Dawn's Destiny

He kissed and shyly touched her like a man who cherished every moment of holding her in his arms and the sensation of her lips against his. But, if he could have his pick and the situation were different. Would he choose her then or was this heated make out session more out of convenience than actual lust? And did it really matter? The second he turned his back she was running for the nearest phone and Grant was going to jail. He wouldn't be seeing any women for a very long time. \

Ginger suggested that she get laid on her vacation. And maybe, instead of being the good girl everyone expected her to be. She should do, for once, exactly what she wanted to and be bad. Give Grant a send off he'd never forget. She wanted to. Damn did she want to. The hard press of him against her core did wild things to her. He was so hard. The thick outline of his cock bulged beneath the zipper of his borrowed jeans. And there was no faking the promise in that generous bit of flesh. Grant kissed a trail over her chin and down her neck. Growling in sheer masculine approval as she arched her spine and threw back her head, offering him her throat. His palms settled on her backside. His fingers digging into her flesh, grinding her pelvis against the hard rise of him. "God, Claire, God," he murmured hungrily into the shallow dip between her collarbones.

Grants kisses turned from dizzyingly hungered and urgent to soft, slow, and painfully seductive. He sucked her bottom lip between his front teeth and traced the tip of his tongue over the sleek surface. His hands wandered up from her butt to cradle the back of her head. His fingers played with her hair, slicking through the strands with gentle almost reverent strokes. Claire caught her breath before another wave of kisses and caresses swept her reason and her heart away. There was desperation in his dark eyes. But, it wasn't the kind of despair associated with hopeless criminals or acts of senseless violence. It was the dark, glittering gaze of a man lost to a woman. Embroiled so deep in the wanting of her that there was nothing and nobody in the world except for her. And Claire had never had a man look at her like that before. As if she were the axis on which his entire universe spun.

Her body was on line with the plan. Every female hormone she possessed shouting 'hell yeah' at the idea of Grant. But, her heart was fragile. Breakable. And her heart would have none of it. Claire broke the kiss and eased out of his lap. Settling on the hard, cold, rough surface slightly damp from the night chill made colder by the absence of his warmth. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her body thrummed from his caresses. And her heart stilled out of fear of breaking.

She wasn't so certain that once the pieces of her heart shattered they could be put together again. Grant might be a good man in a bad situation. But, even at that, he wasn't right for her. He represented everything she wanted and could not have. Grant was mysterious. He had dark secrets. She knew nothing about his past beyond the bits and pieces he'd chosen to share. Physically, he was everything a man should be, tall, dark, and handsome. He was an enigma of bruit force and gentle caresses. There was almost an animalistic edge to him, a hardness, an almost cold, removed exterior. But, he had a gentler more human side a softness and gentleness that balanced him out when he chose to let his mask drop and she saw the real him beneath. He was beautiful in his flaws. And one night with him so filled with promises he could make good on would never be enough. Claire didn't want to waste her life being one of those lonely women longing for things that could never be.

Grant rested his lips on Claire's forehead and buried his nose in her hair. Inhaling the scent of her. His wolf, or what little remained, marked her scent. Eventually, he had to leave her. As much as he longed to stay, he had nothing to offer her. He was still in the heart of pack and the brotherhood's territory. Feeding off of bits of their magic. He had one foot in each world and truly belonged in neither. His wolf was too weak and his human side too foreign and unfamiliar. She deserved so much more than second best. But, he truly could give her nothing better.

Her gentle essence was etched into his memory. The feel of the press of her lips against his and the taste of them seared into the deep recesses of his mind. Claire opened her mouth to speak. He silenced her with his finger held to her lips. This was not a moment for words. Grant didn't want to talk about what had just happened. He didn't want to talk at all. He just wanted to hold her. Bask in her warmth underneath a field of stars and remember each and every cherished second of it.

Grant draped an arm over her shoulders and guided her head to his chest. Gently stroking her hair, he watched the glowing embers of the fire grow dim and fade. Claire's fingers toyed with the buttons on his flannel shirt. She shifted position and lifted her chin. Her eyes desperately seeking his for something, he didn't know what. Some sign, he supposed. He tilted his head, bringing their lips together once more for a kiss.

She knew enough of his past to hate him for it. And yet, she sought him out. Saw past the monster he perceived himself to be. She saw beyond his beast and his darkness and deep into the heart of him to the man beneath. Grant had envied humans for their various freedoms. But, he'd never understood the responsibility that came with such liberties until now. Their lives were not just a series of random couplings. There was no such thing as easy loving. There was sex. And there was love. And he was just now beginning to comprehend the difference between the two. What he wanted wasn't what he'd thought it would be. He'd wanted sex, sex, and more sex and now that he could indulge. The only thing he wanted was love. "I'm sorry, Claire."

Claire arched a brow. Grant was so quiet, so pensive. He was hardly the hardened criminal he'd tried so hard to be that first night. He was a man in a bad way. His life had taken him down a path beyond his capabilities to navigate. And even though she was the one being held against her will. He was more terrified of where his life was headed than she could ever be of him. "For what?"

Grant gave Claire's shoulders a gentle squeeze and kissed the top of her head. He didn't know how to answer her question adequately. He was sorry and that summed it up as well as it could. "For everything, Claire. For everything."





Chapter 32

Toby winced beneath the woman's imperious scowl. He had put a lot of thought into his plan and was ready to push the magic buttons that would make her disappear. She was having a little difficulty seeing his vision. Barbara Sterling was about to die officially on record. And yeah, maybe it was a tricky thing to watch someone orchestrate your death with a few simple keystrokes. But, dying was a necessity. And she was reluctant to accept that her life, as she'd known it, was over.

His plan was perfect. Barbara had terminal cancer and was expected to die soon. So, he thought, why not work with what he had at his disposal? Although she would be missed, people wouldn't be shocked by her death. Making people disappear off the grid was a kind of hobby of his. And the more plausible he could make that faked death, the better. People needed closure and the funeral, a simple affair, was for them not for her. The only thing left was to get her on board with his plan. She'd balked at the funeral. Rambled on and on about insurance fraud and how what he was doing was illegal. Of course, it was. That was, if someone ever dug up the empty casket to prove it. She didn't quite get it yet. For now, she had friends, people who cared about her. But, in a few decades everyone she knew would be planted in that cemetery and her memory would cease to exist to the outside world. She, the Barbara Sterling she had been, would not matter anymore.

"I'm not dead," Barbara protested. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the edge of the desk, glowering down at her faked death certificate. Was it really that easy to disappear? Just a few keystrokes and she'd be gone forever. "I can't do that to my friends." She fervently and insistently shook her head in outrage. "I can't. Its not right."

"Barbara, you have to. What are you going to tell them? That you found some miracle cure? That you'll never age. Never die? Think about it. You owe your friends closure," Toby pressed. He dragged his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. To humans, time passed in the blink of an eye. Soon, there'd be no one who remembered her. No one left to mourn her passing. "Which is more cruel? To let the people who love you continue to think you're alive or to give them the closure they need?"

Barbara dabbed at a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Toby was right. People knew she was dying and she couldn't continue to lie to them. Some, like she had been, were hanging on to their lives by a thread. Kindred spirits bound by the awful harsh reality of their disease. She couldn't give them false hopes by lying to them. Make them think that she had found a miracle. Even though she had found her miracle she couldn't share it with them. Doc was right. The price of her cure was high and heavy burden to bear. He'd tried to tell her that and she hadn't understood. Ultimately, although she had cheated physical death, she still had to die. But, what else could she do? Tell her friends the truth? Not hardly. The truth was too far fetched to be believable. "Fine, do it."

Barbara wandered through the compound mindlessly. Thomas would have to attend the funeral. Weep tears that weren't real for a mother that wasn't really dead. Stand and pretend to mourn over an empty grave. Her death, although a necessity, would be nothing, meaningless, a huge lie. But, in truth, everything she had been, the person she had been was dead.

A bitter smirk crossed her lips. The irony of her situation bit deeply. When Thomas, her only reason for existing, died. She couldn't even go to his funeral. Weep real tears over his grave. He had exchanged her soul to keep her close to him for a while longer to keep him company until his inevitable fate came to collect him.

She was just as selfish as he was. She thought she was prepared to die. But, when the offer was made. The 'get out of jail free' card placed into her hand. She'd readily played it. She hadn't wanted to die. Not really. She feared the darkness so eager to snatch her up. Others around her would succumb to time. And she would watch death lead them away. They'd wither and die. But her, she'd remain in the glory of full bloom, for a very, very long time.

Barbara indulged herself for a moment. Wallowing in self-pity. Contemplating the thing she had become. Hungry constantly. Imbued by every sight, sound, and scent endlessly. Her head filled with thoughts, gentle whispers, that weren't her own, but the song of the Sons. Their blood had given her life. And she was damned unsure of what to do with it.

The Shaman heard the whirlwind of thoughts in Barbara's mind. They were dark. Negative. Dangerous. A despondent, directionless, vampire without clear purpose was dangerous. Deadly. He silently fell into step beside her.

Guilt wracked through him. He had done nothing since her creation to ease her transition. Not really. Taught her the basics of survival. But, the divinity of their purpose he'd kept a closely guarded secret. He was a bad, bad, mentor. Treating her as if she were nothing but a burden, a child. Keeping her away when he should be keeping her close.

"Barbara Sterling died today," she whispered shakily.

"I know." He guided her into his arms and pressed her cheek against his chest. Offering her comfort as she cried and mourned the passing of her mortal life. She was still so human. Connected to life and the living. In time, her feelings would cool. And she would become... what? He had been alive for over two centuries. What was he? Cold? Emotionless? Disconnected? What were the words that defined him?

He slicked his hands through her hair. When he held her. He didn't feel emotionless. She stirred strong emotional responses in him. He didn't feel cold but heated by the closeness of her body. She grounded and centered him. Reconnected him with life and what it meant to be human and truly alive. Silently, he vowed to be a better man. Although he was a vampire, in his heart of hearts, buried so deeply that he'd forgotten the simple fact, he was a man too.

Doc held Barbara until she was cried out and the last of her tears fell. "I'm sorry, Barbara."

Barbara sniffled and lifted her head. What was the point in mourning a woman who no longer existed? The past didn't matter. Only the future, a future she'd planned so carefully for. Always doing the right thing. Investing money she could have used elsewhere for a retirement fund she'd never collect. Going without and squirreling money away for a rainy day. She simply hadn't expected such a downpour.

Once she found out that she had cancer, she still hung on to the hope that she'd spend all that money someday. The future she planned for wasn't exactly turning out the way she thought it would. Where it would take her, she couldn't even guess. But, she was in for a long and bumpy ride. The rains bypassed. She was hurled right into the black eye of a storm. "I've always wanted the chance to reinvent myself anyway."

Who would she become? What would she do with this new and wondrous life? Unlike before, when she was human, she had boundless possibilities and an almost limitless lifetime in which to explore them. "Doc, what would you do differently about your life, if you could?"

The Shaman tipped his head and contemplated her question for a moment. What would he do differently? What would he change about his life? He had a deeply spiritual relationship with his goddess. Surrounded by people, family, who loved him. He had plenty to eat. A roof over his head, and a place to call home, what more did he need? Perhaps, companionship of a gentle woman would be nice. But other than that, he was happy. Content. What would he change? "Nothing. Life's path, no matter how long that life, is constantly winding and changing. The adventure is never knowing what lies around each bend and twist in the path. No, I wouldn't change a thing."

"Hmm, that's an interesting outlook." Barbara smiled. Replaying his answer in her mind. He had been a vampire for a very long time She expected that he would have regrets stacked in layers. But, his answer surprised her. Life, no matter how long it was didn't have to be a long series of mistakes, counted and added to year after year. The key to being happy didn't lay with the score on the card.

Life wasn't a final exam there was no passing grade. And sometimes the mistakes and heartbreaks had to be forgotten and forgiven. Her son had done what he thought was right to save her. She wasn't being selfish by not wanting to surrender to death. She was being human. Longing to keep her feet firmly planted on the path. And there was nothing wrong with that desire. As long as she did something useful out of the extra time she'd been given.

She knew just where to start. Her outside needed to reflect her inside. She needed a new look. "You know something. I think I'm going to spend some time with the girls. Get a makeover. After all, a dead woman should look her best." She lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks Doc."

The Shaman shook his head and watched her sashay down the hall. Her step was light. Hopeful. He had nothing to worry about. Barbara was a strong woman. She needed time. Time to gain her confidence and learn to draw on that strength that had seen her through so many bad times. She would be fine. And he would be someone that she could rely on, no matter what.

Thomas carefully folded the morning paper and rested his mug on the black and white print. He knew it was coming but he hadn't expected it so soon. What exactly did one do with an obituary for a woman who wasn't dead? He'd written the damned tribute himself. But seeing it in print sent chills down his spine. He found it very difficult to be sad and overwrought with grief when he'd never been happier. His mother's death would never be a reality, only a convenient fiction. He hated to lie. But sometimes, the lie had to become the truth.

As expected, the calls and casseroles began rolling in. He mastered the part with skill. Pretending to be the grieving son. Thanking each person, regretting their sorrowful stares, and skillfully ushering them to the door. Before noon, the fridge was full and there wasn't a countertop that wasn't overflowing with Tupperware containers. He had to get out of the house or he would have to wade through the sympathy cards. There was only one place he wanted to be. He had to do something useful. Something normal. He dressed in a pair of scrubs and went to work. Searching for a bit of routine in his life, which was anything but.

Parking in the coveted physician's parking lot. He scanned the rows of cars in the employee lot, looking for a yellow mustang. Claire wasn't at work today. The last time they spoke, he'd been short and cross. Practically thrown her out of the house. But given the situation, he'd thought he was protecting her. Looking back, he'd been a shit to Claire. And he really needed to apologize.

Given the intensity of the last few weeks, he'd still taken time to notice her. Something he'd never done before. She was a nurse and he was a doctor. And they were coworkers. But, there was a very nice shape hidden under those baggy scrubs she wore. And she definitely had gotten his attention. Maybe, it was time, now that his mother was healthy again, to let her know. As soon as he'd finished his residency his mother had fallen victim to the worst of her disease and he'd never taken the time to think of himself. Only to work, search for a cure, and care for her. For years that had been his life, but now, he had plenty of time for himself. And he could pursue other, gentler interests.

Thomas shrugged off the mumbles of sympathy from his coworkers and prepared to make his rounds. The ER was blissfully vacant, a rare treat for the nurses gathered round the station. They chatted and tittered, carefully avoiding any talk about death, cancer, or his mother. He appreciated their silent concern and the space they gave him. Walking through the wide hallways he made his way through the clinic spaces and the bank of offices closed so early in the morning and to the elevator.

The inpatient unit where Ginger typically worked was on the second floor. He'd have to be careful in scouting for information about when Claire was coming back to work. Ginger would know. The woman was gossip central. And if it went on in this hospital, hell, in the damn town, Ginger knew about it. How the Sons had every chosen her as a donor was a mystery to him. The woman could not keep her mouth shut about anything. And trusting her with a secret of such magnitude seemed like a very dangerous game of roulette.

Ginger knew the truth about his mom. And as he approached the nurse's station, she was the only one not drowning him in sympathetic condolences. He politely turned down offers for everything from doing his laundry to candlelight dinners and graciously accepted a heaping plate of cookies some well-intended nurse thrust in his hands. Once the nurses had returned to do whatever it was they did in their daily routine of caring for his patients, he approached Ginger.

Ginger leaned on the high countertop of the desk and eyed Thomas suspiciously. He certainly looked better than he had over the last few months. A little pale, probably just a tad anemic, but that wasn't a surprise. Baby vampires had voracious appetites and Thomas had obviously been feeding his mother well. She wasn't surprised when he'd pulled the ace out of his sleeve and petitioned the brothers to save Barbara's life. The only shocker to her was that it had taken him so long to do it.