, gripping and jabbing, pushing him on to join her in the shadowy place of heated whispers and heady sensation. His fingers clawed at the ground. He hadn't waited this long and this patiently to end it so soon.

His body crashed into her, answering each rock of her hips with deep thrusts. He was so close. The need to fill her with his seed built until it was almost too much to bear. He did not want this to end. If he were to die right this moment, he was glad it would be buried up to the hilt in the tight embrace of her body. Shayla's sleek channel gripped and tightened around him, muscles spasming out of control as another wave of orgasm surged over her.

He did this. He made her come. Male pride flooded his being to the point of bursting. His body took control, the mind forgotten in a primal rush of urgency. His muscles went rigid with the intensity of utter sensation. Hot jets of his release shot into her narrow opening. Relaxed and happier than he'd ever been, Tracker collapsed into a heap on top of her and sighed. Gently, he eased off of her body and tucked her into the folds of a tight embrace. She was as vital to him as air. His twin might be his other half, maybe the better half. But, she completed him and he was absolutely, irrevocably, hers.

Shayla rested in the safety of Tracker's arms. They wrapped around her like a shield. Nothing could get past them. All the hurt and pain was out there. In here, only they existed, just the two of them. A part of her wanted to feel guilty. She'd worn the armor of her pain in a tribute to Carter's memory. The emotion was as useless as the gesture. There was no energy in her left to spare for him. This was where she belonged. The man, sighing contentedly up at the stars was who she belonged with. She finally had the strength and the courage to let Carter go. So, she did. At long last, she was free.

Chapter 85

Somewhere along the way, cuddling had turned into heavy petting and deep probing kisses. Cole did his best to be careful to avoid the intimate tangle of bodies. But, deep in his heart of hearts, he was still a guy and Maggie, a girl. The chemistry between them was natural and as automatic as breathing.

He fisted the hem of her t-shirt, determined to keep it in place. The cotton and the lace of her bra weren't much of a barrier between them. But, they were better than nothing. He was horny as hell and she with the eagerness of her touch wasn't helping the situation any. The smell of her desire perfumed the air and drove him closer and closer to the edge. His control around her sucked.

If there were rules about kissing, touching, and doing other things with humans, he didn't know about them. The subject had never come up during his one on one tutoring with John Mark. Ignorance of the rules was no excuse. If he broke them, even by accident, his stoic mentor would not hesitate to feed him his ass with a silver spoon.

Maggie's skin felt as if it were on fire. Cole's fingers were light and hesitant, dancing around the places where she wanted them the most. If he doubted his humanity, he shouldn't. His kisses were eager and heated. His hands fisted the hem of her t-shirt as if that would prevent them from wandering. For all his lethality and vampire grace, he was as awkward as any other guy.

She didn't doubt that even if in their awkwardness, his hands were dangerous weapons. He tried to hide from his true nature. Masked who and what he was behind a façade of boyish charm. She saw right through it. Even now, he was careful of her and of his fangs. One slip of the needle sharp points and she'd bleed. They were both very aware of that fact.

She was trying so hard to convince him that he was human and that she wasn't afraid. She knew how precarious the balance between man and monster was for him. One taste of her blood would undo all her hard work. She shouldn't risk it. In the vampire timeline, Cole was just a baby. He still had a long way to go before he became full master over the darker parts of his nature. His hands, having given up their hold on her t-shirt, felt so good on her skin. Slowly, they inched their way up under the shirt, along the curve of her spine and she shuddered. Maybe, it was the hint of danger that was the essence of the attraction between them.

"We should stop," Cole gritted. Maggie was every temptation that had ever teased his senses rolled into one. The scent of desire clung to her skin. He felt the heated rush of her blood beneath the fragile layer of her flesh. Blood and sex. Her heart kicked into high gear the closer he got to her forbidden territory. Right now, he was still safely in no man's land, brushing his fingers along the curve of her waist. His hands and his sex drive wouldn't be content with that neutral territory for very long.

He sucked in a terse breath and broke the kiss. He hadn't stopped to think about it before now. He knew every part of him worked to a degree. He got hard, painfully hard. He'd never taken his cock out for a test drive, not even with his own palm. He didn't know and John Mark hadn't ever told him. Could he even do it if he wanted to? Would he hurt Maggie beyond repair if they tried?

Nora had been human, as fragile and breakable as Maggie. But, she and David...surely they had? Maybe not though. Maybe they were waiting until after she was turned. That would explain her big rush to give up her humanity. Wouldn't it? Vampires had relationships. He knew that. All those happily married couples at the compound had to be getting it on. But, none of them, either male or female, were human. Maybe it was too risky. Cole flung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, clutching his hair in his hands. "Shit."

Maggie slid her shirt back into place and scooted up to lean against the pillows. Cole's body was tense, almost rigid against her fingertips as she smoothed them down his back. She withdrew her hand as he jerked away from her. "Cole, what's wrong?" Didn't he like her? Did she do something wrong?

"God Maggie, the way you look at me," Cole turned away from her eyes. "You make me feel so damned human, sometimes even I forget."

"Cole...,"

"No. I get it. I am human, inside. But, this body, is anything but." Cole's shoulders drooped as he took a breath to admit his fears to Maggie. "I don't know if I can with you. What if I hurt you?"

"Oh." Maggie sat up on the bed and folded her legs beneath her. Cole was terrified of hurting her, a reasonable, although unfounded fear. She wasn't nearly as breakable as he made her out to be. Her eyes traveled to the bulge in his jeans. He could, he definitely could, do the deed, but she understood his worry. He could bench press a city bus. "I...I'm not ready for that." She flinched uncomfortably under his dark stare. Her face turned a heated cherry red, "We got a little carried away a few minutes ago, I think."

Cole smiled at Maggie, relieved to his very core that she was as nervous and although willing, as reluctant as he. She was adorable when she blushed. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and drew her close, brushing his lips over her forehead. "God you smell good."

Maggie swallowed back a gasp of both joy and terror as Cole traced his lips along the curve of her neck, gently suckling the tattoo with his moist, hot lips. Feeding him was in her job description. But, it could turn into something a lot more intimate when accompanied by mutual attraction. Something strange and wonderful, vaguely pleasurable tugged at the special place between her thighs. "Cole, I want you to."

Cole was so close to sinking his fangs into the intricate pattern of the tattoo along her neck he was dizzy with need. He did not want to see his...girlfriend... as food, an object of many a long, lonely nights of sexual frustration, till they finally gave in to what was happening between them, yes, but never as food. The offer of her blood was as tempting to a part of him as her body was to another. "I want to. I really do," he whispered against her throat. His fangs were already grazing along her flesh.

"Cole," Maggie whispered, pressing a hand against his chest. "Don't hurt me. Put me under first."

"I've never done this unsupervised," Cole said hesitantly. He wanted to, badly. Not just because it was food she was offering. He realized what he wanted and what she offered was something more, deeper. She offered a vital part of herself to him. He wanted to drink at the wellspring of her essence, only because it was her.

Maggie shrugged, "You have to cut the apron strings sometime, Cole. I trust you."

"You trust me that much?"

"With all my heart and with my life," Maggie answered. Cole's fingers were light and caressing against the skin of her neck. His words brushed over her flesh like his gentle touch. Everything faded till there was nothing left but the sound of his voice, the feel of his fingertips, and the sweet pressure of his lips on her neck.

Chapter 86

Eric sauntered to the front door. No need for company to knock when he knew they were on the front porch. He could barely suppress the grin on his face as he flung open the front door. "Right on time, I see. Good evening, Hunter and who have we here?" he said with a mocking gasp. "The Great Father, himself. Do come in." He made a wide sweeping gesture with his arm and stepped back to usher his guests inside.

"To what do I owe this illustrious pleasure?" Eric asked, ushering the men though the foyer. Tonight's victory would be sweeter than he could have expected. The Great Father rarely got his hands dirty in the actual business of the Sons. He was more myth than man. That myth alone had been enough to keep most of vampirekind under heel for two centuries. Not after tonight. No, after tonight, vampires would worship him as their deliverer. He would show them a life beyond their wildest expectations.

The Great Father was over confident. A fool. He'd brought his first, Dane, and his second, John Mark, along for the ride. With the three of them out of the way, what was left of the Sons would scurry into the woodwork like cockroaches. Not only was the Great Father sure enough of himself to bring his highest ranking officers into danger, but, a pack master as well. Too bad, Eric thought, he hadn't bargained for better than Hunter. The power radiating off the Master Wolf was so great he could almost taste it on the air. "You'll forgive my humble abode. I so rarely receive guests of such a high stature as yourselves. We live a simple, quiet life here, Carter, Yessette, and I."

Eric led the warriors into the living room and moved to stand behind Daniel. Lovingly, he ran his hands along the contours of the boy's neck. Sleeking over the marks Yessette had made with her fangs. She was always such a sloppy eater, brutal and merciless with her prey. The puncture wounds in the boy's neck were healing, slowly and painfully. Bruises and jagged skin marred the tanned perfection of his flesh. Fury flashed in the eyes of his guests at the boy's appearance. "I assure you, he was quite willing. He has not been permanently harmed. I have kept my end of the bargain. A man should keep his word. Don't you agree, Great Father?"

Drew bristled at what had been done to Daniel. Chained like a dog. Brutalized and nearly drained, his head drooped against his chest, eyes fluttering open and closed as he tried to cling to consciousness. Drew doubted O'Sullivan's claim. This boy had not been willing. "The boy is barely alive."