Dawn's Destiny

Keene put too much pride in his size. God gifted him with that much as He had cursed Carter with his fair face. Hard work had honed the bulk of Keene's muscles before he was turned. He trained furiously. But, he rarely had to call on his fighting skills. His body was threat enough to keep most truly dangerous vampires in line. Sparring with the brothers and the Guardians didn't necessarily count. Carter used intimidation in much the same way. Money and beauty were just as intimidating as sheer physical size.

Keene underestimated exactly what Carter was capable of. Carter stood a tall six-foot four inches tall and the last time he'd bothered to step on a scale out of curiosity he'd weighed about one hundred kilograms. And as a human, he'd been no stranger to a hard day's labor. He wasn't bulky like Keene. But, he didn't need to be. Keene was taller almost six-foot eight and probably had at least another fifty kilograms on him. His size made him slightly slower and not nearly as nimble. And his pride was a far greater detriment than his muscular bulk.

Carter had been a killer long before Keene's forefathers paddled across the Atlantic. He was tamed. But, he was still every bit as lethal when the situation called for it. Cracking his neck, he smiled a truly dazzling smile at Keene. Egging Keene on, he flexed his shoulders and made a rude gesture that needed no interpretation. It was time to show Keene what a Guardian could do.

Keene cocked his right brow. Carter looked too pretty to do any real damage. But, then again, looks were deceiving. Carter and he were at an impasse. They agreed that the Guardians weren't ready. But, they held separate opinions on whether the Guardians were prepared to return to the city or not. Ultimately, it was Carter's decision. Keene had simply tried to sway him into staying a while longer. He did not want to be the one to send these good men and women to their deaths so unprepared. But, was anyone ever truly prepared for death? Losses in a fight as old and longstanding as the one between the rogues and the Sons were to be expected. Carter had already accepted that fact. And perhaps, it was simply Keene's hesitancy, having died as a youth on a cold battlefield poorly trained and completely unprepared and the hell that had happened afterwards, that had him delaying the Guardians' departure as long as possible.

Keene snickered as Carter flew him the bird. He really didn't want to bash in Carter's pretty face. But, the male pride in him could not let the insult go unanswered. Cajoles and catcalls sounded from the Guardians and the Sons that had been lured in by the promise of a good fight. Keene understood what Carter was doing. He was pumping up the Guardians. Proving they were able to hold their own against anybody. And sure, the tactic was good for morale. But, Keene wasn't going to take an ass whipping just to boost the Guardians' spirits. His brothers would never let him live it down if he did. Carter and he wouldn't kill one another. But, they were sure as hell going to have a good time trying. Call him suspicious, maybe even paranoid. But, anyone who wasn't a Son was a potential enemy. And it never hurt to know exactly what the other guy was capable of. Stretching the kinks out of his spine, Keene raised his fists and answered the challenge.

Chapter 5

Drew settled into the wingback chair across from Nash. The rich maroon upholstery groaned as he adjusted his weight into a more comfortable position. He could not 'do' casual. And neither could Nash. Leader sat facing leader, alpha face to face with alpha. Power rippled from man to man. Wolf to wolf, they sized one another up.

The study was luxurious yet, comfortable and welcoming, as Anna and Chris had intended. A fire blazed in the natural stone fireplace dominating the wall chasing away the afternoon's gloomy chill. Leather bound books, some of the spines cracked with age filled every shelf of the twin bookcases on either side of the wide windows. Restrained energy sizzled in the air. And the smell of wolf musk and pungent wood smoke filled the room. The walls had been painted in a masculine soothing shade of woodsy green. And the thick rug under his feet was patterned in the colors of the forest floor. A desk made of heavy oak, rustic but functional in design, filled the space behind him. A litter of paperwork covered every available inch of the desk's wide top.

Wolves did not necessarily adhere to the necessity of avoiding photographs. Snapshots and pictures of people Drew did not know. But, yet seemed familiar to him through their resemblance to his brother, hung on the walls in frames and stretched from end to end on the oak mantle above the fireplace. Family was what it was all about. The reason he was sitting here trying desperately to think of something brilliant to say.

Nash was one for silence. And he regarded him with deep brown eyes far too similar to his brother's and to his own. Everything with this man was a test, a test of patience, a test of wit, and a test of power. Nash did not speak and gave Drew full command of the floor. The fire popped cheerily and a spark drifted downward into the flames. And the quiet between the two of them stretched on.

Nash had been an accommodating host. Welcoming him in and escorting him into the study away from the pack and straight to the wing back chair. Nash was very amicable in his gestures and hospitality. But, even his friendliness was a test. His offering of fine scotch whiskey was another test. Drew had been a vampire long enough to fool the most discerning eye into believing a meal had been eaten and a glass emptied. It was just a trick, a slight of hand. He'd accepted the double shot with no intention of actually drinking it. Nash knew vampires did not eat and drink human consumables. And he'd made the offer, not out of goodwill, but to see how far Drew would take it. To evaluate to his full satisfaction exactly where it was the two of them stood. The man was testing him to see if he'd come to terms with the other side of his true nature or not. And Nash was not one so easily fooled by the slight of hand.

Drew swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the firelight glint off the crystal in prisms of rainbow color. Nash had no such reservations and swallowed his drink down in one gulp. His eyes never left Drew or the glass he held in his hand for one second. Drew resented the power play and raised his glass to his lips. The harshly sweet smell of the sour mash turned his stomach. But, he could not afford one moment's of weakness in the presence of the power alpha challenging him. One sip and he'd know for certain whether Tala had told him the truth or not. Ingesting anything but blood would make even the eldest of vampires desperately sick. It wouldn't kill him. But, the effects would be close enough to make him wish for death.

Coolly, as if he'd been raised on the stuff, Drew tipped back the glass and poured the contents into his mouth swallowing them. The whiskey took away his breath and constricted his throat. He swallowed back his startled gasp of air and set the empty glass on the table between the two chairs with a solid smack of fine crystal against oak. His body shuddered in protest. His stomach burned with the heat of the whiskey. He grinned inwardly in triumph as Nash sat back in his chair and flicked his brown eyes to the floor. He also shivered at the realization that he'd done something no other vampire, with the exception of his brother, had ever done before. And the first thing to pass his lips in almost two hundred years had been the burning fire of whiskey.

Drew felt the surge of his wolf's true power rippling through his mind. Nash reacted, the hairs on his arms standing at attention and the fire dancing in his eyes as if he'd felt it too. They could test one another all night. Every night. After all, Drew did have eternity. Instead, he reeled in his wolf's power and turned his attention to Nash. They could posture. Puff their chests. But, that wasn't what he'd come here to do. And he had the suspicion that Nash saw no further purpose in it than he did.

Drew rather liked Nash. There were few who fluently spoke the ancient language. Nash did. And after so many years of no one to talk to in the tongue of their people except for his brother, the Shaman, and a few mispronounced and butchered sentences from the brothers. It was nice to have someone different to talk to. "You must forgive me, my friend. I've been neglectful of my duties." The words flowed from the tip of his tongue like cool water over smooth rock. His wolf calmed with the lyrical sound of his voice speaking in the ancient tongue. And Drew knew then, he was exactly where he belonged. Doing exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing. He sat by the fire with a brother warrior, his kin, watching the flames dance and the embers burn as he'd always dreamed. He was at long last home.

Nash nodded in recognition of both the language and the man. There were so few fluent in the ancient tongue time forgot. The Great White Wolf was sitting beside him, so calm and so smooth in both mannerisms and speech. Triumphantly eying the empty glass sitting on the table, the man knew he'd passed the test. Oh, there was still plenty of vampire in the man. And Nash had seen Drew's reluctance to try a sip of the fine whiskey he'd poured from the crystal decanter. He'd probably taken him up on his hospitality in hopes of fooling Nash into thinking he'd actually drank the contents. Nash was too smart for that. There were precious few vampires who knew about their world. But, Nash knew plenty about theirs.

There was plenty of the Prophet in Drew as well. Like most siblings, Drew probably didn't and wouldn't admit exactly how much like his brother he was. The two men might as well have been twins. No, they didn't look alike. But, they strongly resembled each other. And Drew did not have the Prophet's ethereal aura surrounding him. No, this was not a man with one foot in vision and one in reality. Drew was grounded, stoic, and living fully in the here and now. The similarities were more in the tone of voice, the manner in which they spoke and held their posture, and the casual way they wore their power. Glimmering and rippling in waves just beneath the surface, Drew's energy was purer and stronger than the Prophet's. Caressing Nash's skin with gentle strokes, not challenging, but adding to it. Undoubtedly, it would be a while before Drew came into his own. And there was much about the newness of his changed life that the man had yet to accept. But, there was hope for this man and for the pack as well, and maybe just a shard or two for Tala, his daughter.

He didn't need to rely on his wolf's instincts only a father's knowing to realize this man seated next to him was the cause for his daughter's angst. Drew was the man her wolf and heart recognized as soul mate. Nash rarely made decisions that impacted his daughter's personal life. Tactically, a mating between the Great White Wolf and Tala was the best any father could hope for. But, there was a complication. Grant's wolf and his heart had already claimed Tala as his soul mate.

The man had been in love with her for decades. And he'd been very patient in waiting for her to come around and look upon him as he looked upon her. Wasn't going to happen. And that made Grant a potentially dangerous man, to the pack, to Tala, and to himself. There was nothing more unpredictable than a spurned wolf with a broken heart. Nash was sitting on a powder keg about to detonate. And he did not relish the thought of killing anyone. Not even Grant. Nash wanted his daughter's happiness though. And although he was not a powerful prophet, he could see it, sitting in the chair beside him.

Right now, there was no decision to be made. Destiny had already made it for Drew and Tala. And there was little short of locking her in her room for the rest of her long life that he could do to change it. He'd watch and he'd wait in the way of the wolf and see how things played out. Destiny was a bitch to override. But, destiny didn't account for freewill and the stubbornness of his daughter.

Nash ran his fingers down the length of his silver-black braid in contemplation. He wasn't getting any younger. And while Grant had his designs on leadership of the pack, Nash had a few ideas of his own on who would take over in his stead. All he had to do was keep this current generation coming into power from mucking up the works. He was not an old man and he wasn't quite ready for the grave yet. But, when he was finally ready to cross the Great River he'd do it knowing the one responsible for sending him there was the right one to lead the pack. Luckily for him he had plenty of decades left to prepare her to take her rightful place.

Nash contemplated Drew. The man was still too human and still too much a vampire for his tastes. And there was little use to share his visions for the future with a man who was only beginning to understand the dynamics of the position he'd inherited. Was Drew strong enough to lead? Yes. But, was he ready to become the leader this pack needed? Not quite yet. The man had plenty to learn. And the way Drew covertly flared his nostrils, searching the scents of the house for Tala's essence and casually flicked glances over his shoulder at the open door. Confirmed Nash's suspicions that the man had other things on his mind than the pack at the moment. And that was good. There was nothing like a little feminine persuasion to get a man's head out of his ass and on the right track.

Wrinkles formed in the corner of Nash's eyes as he smiled at the thought of the many, many knots his Tala would twist the man into. Poor wolf, he just didn't know exactly what he was in for. Casually, he waved off Drew's apology. "We don't feel neglected. We too have been busy settling into our new home. The weather has been a bit of an adjustment for our wolves. While it rains in the desert, it seems our wolves do not particularly like the wetter climate."

Drew bit back a chuckle. Midwestern weather, how well he understood their complaints. Made things interesting when a day could go from a pleasant sunny seventy degrees to blustery and cold in a matter of hours and a sudden rainstorm could pop up in a moment's notice. "Please join us in a celebration. We'll dance around the fire in honor of our goddess and of our new friendship. We'll hunt by moonlight and share the bounty of the feast."

"Did I hear the word feast?" The young girl's musical voice filled the study with the force of her aura behind it. Drew turned his head to watch as she walked across the carpet. Her physical mannerisms so much like Nash's in that long, graceful, stride of a powerful predator. She was tiny and so skinny with knobby knees and elbows jutting out like wings. The top of her head probably wouldn't even come to the middle of Drew's chest. Her limbs long and gangly caught in that awkward state between child and teenager.

Even with the long black braids dancing across her shoulders with each step and the boyishness of her figure, it wasn't hard to see the beauty she'd someday soon grow up to become. Or the leader she might one day be. Power leaked from her aura, bathing Drew in the purity of its essence. And though he knew of exactly how pack hierarchy was established. And that someday she might challenge Nash in a fight to the death for his title. Nash didn't seem to mind the idea of it. Wolves were touchy feely people and Nash gathered her up in his arms for a tight, fatherly hug. He gave no indication that he was knowingly hugging his possible future killer. In fact, the gleam of hope in his eye gave Drew the impression that Nash had already fully accepted his fate.

Nash had been in a number of battles. Light scars and some thicker dense ones tracked down his right cheek and lower under the collar of his shirt. His forearms, visible under the rolled up sleeves of a flannel shirt, were crisscrossed with similar healed marks of bitter fights and perhaps, even bitterer victories. His brown eyes were shrewd. But, they softened considerably as he playfully tugged on the girl's long braids. The man loved his family. And he loved this little girl enough to someday die for her to ensure the legacy of his pack. "This is my granddaughter, Marianne, or Mouse as we call her," Nash said introducing his granddaughter to him

"Who are you?" Marianne piqued curiously. She pulled out of her grandfather's arms and awkwardly tucked her hands into the pockets of her cutoff shorts. The house was unsettled and she'd picked up on the vibe and the scent of a familiar stranger coming from the study. She was too young to defend the pack in any way. Her wolf, much like her period, would happen when it happened. She was almost twelve and the journey to womanhood seemed like forever. Her grandfather would have automatically shooed any of the other kids out of the study with nothing more than a hard look and a wave of his hand. Not her though. She was his favorite. And he'd taken her under his wing to teach her the ways of a pack master. She refused to think about what that would someday mean. She would never ever kill her grandfather. She loved him too much.

Drew had not had much experience around children in the last two hundred years or so. Even as a father, his duties to the tribe had kept him more removed from his family than he ever should have allowed. He grinned at Mouse's childlike innocuous curiosity and her directness so much like her grandfather's. And even more like his brother's. There was truth in the saying 'the nut doesn't fall far from the tree'. And in this little acorn staring at him unabashedly and unapologetically. It was far too apparent.

"My name is Drew. I am...," Drew left off, searching for the right words. He didn't know how to explain his relation to the girl. He was what? A vampire? A wolf? The Great Father? The Great White Wolf? All the above?

"You can speak the truth. We hold no secrets from our children. They know who they are and what they will become," Nash said with no small tinge of pride in his voice. Children were their future. They were cherished and cared for like the precious gems they truly were. They did not interact much with the outside world. It was far too dangerous a place. Humans would know the children were different. Wolf children were stronger, faster, more aggressive and highly cunning than human children of the same age. And as such, the teachers of the pack held the children to a much higher standard than that of human children.

Drew raised a brow at the difference in their cultures. The children of human donors were generally kept in the dark about the truth of the world until such a time the parents saw fit to tell them. It was a dangerous practice. Robbie and Alex had almost lost their lives because their parents loved them too much and hadn't told them the truth about themselves and the world. The children were watched more carefully than they ever knew. The brothers did what they could to keep them safe. Sometimes though, it just wasn't enough. "I'm your great, great, great, ... too many greats' to list grandfather's brother. Your uncle, I suppose."

"Oh." Marianne dipped her head in acknowledgment and quickly shifted her eyes away from his. It was bad manners to look a superior in the eye. And in her world it was asking for trouble. Her great, great, great, great, so on and so on, uncle confused her. He smelled of pack and of wolf. But, he wore his authority and power reluctantly. Almost as if he didn't believe the reality of whom he was. And that might be the case. Before today, Drew had been nothing more than whispered rumors amongst the pack. A shadow only a few had seen in person and no one but Aunt Tala and her Grandfather had ever met. His brother, the man she knew and loved as the Great White Wolf, spent time with each and every member of the pack. The hole the Prophet had left behind when he died was still in their hearts. And she suspected, as Drew's eyes ran over the photographs on the mantle, in his as well.