Dawn's Destiny

Grant had gratefully accepted the small offering from her. And like he seemed to do everything else, he'd meticulously brushed and flossed his teeth with almost military precision. "There's a shower house down the road, if you'd like." She added a wistful sigh and wrinkled her nose to get her point across. "I know I would."

Grant almost snickered at Claire's obviousness. From the doorway of the cabin, he could see the shower house across the lake and the power and phone lines that ran from the poles to the roof. He hadn't seen anyone out. The cabins across the lake were deserted and empty. Camping season had yet to officially start. Probably after Memorial Day, this quiet place was hopping with people desperate for an urban escape to nature. God forbid they actually rough it and go without. There might be maintenance crews sprucing up the place though. Someone he hadn't seen, lurking around. "You'd try to run off. Besides, someone might see us."

Grant pulled out a pair of jeans and held them up to his waist. The faded Levis had seen better days. They'd be a little baggy and a little too short. But, definitely better than the mint green sweatpants he currently wore. He found a t-shirt, faded and a bit worn from countless washings. And upon digging deeper into the tote, he snagged onto a pair of grayed tube socks and an old flannel shirt. The spring nights were still a little cool and the soft plaid flannel shirt would be a comfort. Lifting them to his nose and inhaling, he caught the scents of campfires, woods, and the lingering smell of fabric softener.

His last bath had been in a freezing cold lake. And he hadn't exactly been concerned about his grooming at that point. A hot shower would be nice. And Claire obviously wasn't used to going without one for days on end. Neither was he for that matter. The lake water had left an itchy coating of muck on his skin and in his hair. His calves and toes were splattered with dried mud. And while he'd done his best to clean up in the sink, there were parts he simply couldn't or wouldn't wash in such close proximity to her.

She was likewise reluctant to bathe in front of him. And while he would appreciate the show, he didn't blame her one bit. Most humans did not go around parading their nakedness. They were self-conscious and shy about their bodies for the most part. Clothing made them who they were. And the simplicity of Claire's, the soft cottons and comfortable fabrics spoke volumes about her. Maybe, the process that was transforming him from wolf to plain, ordinary human had already taken root. He'd never been hesitant or shy about his body before. But, somehow, the thought of her eyes on him had him feeling strangely self-conscious.

There were likely dividing walls between the shower stalls and shower curtains to pull closed to block the view. It would allow for at least an illusion of privacy. For now, they both smelled tolerable. But, in a few days, they'd be pretty ripe. And the part of him that was still wolf, didn't mind the smell of her at all. Though his wolf didn't necessarily like the perfume she'd sprayed or the floral deodorant she'd used. But, underneath the artificialness of the scents was the heady, sweet, soft essence of her natural aroma. She smelled like summertime, marshmallows roasting golden brown over a campfire, and the sweetness of wild roses. He draped the clothes over his arm and stared down at Claire. She looked up at him with eager anticipation. She was going to try something. He saw the glint of intent in her eyes. Surely, whatever she planned, he was fast enough to prevent it long enough for the two of them to bathe.

"Camping season doesn't start for another month or so," Claire explained. "The campgrounds are open. But, nobody comes out here this early in the year, especially on a weeknight. We've pretty much got the place to ourselves. And, like you said, I've got no place to run to. Help is miles and miles away. You have my keys and my cell phone is locked up in car. I'm totally at your mercy." Claire kept her eyes fixed on the floor as she spoke. Another wave of hopelessness wracked through her system and brought stinging tears to her eyes.

"I promise you. Claire, I will not hurt you." Grant's voice was desperate. Pleading with her to understand. He was not a criminal. He was not a bad man. Not really. The situation he found himself in was bad. But, he himself liked to think he still had some honor left.

"I know. You're only here to think."

"That's right."

"Then let me go. I won't tell anybody that you're out here. I'll leave the food, any money that I have, and I'll go quietly. Nobody will ever know." Her voice matched his in its desperation. She was begging and she hated it. She tried to sound convincing. The minute he turned his back. The very second she was free. She was calling Mack Brown, the local sheriff, and Grant would be behind bars.

Kidnapping was a felony. He'd be locked up for years. He'd probably end up in a federal lockup dodging amorous advances from toothless thugs named Bubba. The part of her that demanded justice cheered at the idea of him in a cell. But, the softer part, the part that cared for people for no other reason that they were people, balked at the thought. He was in a bad situation. She got that much even though he hadn't exactly explained what the situation was. She knew it was bad. And maybe, he was being honest with her when he said he was here to think.

"I wish I could, Claire. Soon enough you'll be rid of me. I promise."

Claire huffed and crossed her arms. "Not soon enough."

"Sorry. Now about that shower house?" Grant thought that maybe if he let her shower, he could gain her cooperation, tit for tat so to speak. Perhaps, if he showered and looked more presentable, wearing something besides her stolen sweats and t-shirt, she'd think a little differently of him. Look upon him as a human being, a man, instead of a source of menace and a degenerate, desperate thug.

Claire bit her lip. A hot shower was a tempting offer to pass up. But, she'd be naked and vulnerable. Not that she considered herself an object of desire, far from it, actually. Her boobs were too small, hips too round, her stomach too soft and jiggley. But, naked in front of a stranger, a man who was obviously desperate, whether he was good in his innermost core or not, didn't matter. He was in a bad situation and situations often forced good people to do bad things. "Ah..."

Grant snickered at her hesitancy. "I won't watch you if you don't watch me."

"I wouldn't dare," Claire huffed indignantly. "I'm a nurse. Do you realize how many naked men I've seen? Trust me, you're more than safe."

"And I'm not a pervert," Grant retorted. "I'm not in the habit of forcing myself on a woman against her will."

"Well then?" Claire was on her feet, gathering up soap and shampoo, towels and washrags. She was going to take the longest shower of her entire life. Painstakingly, she pawed through her toiletries, stashing a razor and shave gel, lotion, and her hairbrush and blow dryer into her bag. She fingered the nail file and squashed the thought. It technically was a weapon. But, she doubted, no matter how bad things got, she'd have the courage to turn it on him. She just didn't have it in her to hurt someone. At least, not at this point she didn't. She dug through the clothes she'd packed and selected a pair of jogging pants, clean undies, a bra, socks, and her favorite long sleeved t-shirt. "Let's go."

Grant snatched the bag stuffed with bottles of shampoo and soap out of Claire's hand. He snaked his fingers through her belt loop and followed closely at her side. "Don't even think about making a run for it. I may be in a bad predicament. But, trust me, you can't outrun me." The cloying, overly sweet and perfumed scent of soaps and lotions wafted out of the bag, stung his sensitive nose. "I don't suppose you have any man soap in here do you?"

"Sorry," Claire answered dryly. "I wasn't expecting to get kidnapped."

The spring evening was chilly. The slow, rhythmic chant of cricket song was the only noise, cutting through the biting silence. Claire led him down the uneven gravel road. The walk did her good. And the brisk air served to clear her head. Three miles was a damn long way to walk to take a shower. But, he was smart enough not to trust her while he showered and leave the car keys anywhere within her reach. Passing the darkened windows of cabin after cabin, abandoned till later on in the season, she pouted. Why couldn't he have chosen one of them instead of hers? Why her? Something rattled the bushes at the side of the road and she jumped in surprise and a very girly 'eek' escaped her lips.

Grant chuckled. And his shoulders shook as laughter pushed away the thick shroud of his worry. Claire jumped and scooted closer to him. Startled by the rustling of the bushes and the appearance of two beady eyes looking out at her. Nice to know she preferred his company to that of a raccoon. The masked bugger scampered off into the dimness of the woods. And Claire immediately inched away from him. City girl. "Just a raccoon."

"Oh." Claire squared her shoulders, embarrassed by her sudden attack of femininity. Her back was pressed against Grant's chest. As if he would protect her. As if she needed it. Ok, so yeah, she did need protecting. But, he was the one she needed protecting from. And there wasn't another soul for miles. She quickened her pace and rounded the corner, leading to the squat cinder block shower house. "The men's room is over there," she said pointing her finger.

"Claire, really?" Did she honestly think he was going to let her out of his sight?

"Fine," she grumbled. Plan A was a complete failure. As she knew it would be. He'd never let her out of his sight. And he was absolutely right not to. She would have bolted for the phone, dialed 911, and kept on running. Instinctively, she led them into the ladies room instead of the men's room. The automatic motion sensors kicked in and the lights flickered on. The shower room painted in a fresh coat of its usual tacky shade of pepto-pink.

The maintenance crews had been here recently. And that gave her a small measure of hope. There was no one here but the two of them now. But, the crews routinely made rounds through the campgrounds filling in potholes and sprucing up the place for summer. The phone between the two shower rooms was most likely in working order. All she had to do was get to it. And she would. She'd wait until after her shower. And she was taking hers first. He owed her that much for holding her prisoner. She'd never flaunted her body before. But, she needed the diversion. What living, breathing male wouldn't sneak a peek at a naked woman?

A plan was forming. He'd be a little distracted by her as she bathed and took her time applying lotion to her bare skin. And then, he'd be busy showering. Naked and soaped up, he'd be a little hesitant to chase after her. She hoped. And that few second's worth of delay might give her the time she needed to make a run for the phone. All she had to do was dial 911, drop the receiver, and run like hell. Mack would come to check it out. And then Grant would be on his way to jail.

Claire didn't pause to glance at her reflection. She knew how awful she must look. At this point though, the uglier the better. She should skip the shower all together. Maybe if she stunk to high heaven, he'd leave her alone. But, she was already miserable, why would she want to make her situation any worse than it was?

Claire took her time arranging the bottles across the concrete ledge of the shower stall. Delaying the moment when her clothes had to come off. Finally, when the shower room was filled with billowing clouds of steam she gathered her courage and in her sweetest most seductive voice she coyly asked, "Please, turn around. I don't want you to see me naked." She placed particular emphasis on the word naked. Drawing his attention to the fact that her clothes were coming off.

Once his back was satisfactorily to her. Although, she was painfully aware of the flick of his heated stare, catching her reflection in the mirrors above the bank of sinks directly across from the shower stalls. She shimmied out of her jeans and t-shirt as he watched with keen interest. Not a pervert, her right foot, of course he was a pervert. At least though, he did have the courtesy of glancing away when she caught him watching her. Claire chastised herself for her shyness. She was supposed to be distracting him. Throwing him off balance with the shedding of her clothes. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't get completely naked in front of a stranger. She'd have to find some other way of distracting him. Dodging behind the shower curtain, she stripped her bra and underwear off and toed them out of the way of the hot shower spray.

Grant's jaw was set. Teeth ground in determination. He hadn't expected to have so much difficulty keeping his feet planted and his eyes to himself. Claire was the opposite of Tala, a pale rose to Tala's dark, exotic beauty. But, his groin stiffened in response to the wayward, somewhat wicked thoughts randomly rattling through his mind.

He hadn't expected to want any woman the way he wanted Tala. He'd spent the last ten years patiently lusting after her, interested only in her and blind to all other women. He'd focused all of his energy and hopes on her. Waiting for her to notice him. But, she never had seen him as anything other than a friend. Until they'd become bitter adversaries, and then she'd looked at him with hate and rage in her eyes.

He thought becoming pack master would prove his intentions and his worth to her. Make her want him. Instead, he'd lost the contest and any chance at her heart forever. He didn't mean to hurt her as badly as he had. He would have never forced her to love him. She had never and would never love him. Or want him with the same intensity in which he wanted her. Looking back, he realized how much his self-centered plan had cost him. He'd lost everything. Regret slammed through his chest. Followed closely by guilt for the things he'd done.

Against her will, Claire relaxed. Letting the steaming water and fragrant bubbles calm her frayed nerves. She felt a little better. She closed her eyes and ducked her head under the hot spray. Washing and conditioning her hair, she took her time shaving her legs and underarms. Dilly-dallying for as long as possible beneath the water to delay the inevitable and facing Grant again. She tried to imagine him as a ruthless captor. But, he hadn't barged into the shower. He made no demands that she hurry up. Sure, he peeked. And for some reason the thought of it had butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She didn't want to think of him like that. She needed him to be harsh and cruel. She needed her fear to kick in the adrenaline rush she'd need to make a run for it.

She'd wasted so much time on Thomas. Doctor Thomas Sterling. Hoping he'd notice her. But, he never did. He barked out and scribbled down his orders and she followed them. Patiently, lusting after him from a far. Knowing for a fact that underneath that thin layer of ceil blue scrubs, he didn't wear any underwear. There weren't any telltale lines and never any hint of a BVD waistband. All the nurses gossiped about it, giggling like a bunch of teenagers in hushed whispers about his lack of underwear. Not that it mattered. He was gay, disappointingly and heart wrenchingly gay. At least now, she could stop taking his rejection so personally. It wasn't her that he found particularly repulsive. It was all women. She just didn't have the right equipment to hold his interest.

Rinsing her hair she could pretend that Grant was an ordinary guy. Not some desperate thug. That he wanted her and felt the same sizzle of attraction for her as she did for him. Unfortunately, her hormones couldn't tell the difference between the good guys and the bad ones. Her nipples hardened at the thought of him stripping and showering. Using her soap over the hard planes of his muscular body. Her hormones wouldn't care in the least if he smelled like 'midnight blooming orchids' or not. He'd still be every bit a male. He was a dark and dangerous male that should scare her shitless. Instead, she secretly and much to her chagrin, lusted after him.

Stupid sex drive. She dismissed the rampant thoughts and her body's fluttery response to them. Too much time had passed since she'd had her physical needs properly tended to. And the last time she had, it hadn't been all that. The guy was nice enough, a radiology student doing an internship for the summer, just a brief, temporary fling. They ate lunch together at the hospital, went to a movie, danced a couple of dances, and had a few rounds between the sheets. Nothing spectacular and the weak spark of interest between them had quickly burned out.

Almost a year had passed since she'd had a lover. And while her vibrator took the edge off the worst of her loneliness, it wasn't the same as a warm body in her bed. Great, not only was she kidnapped but also depressed, and yeah, a little horny. Reluctantly, Claire turned off the water and snatched her towel from the shower curtain rod. She could use her body to lure him in. Gain his trust. Have a night of passion. And then, once he was lulled to sleep after thoroughly exhausting himself romping on her playground. She could sneak away and call the cops.

She almost snickered aloud at the thought. Slut, she chided her self. She couldn't do that. Give away her body for personal gain, even if the gain was her freedom. Although, a night of passion, even with a homicidal maniac, might be as good as she was going to get around here. Hmm, homicidal maniac or pick up driving redneck, such great options to choose from. Not. She would wait eventually she'd find the right one. Clamping down on her thoughts she wrapped the towel tightly around her chest and slid out from behind the curtain.

"Your turn." Claire skittered past Grant and locked herself in a bathroom stall to change. She tried not to think about the expression on his face. Tried not to notice the bulge jutting out beneath his sweats. She peeked at him through the crack of in the stall. There was something more to him than the desperate man he depicted. A genuine sorrow that reflected in his eyes. Something bad had happened to him, something that perhaps, she could not begin to fathom and might not really want to know about. She found her heart softening. Slightly. Not enough to forego taking advantage of any escape attempt that might present itself. But, enough that she was curious about him.

Grant waited for Claire to finish her business and dress. He snickered at her clothing. She wore a pair of gray, plaid flannel pajama bottoms and thick, soft t-shirt, boasting the slogan 'cute enough to stop your heart, skilled enough to restart it' across her chest. Wasn't that the truth? Maybe, if the situation had been different and she didn't see him as a fiend, he might be more than tempted. But, things were what they were. And he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.

"Can I trust you Claire?" He followed her timid steps to the row of sinks. She riffled through the grooming supplies that he had lined up across the stainless steel ledge and picked up a comb.

"Yes." Claire unwrapped the towel she'd twisted around her head and pretended to be preoccupied with the task of combing through the damp strands. She had her blow dryer and styling mousse. Filling her palm with clear hair gel she smeared it through her wet hair. As if she were solely intent on grooming and not making a run for it. The blow dryer was one of those travel-sized models. And the high-pitched whine it made would cover up her footsteps when she ran for it. He'd taken her shoes again. But, she'd expected that. And he had left her with a pair of thick socks so that she wouldn't have to go barefoot on the cold concrete floor. It'd have to do.