Dawn's Destiny

"Ok then. No funny stuff. Naked or not, I will catch you." Grant backed toward the shower stall, pinning her with a meaningful look. Reaching behind him, he flipped the water on. Stripping unabashedly naked in front of her, he kicked the clothes to the side. Nudity was second nature to the wolves and it didn't bother him in the least, usually. Not even around Tala had he given it a thought. But, Claire, with the heated rake of her reluctant teal colored eyes over his body. It affected him a lot. And he was quick to give her his back before she saw exactly how badly it had.

He was hard, aching, and damn aroused. The human side of him was kicking in. And while his wolf was a lusty creature, no doubt about that, but his wolf never pushed the issue. His humanity had no such beliefs. Humans lived and breathed for sex. And he was free to love whomever he chose without the consequences of a life long mating bond. For that, he could not wait. But, as long as he held Claire captive, he would not indulge. She might allow it. Maybe even welcome it. But, a part of him would wonder how willing she actually was since she was his prisoner and any reciprocation of his advances might be a ploy to gain her freedom.

Claire looked away, blushing as his dark eyes met her stare. Embarrassed at being caught eyeing him, she turned her attention to her wet hair. He might trust her a little, but not entirely. He'd left her roll-on deodorant and tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a comb, and her hair gel, but no spray products. Nothing she could use against him, unless she wanted to give him pearly whites or a new hairdo. Her hairspray and bottle of perfume sat in the plastic sack, next to the shower within his grasp. He wasn't a complete idiot apparently.

Grant showered quickly. He was becoming more and more human. The hot water eased tired muscles and aching joints. Soothing him. He didn't have much time left to formulate a plan. He scrubbed his hair with her shampoo and rinsed. Lathered his body up with the slick, fragrant soap and washed clean. The scent was soft and feminine, like her. She was trying not to, he knew that, but she was sneaking glances at him in the mirror. Perhaps planning an escape. Perhaps liking what she saw. He hoped for the latter. But, expected his first suspicion. Claire was going to try to make a run for it.

Grant left the shower curtain wide open. He didn't mind if she watched. But, he didn't want her to see the evidence of her effect on him. He shifted his hips. Blocking the raging erection pulsing between his thighs from her view. Claire occupied his thoughts and he couldn't focus on anything else but her. Unpleasant thoughts would not stay planted in his brain long enough for his erection to shrink. Gritting his teeth. He turned the tap. Dousing his body with a frigid spray. Sighing in relief and shivering as his hardened cock softened.

Claire snuck peeks. Didn't want to. But, the sight of him, the tanned skin that covered layers of thick, hardened muscle was hard to resist. He was hard in other places too. Something he didn't want her to see and he'd shifted his hips to try to block her view. His erection stood high and proud, a thick, bulky, length that promised pleasure. Desire rocked through her core when she'd caught a glimpse of his arousal. She thought, even though she quickly managed to squash the fleeting idea, for a brief moment, she might be the cause of his painfully hard state. Not possible and definitely out of the question. He was a criminal and whatever his issues were with the law, she could not sympathize and allow him to drag her down too.

With his back turned she got an excellent view of his posterior. And not that it was any surprise. But, the rearview was just as good as the front view Grant lathered up as if he was oblivious to her stares. But, he moved with purpose. And he was very much aware of her watching him. The fact that he knew should have shamed her into lowering her eyes. But, it didn't. The man had an ass carved out of granite and with every pass of the washcloth over his skin the muscles flexed with breathtaking beauty.

During her college years, she'd been a sucker for the whole tattooed bad boy image. And Grant had an amazing display of sheer artistry inked across his back. Stretching from shoulder to shoulder and across his ribs, down below to end at the curve of his lower spine was the hauntingly beautiful image of a wolf.

The work was exquisite and intricately detailed. Shaded not in the usual indigo of tattoos or the pale colors of ink on skin, but in vibrant hues of browns, intense gold, muted tones of cream and off white, and the softest fawn. The work was almost eerie in its intensity and detail, as if the wolf were a living breathing part of the man. And she could swear the wolf tattoo was watching her with those soul searching, intense golden-brown eyes.

She was supposed to be blow drying her hair. But, she had yet to dry one single strand. The dryer whirred in her grip, blowing hot air over her heated cheeks. She was supposed to be carrying out her escape attempt. And she might have done just that if he hadn't showered with the curtain open and if he hadn't been so damned beautiful to look at. She was the one that was thoroughly distracted. Her female hormones danced an excited jig in her system. Drawing her attention from the bigger matter at hand. Exactly, how was she going to get to the phone? It was a little late to worry about that now. Grant had turned off the taps and was snatching his towel from the hook to dry off. And she'd completely blown her window of opportunity.

Grant huffed and wrapped the fluffy towel around his hips. The towel was soft and smelled like Claire. And of course, she being a single female, preferred pink. The towel was pink. Her makeup kit was pink. Even the plastic handle of her hairbrush and the toothbrush she'd graciously given him to use were pink. The realization amused him. But, he quickly shook it off. Dressing as quickly as he'd showered. Carefully zipping the erection that he couldn't seem to completely manage to contain behind a layer of loose, worn denim jeans. There was underwear in the tote, boxers and briefs. Used boxers and briefs and despite the beggar that he was, he still had some standards. And he was not borrowing someone else's used underwear, clean or not.

The t-shirt bagged on him. As did the flannel shirt. The sleeves were too short and he rolled them up to his elbows to keep his forearms from poking out awkwardly. The colors did not suit him. He much preferred deep greens and browns, colors of the forest, and intense rusts and the earthy tones of desert rock to blues and grays. But, he didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter. He didn't seem to have a whole lot of choices about anything, not anymore.

As a whole and much to his regret, he felt more human. He was beginning to learn to compensate for his weaknesses. His fading wolf senses left him with few options but to do so. Grant could no longer sense the pack. He could no longer hear the soft footsteps of danger approach. He could not catch the musky scent of prey. His vision was dimmer and less clear. Dazzled by colors he hadn't realized existed. Trees in the distance blurred into a fuzzy dark line. He was so limited. He felt the pull of gravity on his body. Joints ground against one another and he felt as if he were weighted down. No longer light and swift on his feet or as strong as he had been. He hid his weaknesses from her. Better for Claire to think he could catch her rather than test his claim. Before, yes he could have, easily. But, now, he wasn't so sure.

Claire almost screamed in frustration. Hurriedly finishing up, she packed her things. Cursing her mental capacity for distraction and her idiocy for not sticking to her plan. Grant leaned casually against the door, his long legs crossed at the ankles, eyeing her with an endless, almost expectant and knowing expression in the depths of his dark eyes. His damp hair was tussled haphazardly, gleaming and shiny black in the garish fluorescents over head. The loose jeans hung low on his narrow hips. He'd rolled up the sleeves of the flannel shirt to reveal muscular forearms and the richness of his tanned skin. And despite it all, his borrowed clothes, his lack of shoes, the knowing devilish glint in his eye, the coy grin on his full lips, and the absolute shitty, shitty circumstance she was in. Damn it, she was still distracted by him. With a huff, she gathered up her bag and draped the wet towels over her shoulder and stomped out ahead of him.

Grant followed Claire's longing glance as she stormed past the shower house on the way to the gravel road. A phone. She'd passed up the perfect opportunity for escape. But why? Was his trust so valuable to her? Was she too afraid to try for it? Did she really believe that he'd hurt her if he caught her before the police came? Was she beginning to soften toward him? Why? "Come on. I'll make you some dinner," he said. Gently taking her elbow, he led her back to the cabin.

Grant blinked as a sudden gust of a cool breeze brushed past. He could have sworn he saw something blaze across his field of vision. But, his eyes were so weak. He couldn't be sure. Perhaps, human nature, all the fears and concerns that surrounded his new frailty were getting the better of him. Or, maybe not and something had darted across the road. His first instinct was to chase after it. But, hell, it wasn't like he had the speed or the agility to actually catch something. He couldn't smell anything in the air but springtime and Claire's shampoo. He didn't sense the lingering tingle of the presence of wolf kin on his skin. Not that it mattered, a wolf, one of his kin could be watching him right now and he'd never know it.

Keene bolted into the woods. That was too close and he'd almost been spotted. He was still doing his damnedest to track the wolf. He might as well search for a needle in a haystack. That wolf was out there somewhere. He was sure of it. And damn it he was going to find it. And when he did whether the beast be in human or wolf form, he was going deliver a hurt the mongrel would not soon forget. Instead, he'd found two humans sneaking out of the ladies shower house. Given the musky scent of desire lingering around the couple like a cloud. They were out thrill seeking. Having a forbidden rendezvous in a public place. Keene snorted at the thought. The campgrounds were deserted. And what was the sport in it if there were no one around to catch them? Whatever.

His problem. He didn't have a clear scent to follow. He thought he caught the earthy scent of the wolf on the other side of the lake. But, the trail was as cold. He crouched low in the bushes. Watching the couple. The human male strongly resembled the cur he was searching for. But, the scent was off. The wolves had scent unique to them, earthy and musky, with a hint of pungent traces of the human skin they wore. There was no telltale aroma of wolf scent in the least radiating off the man and Keene couldn't afford to be wrong. The pummeling he intended to dish out would kill a human. And his nose was never wrong. The male was not a wolf, but a human, solely and completely, unquestionably human.

He should give up the chase. A day of solid and relentless tracking had yielded nothing but cold trail after cold trail. Keene had other duties to tend to and he needed to get to them. Primarily, make amends with his baffled wife. And secondly, apologize to Carter and the Guardians. They had not deserved the harshness of his wrath. Reluctantly, he called off the search and turned to head home. Duty overrode his sense of justice. Someday though, if he and the wolf crossed paths, he'd administer punishment. Until that day, the wolf should consider himself fortunate for the temporary reprieve. Keene never forgot anything.









Chapter 30

Tala lounged in luxury. Spoiled utterly by Drew. He fed her grapes as she soaked in the immense tub. The date was set and they were enjoying, fully enjoying the fleeting moments of privacy they'd managed to steal. Soon, Ka-tet, good fate, would determine their destinies. A part of her was excited. Another was anxious. Worried. Drew's unyielding attention, the affection he lavished upon her, hid his feelings. Or so he thought. He too was worried.

She moaned happily as she suckled on a tart grape. His hands worked magic, massaging her foot tenderly. The steamy, bubbling water soothed her. Eased her stressed mind. Her body floated in the water. And she was absolutely, blissfully relaxed. Bobbing against the hard lengths of his muscle. His hands guided her onto his lap. Naked and erect flesh bumped against the curve of her bottom.

She spun in his arms. Turning to face him. Her legs found their way around his waist. Bringing together the two throbbing bundles of desire. She rubbed her core against him. Not that he needed any coaxing. Navigating her hips to glide her core up and down his erection, she gasped in delight as he slid his cock home. Stretching her. Filling her. Marking her as his. She was weightless in his arms. Pleasure pushed worry from her mind. The water churned turbidly as they loved. Bodies crushed together. Flesh met and souls merged. And it was absolute perfection.

Tala. His Tala. Drew thought as he slammed into her, filling her with his erection. She took everything he had to give with willing exuberance. Her sighs and shudders of pleasure were his reward. He supported her weight in his palms. Reclining her back and suckling a pert nipple. Lapping at the tender peak until it strained to meet his lips. He pumped faster. Wrapping his hands around her shoulders and driving her body hard against his. Gliding in and out. Deep. Shallow. Fast and slow until she shattered apart.

He was closely approaching the moment. But, he held back. By sheer force of his will, he delayed his release for as long as possible. Savoring the slick feeling of her heat milking him. Orgasm snatched him up quickly. Snuck up on him. And he burst into flame as he shot into her. A roar of pleasure escaped his lips as he filled her body with hot jets of release. Possessive thoughts filled his mind. She was his wife. No ceremony or fanfare required. She belonged to him and he, to her. Bound by blood and body. Fused as one, soul to soul.

Tala rested her cheek against Drew's chest. Cuddling as she always did after a very thorough loving. Savoring the tenderness of the moment. She loved this man. Their spirits were bound through blood and through the joining of bodies to the essence of the wolf. She didn't use the word married. Or call him husband. Marriages could shatter apart, fall victim to the pressures and passing of time. What they had was indestructible. Forged from the hardest steel. He was her life. Her heart. Her soul.

She wanted something. Not a ring though, too unpractical. When she shifted, the thing would catch on her claws. He was getting his ceremony. And she wanted something that would let the whole world know she was his and that she would never love another. Something as permanent as the love they shared. "Drew, I want a tattoo."

His eyes snapped open in surprise. "Huh?" Her body was perfect and she wanted to mark it up with ink? She had a tattoo, the mark of her wolf inked onto her back. The work was impressive and took up every inch of available space. Where would she put another tattoo? "Tattoos hurt," he said dismissively.

"I know. But, I want the whole world to know that you and I are one. I want to bear your mark." She shivered as Drew ran his hands along her back, tracing the outline of her wolf with a fingertip. He was planning and contemplating. She expected some resistance to the idea. But, selling him on it was going to be easier than she thought. Pain was nothing compared to the pride she'd feel whenever she looked at the tattoo.

Male pride surged through him as he visualized the swirling patterns of indigo etched into her skin. He was going to have Doc put the exact same marks on him in the exact same place. Someplace everyone would see and there was no way to hide. He ran his fingers over the right side of her neck and across her collarbones. The donors bore a small tattoo behind their right ears marking them as human members of the brotherhood. His queen. She would be mother, Great Mother, to his Sons. And her tattoo should be something splendid.

"Ok." He felt like such a puss giving into her. But, when she batted those big brown eyes at him. He could deny her nothing. Not even if it hurt her.

Tala grinned triumphantly and climbed out of the tub. She quickly dressed under his scrutiny. Drew made her feel as sexy putting her clothes on as she did when she took them off. He was always so gentle with her. Gathering her hair in his big palm and working a comb through the wet strands. He bound her ponytail in a simple leather band and kissed the top of her head.

Drew took Tala's tiny hand in his. Her petite fingers wrapped around his large

uncoordinated fingers. "I could spellbind you so you won't feel a thing," he said. She shook her head in reply. The strands of her wet ponytail slapped across her back. He led her through the beige painted corridors constructed of cinderblock walls. Hard to believe that no so long ago the space was an uninhabitable, filthy maze of twisting tunnels and dead ends.

His brother had insisted that the brotherhood purchase the mine and the acres and acres of surrounding, dense woods. Drew had balked and argued vehemently against it. But, his brother would not back down. When war broke out and the coal the mine produced turned a hefty profit. He'd thought his brother's only intention and only foresight was the income the brothers needed. The mines had been abandoned after World War II ended and the bulk of the coal had been stripped away. By then, the brothers had established a home in the woods and selling the mine was simply not possible without giving away their secret.

The mine was every bit as critical to the Sons survival now as it had been in the early days preceding the war, when his brother had sank every dime they had into the mines. Then, the brotherhood had lived in dark hovels in forgotten corners of the territory and in the dank caverns beneath the bluffs. Times had changed and the mines had become useful again. The compound was plush and lavish. Secure underground. Guarded by the bravest group of men and women in the world. And it was a home for everyone who passed through the threshold.

Drew rapped on the Shaman's door. Answered by an angry and huffed, "Go Away! I'm busy!" He lifted his eyebrows and knocked again, a little more insistently this time. He would not be ignored by one of his Sons.

Cursing and sputtering under his breath the Shaman answered the door. Embarrassed by his harsh treatment of Drew and the gentle, beautiful she-wolf at his side. "I thought you were someone else," he stammered. Stepping aside to let them in, he mumbled a quick, "Sorry."

"Troubles?" Drew asked curiously. Intrigued by the emotional outburst of his Shaman, who was usually so cool and emotionally uninvolved from all the goings on around him. The Shaman's appearance was disheveled, hair and clothes unkempt, which wasn't all that unusual. But, his mental state was a buzz of agitated hornets and not his usual calm and almost otherworldly demeanor.

"No, of course not," Doc stuttered. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Drew's inquisitive stare. He'd been burning sage, lemon grass, and lavender all day, trying to rid himself of his annoying and unwelcome state of agitation. He was not himself. And Drew had guessed it. He kept replaying his last confrontation with Barbara over and over again in his head. And he always came to the same conclusion. The woman was trouble. The woman was unreasonable and stubborn. And he was absolutely not interested in her in the least. She'd fired him and he'd said good riddance to her. Let her be someone else's problem and not his. "I thought you were that insufferable woman come back to torture me some more," he confessed.