Dawn's Destiny

Drew couldn't help staring at the generations captured in the pictures. Early sketches, tin plates, then black and white photos yellowed with age, and more recent snapshots in crisp, vibrant color highlighted the history of his family. And in every stranger's face he saw something, some genetic remnant of his brother and of himself. Their history was his history. The two intertwined in a delicate balance of wolf and man. He hadn't expected the feel of warm delicate fingers on his shoulder and the gentle peck of a kiss on his cheek. He hadn't thought anyone actually wanted him here. But, in his native language, spoken far too solemnly for a girl her age. Marianne welcomed him home with a kiss that spoke of acceptance, of family, and of future.

Nash smiled at his granddaughter. He felt the ripple of acceptance and of peace echo through Drew and out into the wide-open etherworld that was pack magic. He rose from his seat and picked up the empty glasses sitting on the table between the chairs. Walking to the bar he poured a generous shot of whiskey into each of them. There was much for them to discuss. But, what Mouse had done with the gentleness of a child's kiss had managed what no amount of words could have.

"Mouse, isn't it your night on kitchen detail?" Nash asked. He chuckled and tugged on the end of her braid as she rolled her big brown eyes at him and stomped out of the study in fake annoyance at being reminded of her chores. Settling into his chair, he handed one of the whiskeys to Drew and sipped quietly on his own. Savoring the taste and the burn of the liquor on the tip of his tongue.

Drew accepted the whiskey from Nash and tried another timid sampling from the glass. This time, the drink was not a challenge, nor was it a test. The sharing of the fine liquor was intended as a gesture of friendship. He felt the burn of the whiskey all the way down to his toes. And he didn't quite get what was so good about the good stuff. But, he drank it sip by sip anyway. Not to prove any point. The two of them sat, chasing away the chill of the damp evening by the fireplace, sharing a drink, and companionable silence. And he thought about all the times he'd wished for this, a moment's worth of peace to sit and do what he was doing now, with his brother. And although his brother was gone, in a way he was still here, living in Nash, Marianne, Tala, and the generations of family he'd left behind.

Drew understood why Tala felt she couldn't defy her father. Nash loved his family. His race hung in the balance. If children weren't born, there was no future for the wolves. He understood her better now after sitting with her father surrounded by the smell of pack and home. Why she so desperately needed him to accept the wholeness of the truth about himself.

There was a restless undercurrent running through the pack, an almost eager agitation. A wolf was hungry. Stalking the shadows and biding his time as he watched, calculated, and analyzed each and every move he made. Tala feared for her father's life. And she might be right to do that. The pack was weak. And Drew, in his reluctance to accept the truth gifted to him, had made it such. The wolf wasn't a direct threat to him. The power was within him to lead this pack. If only he could learn to embrace it. But, to Nash the wolf pacing the fringes was a very real danger. And he might be to Tala as well. Drew was trying to do what she'd asked of him. But, he and his wolf were just now getting acquainted. It would take time. Time he wasn't sure the wolves had.

Giggles and curious wide brown eyes peeked around the doorframe into the study and were just as quickly gone as Nash shot them a disapproving glower. The hallway echoed with the sound of feet pattering rapidly up the hall and the resounding musical sound of squeals and laughter. Obviously, Mouse was not the only one eager to get a peek at the Great White Wolf. Nash drained the contents of his glass and noticed Drew had likewise finished his. "Kids," he said, shaking his head and sighing. "What are you gonna do?"

Drew chuckled and deposited his empty glass on the table. Tala had told him he could father children. Real children. And the thought of it kept him awake whenever he closed his eyes to dream. He'd accepted that he was unable to have children when he'd signed on for this life. And he'd just as quickly put it out of his mind. He'd never considered that he might someday have to rethink the idea. And as for where he stood on the subject his feelings were ambiguous. He simply didn't know if he wanted them. Maybe, eventually, he might. And maybe, he might not.

Nash added another log to the fire, stirring the embers with the end of a poker. Drew was deep in thought. And taking his seat in the wingback chair, Nash left him to them.

Chapter 6

Tala hid around the corner. Keeping out of sight. She'd heard the masculine laughter and Drew's deep voice echoing up the stairwell. Unable to stand it another second, she'd given into her curiosity and snuck down from her room to investigate. The pack was a hive of activity. Dishes rattled as the table was set for the evening meal. Kids played and chased each other up and down the long hallways. At least a dozen TVs chattered from the various rooms. And there were twice as many if not more conversations going on at the same time, all of them revolving around the Great White Wolf and his unexpected visit.

She held her breath as she peeked around the wall separating the living room from the dining room. Drew looked as good as ever. He sported a casual look complete with a pair of faded denim jeans riding low on his narrow hips and a broadcloth button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing his muscular forearms. The mocha color of his shirt accentuated the richness of his dark eyes. He wore the first two buttons undone, showing the hollow of his throat and hinting at the hard ridge of his collarbones. She licked her dry lips remembering exactly how good the skin in that small place tasted and how tantalizing the hardness of his collarbones was beneath her lips as she kissed a path from one to the other.

His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed with recognition at the scent of her desire. His eyes traveled over the faces gathered in the living room to meet him, searching for hers. She quickly ducked around the corner, holding her breath and fisting her fingers to still their trembling. Her father's voice boomed in that loud, commanding manner of his as he introduced Drew to the members of the pack. The rich tenor of Drew's responses as he said his 'hellos' echoed around her. Nothing drew the wolves to the crowded living spaces like the promise of a good meal and it was almost suppertime so the place was packed. Certainly he'd be too diverted to notice if she snuck another peek at him.

She gathered her courage and hazarded another glimpse around the corner for a better look at him. His black hair was slicked back and gathered into a tight ponytail at the base of his skull with a leather thong, highlighting the contours of his high cheekbones and angular jaw. The traces of silver around his temples and streaking through his hair gave him an almost stoic air. He pursed his lips as he tried to put names with faces. Her breath hitched in her throat at the fullness of them. She knew just how good, how soft, those lips felt on hers, on every inch of her.

His scent that of sheer masculinity of wild, wolf, and pine, melted her into a quivering puddle of desire and shaky knees. How dare he look so damnably good! When she looked so awful. How dare he laugh! When she could muster was tears. He joked with the pack. And much to her shock, flashed a fang, sending the kids gathered around him into a squealing fit of laughter. The bastard. So smug and confident, his power and aura rippling through the entire house, drawing everyone to him including her. And not just because he was the Great White Wolf, but because he was just him. In contrast to her, he was so cool and collected, and she was a complete wreck. It wasn't fair!

Drew caught Tala's scent, an intoxicating mixture of wolf and woman, the second he'd stepped foot in the living room. The essence of her surrounded him as he did the meet and greet with the pack. She was close, within a few feet of him. Choosing to hide rather than face him. He could hear her heart beating in her chest like the fluttering of the wings of a caged bird. And the gentle inhale of her hesitant breaths as she drew them into her lungs. Her desire wafted around him like a perfumed cloud of sheer lust. The knowledge that she was so close drove him crazy. It took every bit of restraint and focus he had to continue memorizing everyone's names and faces instead of following that scent and gathering her up in his arms.

The pack was larger than he'd expected. Probably twenty or so people gathered around him. And there were another few dozen scattered throughout the house and out in the woods tending various duties. A handful of children so brave in their innocence touched him with their tiny, curious hands. Tugging at the legs of his jeans or on his sleeve to get his attention. He hadn't expected the pack to welcome him so openly or eagerly. For the most part, the pack was accepting of him. As if he'd always been one of them. And maybe, the part of him that was the Great White Wolf had been.

Marianne set the table as ordered. She hated the mundaneness of the task. Plate, fork, knife, spoon, glass, napkin, over and over and over again, till every seat at the table, roughly the size of a football field, had a setting. As if half of this bunch used the silverware and napkins anyway. She pulled the cart behind her, slapping plates down on the table with all the zeal the duty truly required.

Mealtimes were not civilized affairs. There was plenty of food. Enough was prepared to feed a small army and the ones that pulled kitchen detail, especially dish detail, had it far worse than she. Tonight it was meatloaf and mashed potatoes, if the smell of it was anything to go by. The entire house smelled of baking bread and roasting meat. Meatloaf was one of the house specialties and one of the rare meals almost everyone, including her father, showed up for.

She pulled her cart, the silverware clanking annoyingly against the glasses, around to the far side of the table and repeated the process, glass, fork, knife, spoon, plate, napkin, over again. Groaning inwardly at the mess she'd no doubt have to clean up after every bit of food was eaten. Meals were free for alls. No matter how much food was prepared. Wolves were a hungry bunch and on meatloaf nights there wouldn't be a scrap left. At least, she didn't have to wash the dishes. Her older brothers Daniel and Tristen had that honor. All she had to do was set the three-gazillion place settings and get the dirty dishes back to the kitchen afterwards.

Marianne resisted the urge to skip a knife here and a fork there, just to see if anybody would lift their face up from their plate to go look for one. Fingers worked just fine if nothing else was available to shovel in the food. But, her grandfather insisted that they pretend to have at least some pretense of table manners. At least, as much as a hungry pack could on meatloaf night. Nobody slacked on the job. And her grandfather noticed everything.

She dragged the cart and came to a stop beside her aunt. The monstrosity of the dining room table dominated most of the room and didn't leave much space for anything else. Tala's attention was fixed on the man drawing the crowd in the adjacent living room. And Marianne began to wonder if it was just something a little more than curiosity that held her aunt's attention. At the ripe old age of eleven and three-fourths, Marianne was no stranger to the whole boy/girl, birds and the bees, thing. Her older brothers, Daniel, who was sixteen and Tristen who turned eighteen last month were more than happy to fill in the missing pieces with their stories about the opposite sex. Well, that, and the magazines stashed under their beds.

When the moon heat hit and the females of the pack entered their cycle, couples were not that discriminating about who heard and saw what. Not that Marianne had actually seen a couple actually go at it. But, the walls in their old house weren't all that thick. And she'd heard plenty. The pack had an open attitude about sex and no question ever went unanswered. She would have her first cycle of moon heat around the age of sixteen and every ten years or so afterwards. To her the heat was just one of nature's crueler tricks on the females of the pack. Females were fertile any old time. But, when the moon heat hit, there was no denying it.

Marianne was as terrified by the moon heat as she was intrigued by it. During that time when she was in cycle, she'd be taken care of by her aunts. They'd camp way out in the woods away from the pack, away from the males, until it was over. Unless, she wanted the moon and her hormones selecting her mate for her. Which she most definitely, given her current choices of males, did not. She was curious about boys. But, she wasn't that curious. Boys were still boys, and from the behavior of the males, not much changed when they grew up. Her grandfather assured her that her attitude toward boys would change when she became a woman. But, she seriously doubted it.

Marianne wrinkled her brows and rattled the plates and silverware loudly. Tala didn't bother to look over her shoulder to see what all the ruckus was about. She kept her eyes pinned on Drew from her vantage point, peeking around the corner of the dining room wall. Her aunt had it bad for this particular male. And Marianne in her age eleven and three-fourths wisdom saw fit to help her out. Her aunt was too pretty not to be mated. And who better than the Great White Wolf for a husband?

Marianne grabbed a fork from the massive stack on the cart and ran her thumb over the tines. She might get in trouble for what she was about to do. But, how could she not intervene? Daniel's chuckle rumbled through the dining room as he came around the corner from the kitchen and saw what she was intending. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at her as he carted a platter loaded down with a mountain of meatloaf to the table. Marianne shot him a disparaging glower and crept up on her aunt. He mouthed 'it's your funeral' at her and shuffled back to the kitchen to retrieve more food.

Tala yalped loudly as the tines of a fork poked into her butt. She jumped stumbling from her hiding place and into Drew's line of sight. Marianne had already turned and was casually setting the table as if nothing had happened. Daniel ran a serving spoon through a heap of mashed potatoes making a moat out of the butter running down the sides trying desperately to pretend he saw nothing. Tala was going to kill them both. If they thought kitchen detail was bad it was nothing compared to the list of chores she had in mind as a punishment for them. Flushed out of hiding, embarrassed and ignoring the sting in her right butt cheek and her wounded pride, she gathered her composure and ignored the sensation of Drew's eyes raking down her body.

Nash cleared his throat to get Drew's attention. Tala stood in the wide doorway between the dining room and the living room. Her arms crossed over her chest and her cheeks stained red with a heated blush. Glowering at Drew with an expression of sheer irritation and embarrassment. And no, Nash hadn't missed it, one of desire and deep longing. He'd always known when his daughter finally fell in love. She'd fall hard. And she had. Nash cleared his throat even louder to draw Drew's focus off his daughter. The pack noticed. Grant noticed. He paced the far corners of the room in agitation. And with so much headway made in their meeting, a confrontation between the two males was the last thing Nash needed. "Till tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow." Drew repeated. Reluctantly, he forced his eyes away from Tala and followed Nash to the door. He could feel the heat of her stare on his back. She looked as if she'd just climbed out of bed. Clad in a scanty spaghetti strapped camisole top and even scantier matching shorts. It was difficult for Drew to restrain himself and not rip one of the crocheted throws off the couches lining the living room walls and cover her up from head to toe. How could her father let her out of her room dressed like that? And then he remembered that to the wolves, she probably was more than adequately dressed. The wolves were one with nature and had no problems with nudity.

Nash was trying to usher him to the door. And Drew knew the reason for the sudden hurry to get him out of the house. Another male prowled the deep recesses of the living room. His wolf's growl echoed in Drew's soul, in threat and in warning. Calling to the part of Drew that was one hundred percent wolf and much less a civilized male. And damn him, if his wolf didn't want to rise to the challenge and take out this pup.

He hadn't been introduced to the man during the meet and greet. The male, the watcher, obviously operated under the mistaken notion that Tala was his. Power radiated off the man. His broad shoulders squared. His gaze level and brown eyes sparking with promise to make good on the challenge issued by his wolf. His muscles rippled with tension beneath his t-shirt. His steps were graceful, carefully measured with barely contained energy. He carried no weapons. But, his body, his wolf, was weapon enough to handle any threat. Drew's wolf prowled restlessly almost eagerly though his mind. Stinging his skin with surges of energy as he clamored to take over the body they shared.

Drew had never lost control before and he did not intend to make the mistake of doing so now. He paused inside of the threshold, turning his head to look over his shoulder. He pinned Tala in a gaze that was pure possession, pure male, and left nothing up to interpretation as to where he and his wolf stood on things. "Hello, Tala."

His heart was racing. Pure desire pulsed through his veins. His eye caught the gentle sway of her breasts, loose and free beneath the red cotton top. Her nipples budded beneath the heat of his stare, weakening him and awakening his wolf. Curtains of dark hair fell over her shoulders to curl seductively at the dip of her waist. Her eyes were heated pools of molten lust, glimmering with the force of the wolf beneath them in a fierce golden-brown. He wanted nothing more than for her to at least acknowledge his presence. Physically, she was very aware of him. But, it wouldn't hurt to hear his name from her lips. And damned, if the brainless wonder between his legs didn't rise to the occasion at the sound of it.

Tala tried her best to be casual, as if seeing Drew were an everyday occurrence and his presence had no effect on her at all. "Drew," she said politely, dipping her chin in a nod. She wished she'd thought to put more clothes on. The skimpy, summertime, short outfit she pulled out of the dresser and threw on in haste barely covered her. She should have at the very least dragged a brush through her hair. Not that Drew was exactly eying her hair anyway. Who was she kidding? She'd walked around naked before her shift in front of most of the men in the pack. And not once had she felt the slightest twinge of desire with the level of intensity as she did from Drew. He wasn't interested in her clothes or maybe, if she was wearing any or not, but only in her.

Drew excused himself before the ache between his thighs became an intolerable roar and he found himself doing something stupid. Something like climbing through her bedroom window in the middle of the night to give them both what they so desperately wanted. "Tomorrow then," he said to Nash, making a hasty retreat.