Dawn's End

In a way, the bungalow reminded him of his cabin. He hadn't thought much about the place, till now. Until he'd stepped into this room, he hadn't given much thought to his former life at all. He had been too invested in the life of his son and the lives of others. And in the process he had forgotten about himself and the things he had wanted once upon a time. There were so many things he simply gave up on as unobtainable.

He was too busy hiding from life to enjoy living it. So many things had changed since that snowy night a year ago, when he'd exited off the interstate and pulled into town. Life baffled him sometimes. The way things turned out when he looked back on them never ceased to amaze him. He could control his gift. He could choose to see or to be surprised by the mystery of another person. With Cindy, he chose to quiet his gift and let her and the possibilities take him by complete surprise. He didn't want to see her past. The future was too far away to contemplate. All he wanted was the present and to live, finally live, without fear in it. "Hi."

Cindy let out a soft exhale. She didn't know what she expected from Robert. She'd invited him into her home. So many people looked at her lifestyle, her house, and assumed she was down on her luck or just plain, flat broke. Her own family assumed she was in a dead end job going nowhere. Robert didn't assume a thing. He hadn't stared at the threadbare spots in her carpet or her worn, hand me down furniture and judged her or her home. He looked relaxed and at ease in her house and around her in general. She stayed in the house because she liked it. She kept the tattered furniture because it was comfortable, not because she couldn't afford better. And she found herself, liking Robert a little bit more because he hadn't raised an eyebrow in question.

She had plans. Goals. She was saving to buy the bar and if she had enough when the time came, the farm from her landlord. She tensed and relaxed. Robert's smile reassured her that he wasn't judging, only accepting her, with no preconceived notions. She shrugged a little awkwardly, not used to being herself around anybody and handed him an empty box. "I guess we'd better get started."

Chapter 46

Maggie lounged in Cole's arms cuddled against his chest. His back rested against the massive carved oak headboard. Their bare feet tangled, peeking out from beneath the thick down of a heavy comforter. Outside the window, stray flakes of silvery white snow fluttered down from a velvet black sky. A cheerful fire danced on the gas logs of the marble fireplace nestled in the corner of their expensive suite. Real life was coming for them soon enough. In just a couple of short weeks school would start back up again. She'd be tucked away in a dorm room studying while Cole protected the known universe from all the preternatural nasties out there.

Maggie always thought it funny that the college called the new semester the spring semester, considering it began in the second week of January, the coldest month of the year. Short days and long, long nights, two month's worth of them and hundreds of miles worth of distance would separate them again. Tipping back her head, she toyed with the silver chain around Cole's neck. The silver pendant, a pair of fangs, she'd seen at a novelty store on campus and promptly bought for him as a gag gift for Christmas, tangled around the gold cross, affixed to a worn leather strap he always wore at the hollow of his throat.

She didn't mind sharing Cole with Rachael. The delicate gold cross had belonged to her. He wore it in her memory, to remind her of what it was like to be human. In case he ever dared to forget. Maggie had a nagging sliver of doubt buried deep in her psyche when it came to Rachael. Would Cole be here now if Rachael had lived? Would they be in love or would he be professing his love to her instead? Would his mother's engagement ring be on Rachael's finger instead of hers? She'd never met Rachael. The girl was a ghost from another life. A different one, one Cole had lived before he met her.

Cole had introduced them. Taken Maggie to Rachael's grave. Maggie hadn't minded. She understood about life and its cycle. Everyone loved. Everyone lost. Everyone was haunted by memories of someone they wished they hadn't lost. Maggie had even talked to her. The vow, a whispered promise carried on autumn's chill, to love Cole with all that she had and all that she was. And she did, enough that she was considering making the ultimate sacrifice to see to that vow for all time.

Cole rubbed his cheek against the top of Maggie's head. Her hair was soft against his skin. Her whole body was soft, as if it were wrapped in silk instead of flesh. Idly, with his thumb, he toyed with the ring on her left ring finger, marveling at how she'd agreed to be his for all time.

A part of him wondered if he was being fair in asking her. There was so much that he couldn't do. So many things, he couldn't give her. He could go out to dinner with her. But, he couldn't eat. He could watch the son rise over the horizon. As long as he watched it behind tinted lenses. She could hold a baby, but it wouldn't be theirs. He could give her a good and happy life. But, he couldn't stop her from growing old and dying unless he wanted to take her life in trade. And in so many ways, by asking her to marry him, he'd already asked her to trade away more of her life, for him, than was just or fair.

"You hungry?" he asked. The very least he could do for the girl who'd just agreed to be his wife was to keep her fed. Already, he was forgetting the nuances of being human. The taste of a good hamburger, the fizzle of a freshly opened bottle of grape pop when the bubbles went up your nose, the crunch of a chilled dill pickle, the quiet of being alone in your own head, and the fresh clean smell of the city after a rainstorm. All the little things that she took for granted, he could barely remember.

Maggie shook her head. Not that the food wasn't fantastic. But, room service was getting a little old. Having Cole watch every bite she took with rapt fascination was a bit unnerving to say the least. It was like he tasted, savored, and enjoyed the food through her. Once, she forgot, he was just so damned human sometimes, and she offered him a bite. Ashamed and deflated, she'd promptly set the tray outside the door to be picked up by the staff.

"Cole, turn me. Tonight." Maggie spun in his arms, facing him, and gathered her hair in her fist up off her neck.

Cole traced the path of her carotid, pounding wildly beneath his finger, down her neck. What she was asking. What she was offering was insanity. She didn't fully understand everything she was so willing to give up. "What about college?"

Maggie shrugged. "I changed my mind." Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath the trace of Cole's fingertip. She extended her neck and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"You're not ready. I thought I knew everything I was giving up. I didn't. I have no regrets. Don't think I do, but I had the training and I still wasn't ready. I don't think anyone can fully measure all the parts of the life they're leaving behind. You can't mean this," Cole protested. He rested his palm over her beating heart. Her chest rose and fell with a steady pulse beneath his hand. He took her hand in his and placed it over his chest, on the spot where his heart beat. Index finger hooked under her chin. He guided her face closer to his. They sat, eye to eye. "Maggie, there is no going back."

"I know."

"After college, when you've had time to live a little. Then we'll talk. You'll go through the training. Do it right."

"I don't want to be a warrior. I only want to be your wife." Maggie leaned forward and pressed her lips to the place where her hand had rested. He was warm and alive. The taste of his skin was salty on the tip of her tongue.

Cole grabbed Maggie's shoulders and pushed her back till she sat on the rise of his thighs. Their eyes met. "Three months ago you wanted college. What happens three months from now when you wake up and realize you got a life you didn't want in exchange for the one you had?"

"We aren't the same. Not now. I want that. I want us to be the same. I want to start our lives together, as one, not as two separate entities. You can't go back and the only place I've got to go is forward."

"You mean it don't you," Cole said, awestruck by what Maggie was willing to endure to be by his side. Her hands were soft, trapping his cheeks firmly between her palms.

"With all my heart," Maggie answered.

Cole wrapped his arms around her, pinning her body against his chest. His fangs ached with the need to clamp down on her soft flesh. Instead, he pressed his lips to the bounding pulse point, feeling her stiffen beneath him. "Your heart will wait until you're ready."

"I'm ready now," Maggie answered breathlessly. Cole was so strong. There was no way she could work her body out of his embrace until he was ready to release her. His breath fanned along her skin, goose-pimpling the flesh at the base of her neck with its warmth.

"Maggie, I'm supposed to protect you from the bad guys, not be one of them. I can't do this. I can't hurt you like this." He released her from the crush of his embrace and rested her cheek against his chest. "We've got time," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Maggie, we've got tons and tons of time." The words were more for him than for her. He needed the reassurances, the lies he told her. Time was a relative thing and it passed far too quickly. If nothing else, it was far too precarious to be taken for granted.

"No, YOU'VE got time," Maggie argued, pressing her finger into his chest. "I've got this moment and nothing beyond it. You did this for David and Nora. They have each other because you gave it to them.

Cole wrinkled his brows and gripped her index finger in his fist. "Nora was willing to die for what she wanted. Are you? Are you really willing to die for me? For this life?"

"Yes," Maggie answered.

Cole gripped the back of Maggie's head and guided her into his chest. He meant to scare her. Warn her of the pain to come. Her breath hitched in her throat for a moment then was released in a shaky, resolute sigh. "Maggie, there's no turning back."

"I know. There never has been since the day we met." She did her best to sound brave despite the quiver in her voice. Her mother would not be thrilled about this. Her dad, he didn't know about the secret parts of his family's lives. Cole's hands were relentless, fisting her hair by the roots in an iron grip.

Energy radiated from his body and prickled along her skin like the crawling of an army of fire ants. He wore his humanity as a warrior wore a shield. With no barrier to block his power, she felt the predator he hid so carefully from the world. The predator she would become to be by his side.

Fear gripped her heart. She knew the nuts and bolts of becoming a vampire. How it was done, stories of the agonizing transformation and the endless burden of the thirst. She could die. Some did. The blood for whatever reason didn't take. He asked her if she was ready to die for him. She had thought she was. But, with his breath on her skin and the waves of his power spilling over her. The moments of anticipation ticked by slowly, giving her time to think about what was to come. About how there was no, absolutely no going back. Maybe she should have one last meal. Even a condemned man facing his execution got that much. Maybe one last summer to bask in the sun. One last walk in the woods A final goodbye to her family...just in case. "Cole!" She twisted free from his grip.

Cole closed his eyes and reined his predator back in. His body trembled from his efforts. Maggie heaved a breath of relief and rested her hand on his cheek. He pressed his forehead against hers and rubbed the tip of his nose along the soft slope of her nose. Her tiny hand clasped in his, gently. His thumb traced the ring on her finger. Soft as a whisper, her lips brushed against his mouth. He didn't want to think about what might have happened if she hadn't stopped him. "I love you."

Maggie slid into the hard planes of his body and molded herself around him. "I love you too." The hotel around them was quiet. Snow softly flicked against the panes of glass in a light tapping rhythm. Tonight only they existed in this sequestered world. She'd stopped him. Not only because of her fear, but because of what it would do to him. Her head had been full of what she stood to gain at his side as an equal. Only in those last few fleeting moments of her human life before he struck and ended it had she thought about what she might lose. What changing her might do to him, from that there would be no going back.

Chapter 47

Shayla sat in her rocker staring out at the falling snow through the frosted panes of her bedroom window. The world outside looked peaceful, like a gem wrapped in a soft, black velvet cloth. She fingered the squares of the quilt wrapped around her shoulders lost in thought. Somehow she'd managed to keep it together today. Suffering through all the family togetherness with a forced, strained smile, till she could make it up to her room, put R.J. to bed, and fall apart.

To say her life was complicated and her love life a complete disaster was an understatement. Carter's kiss still burned her lips. Her body still felt the tracings of Tracker's fingertips on her skin. She could blame Carter for leaving her. She could blame Tracker for pursuing her, although she'd done everything in her power to chase him away. No, in the end, she had no one to blame for the mess her life was in but herself.

She should have had more control of herself and her betraying emotions than she had. She'd allowed herself to fall head over heels for Tracker while still holding out the hope that Carter would return someday. He had. Now she was lost, not knowing which path was the right one to follow. Tracker was so right for her. Carter was wrong, so wrong for her on so many different levels.

Texas was sounding better and better. She'd contemplated more than once retreating to her former home and starting over. In a lot of ways, it would be easier to have neither of them than to be forced to choose one over the other. Tracker's patience was wearing thin with her. She couldn't blame him. Didn't blame him one bit if he gave up on her and chose a greener pasture to graze. Carter pulled her in only to push her away. She didn't, no she wouldn't blame herself if, finally after so many tries at rekindling their romance only to fail miserably again and again, if she gave up on him altogether.

Running from her problems had never been her way. A life of indecision had never been one she'd choose to live. Yet, she hovered like a hummingbird between two very succulent blossoms, not knowing which one to drink from. A thought she'd been juggling with the Tracker and Carter dilemma was that she didn't have to choose either of them. She could go her own way, simplify her life a great deal, and choose neither. At least that way, her decision would be fair. They would all suffer equally as losers.

Shayla knew she was a strong woman, independent, and down right cold as a northern wind when she had to be. Losing Ramon had taught her some tough lessons about life. She thought when she watched his life bleed out on the platform that she'd fall to pieces and never be able to pick them up again. She had. She could do it again. Shunning both Tracker and Carter, denying her heart and the call of her wolf would be hard. But, she could do it. Her resolve, determined as it was, fell to dust at her feet as she looked across the darkened room to find Tracker in the doorway watching her.

Tracker moved with such grace, just watching him cross the room was breathtaking. Raw power harnessed by decades of training, honed by pure control, coiled and released with each fall of his foot and ripple of muscle. Her wolf appreciated the swell of energy radiating off of him. Shayla and her wolf were shocked when he dropped to his knees at her feet and rested his head against the softness of the quilt draped over her thighs. Her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, reached out to stroke the sleek tangle of his hair.

Tracker opened his eyes and stared up at Shayla's darkened silhouette. Her fingers were delicate, working their way through the thickness of his hair, nails gently grazing his scalp. The warmth of her body radiated through the thick quilt in comforting waves. She had no idea of the levels he'd reduced himself to. How badly his wolf wanted to sink his teeth into Carter's flesh and rip him to pieces bit by bit. And how much restraint it took him to keep his wolf from doing exactly that.

They belonged together, Shayla and he, and Carter was nothing but an obstacle to be overcome. His wolf was territorial and didn't like competition sniffing around. His wolf considered Shayla and her wolf to be his property. And Tracker readily agreed.

Shayla would not be won by force. Any open confrontation with Carter might throw her straight into his arms. Tracker wouldn't risk it. Shayla had to come to him on her own terms and in her own time. All he could do was continue to wear down her resistance and wait. Play the ever patient male for all it was worth. Stalk the game with quiet determination and strike, when the time was finally right.

Shayla slid her fingers along the roughness of Tracker's unshaven cheek. The stubble was rough against her fingertips. He lifted his weight up onto his knees. Wrapping his arms around her hips, kneading the fabric of the quilt in his fists. She hated this game they were both so embroiled in. Hated they way she constantly hurt him. Much like Carter played her, she played Tracker. Drawing him in to cast him aside only to pull him in once again. Guiltily, she confessed her feelings, "You deserve better."

Tracker lifted his face, leaning his cheek into the soft cup created by her hand. He saw the pity for him in her eyes. Hurting him was breaking her heart. He wedged his hips in between her thighs and took advantage of the tenderness of her feelings. The way her body responded to his touch, arching into the stroke of his fingers along her spine gave her away. Leaning in, he stole a kiss, and then another. "You're exactly what I need. Don't tell me what I deserve when everything I want I find in you."

Shayla couldn't help herself. She was weary and worn down from the constant battle between her heart, her body, her mind, and the men in her life. Tracker worked the curves of her flesh the way artists worked clay. Beneath his touch she found herself molded and shaped, transformed from a useless, shapeless lump into something beautiful and desirable. He cradled her head and guided her down onto the floor. The quilt formed a soft, warm barrier between the cold hardness of the floor beneath her and the firm, heat of the man above her. She gave in to him and her body's relentless wanting and let the moment sweep all doubts, all worries away in wave of sensation after delicious wave of sensation.

Chapter 48

Robert dutifully packed fragile Christmas ornaments in faded scraps of wrapping paper and bits of bubble wrap and foam for safe storage till next year. Cindy grinned down at him from her perch on a ladder that had seen better days. Carefully, he took a spun glass angel from her hand and added it to the collection in the cardboard box at his feet.

With the last ornament off the tree and deposited into Robert's careful hands, Cindy climbed off the rickety ladder, mindfully watching for splinters in the worn wood. Grinning, she slapped her hands together in a gesture of satisfaction. "You're pretty good help."

"Thanks," Robert said. Gently closing the folds of the cardboard box, he taped them shut with a long strip of duct tape. He snickered as Cindy plugged in the lights for one last glance at Christmas past before packing it away for another year. "It was a pretty tree," he mumbled. Lights of red, gold, green, and a color between purple and blue glittered.