Dawn's End

Cindy snorted and shrugged, "Meh." She turned the plastic sprig of winter green leaves and pale white berries in her hand. "Damn, I forgot to stuff this in the box."

"I think I can stuff it in here," he said. Kneeling on one knee, he pried a loose edge of duct tape back and opened the corner of the box.

She stood over Robert, with the mistletoe extended down to him with two fingers. The Christmas lights cast a shine on his faded summer blond highlights and shadows highlighted the hard plane of his jaw. A blush heated her cheeks as he reached up to take the forgotten artificial greenery from her hand. "Aren't we supposed to kiss or something? After all, it is Christmas and that is mistletoe you're holding over my head," he asked, his voice deepening with interest.

"It's plastic, ninety-nine cents at the Super Center," she answered with a shrug. "I'm not sure it counts." Nervously, shuffling her feet as he stood, plucking the sprig from her hand, he tossed it into the open box. His fingers wound through the belt loops of her jeans, guiding her closer.

"It does, it definitely does," Robert answered. His eyes followed the movement of Cindy's tongue as it nervously licked over her lips, moistening them with a glossy shine. His own palms were a bit sweaty and his heart kicked up the pace with a nervous beat. He rested his hands on her curvy hips. The worn denim was soft against his fingertips. Gingerly, he ducked his head down to claim his owed kiss.

Robert's fingers tightened their grip on her belt loops. His palms gently kneaded the flesh at her hips. At first, the kiss had started out innocent enough. Nothing more than a well placed peck on the lips. Then, the kiss had progressed into something more. The pure excitement of his mouth on hers sent jolts of electricity up and down her spine. His mouth was soft, tongue gently probing the border of her lips. As she opened for him and allowed him to explore and did a little of her own exploring in return, the kiss deepened into something less innocent and much, much more interesting.

Robert was taller than she. In order to get the most out of the kiss and the heated contact between their bodies, she had to balance on her tip toes and lean into him. He growled a masculine growl of approval and took full advantage of the opportunity, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her as close against him as he could. There was no mistaking his response to the kiss or the contact. Her toes curled in her worn, comfortable boots as the evidence pressed hard and firm against her stomach.

She'd worked so hard to overcome the town's prejudices against her. Everyone, it seemed, had a preconceived notion that because she was single, fortyish, and a bartender with very late hours. That she was looser in the morality department than most of her god-fearing neighbors. That was hardly the case. If she took someone home, it was because she didn't want a DUI or an accident on her conscience. After making sure they got home and in the door safely. She came home alone. But, it didn't stop the town busy bodies from gossiping. Rumors hurt and she'd gotten more than her share of turned up noses and haughty, pretentious eye rolls over the years.

She wanted to lose herself in his embrace. Let the newness and the anticipation of his touch and his kiss carry her away. His hands were light and hesitant, shifting between grasping her hips and working their way up the curve of her spine. His kiss was deep and searching. The dips and rolls of his tongue inside of her mouth filled with unspoken want. She fisted the soft, weathered hem of his flannel shirt desperate for an anchor to keep her from floating adrift in the current.

Robert was dizzied by the sensation of silent touch. Keeping his mind closed to her and his heart open to the possibilities was not an easy thing. Terrified of the errant thought or the flashing of a picture in his mind's eye. He had denied himself the pleasantries of a kiss, the heated press of body against body, and the gentle softness of a woman's touch for far too long. He felt like an awkward schoolboy on a first date. Apparently, he was doing something right. Her hips arched toward him, brushing things down below until the heat of the contact was almost painful.

Cindy stiffened in his arms, breaking the kiss with a series of playful nips along his bottom lip. Her body was still molded to him. Breasts crushed to his chest. Hips pressed agonizingly against his groin. A worried expression spread over her features as she clung to his shoulders and stared up at him.

Nervously, her fingers twisted the collar of his flannel shirt. Sure, maybe it was cheating to lower his armor and take a peek into where her head was. But, no matter how much like riding a bike Mack claimed romance to be. He sure didn't want to find out the hard way, through skinned knees and wounded pride that he wasn't that good of a rider after all.

He dropped his control and did his best to interpret the images he saw. Lack of desire was not the problem between them. She worried over past hurts and potential new ones. Fear of rejection hung over her head like a black storm cloud. Robert enveloped her in a tight embrace and bent to kiss the pink shell of her ear. As guilty as he felt for using a little magic to help him along the bumpy road of romance, he used what he'd gleaned for a good cause. He understood her worries and her fears because their devils were one in the same. He whispered reassurances in her ear. Not because the words were ones she needed to hear to secure his place with her, but, because he meant them.

Cindy tipped her head back, slightly tilting her face to meet his eyes. Her fingers loosed their death grip on his collar and gently traced the slopes and valleys of his cheeks. He didn't make any promises. They were too new to one another for promises. No matter how well intended, she wouldn't have believed them even if he had. The words from his mouth were exactly the right ones. After years of working behind a bar, she had a nose for bullshit and could smell a come on line from a mile away. His honesty was refreshing and much sexier than a thousand come on lines and innuendos ever could be.

She wanted him and he wanted her. Despite the abrupt break off of their heated make out session, he was still hard against her. They were consenting adults. Middle aged and a bit faded around the edges, perhaps. What went on in her home and whom it went on with wasn't anyone else's concern. She'd let others judge her unfairly and taken their bias to heart. Without a thought for herself, she'd considered their opinions above the things she wanted and needed. She'd effectively isolated herself and her heart to avoid the gossip of a bunch of busy bodies with nothing better to do. No more. "It's been," she said with a shake of her head, "a long time."

Robert stroked his thumb along Cindy's lower lip. A shiver shot down his spine as she pursed her lips and the tip of her tongue traced the pad of his thumb. A long time? He was the king of 'a long time'. His fingers slid along the curve of her neck, guiding her mouth up to meet his lips. "You have no idea how long," he muttered, joining their mouths in a kiss.

The dim glow of Christmas lights provided the perfect backdrop for a night of lovemaking. Robert was patient. He took his time working his way along the curves of her body. Slowly divesting her of one article of clothing at a time. Reverently stopping to pay homage to each inch of bare skin as he did so. An impatient cry snuck its way free from her throat. The anticipation was building to a fevered pitch. Each touch, each sensation was more erotic than the one before.

The rug beneath her back provided shelter from the winter's cold seeping through the carpet. In the morning, she might have regrets about their choice of locations after such a long dry spell. She'd be stiff and sore after a night of romping around on the floor like a horny teenager, but she could deal. She could definitely, definitely deal.

Robert grinned at Cindy's impatient whimpers. After so long of sitting in the cheap seats. Watching the action from the proverbial sidelines. He was damned well going to take his time. His fingers stroked along the satin of her skin. Teasing and touching every inch of her, he savored the taste of her skin on the tip of his tongue. Loving the way her back arched and her breath hitched in her throat when he discovered a particularly pleasurable spot.

Robert's mastery of Cindy's body did nothing to tamp his own building need. Her fingers deftly worked his belt buckle and jeans loose and found their way to the heat of him hidden in plain sight beneath. Male doubts that she might find him lacking were quickly doused by sighs of feminine approval and a few hitching breaths of his own. Her palm stroked up and down his length. Fingers searched him out, leaving a heady mix of need and desire. The tension built in his groin until he thought the moment was going to be over before it began. Gently, he grabbed her wrist and guided her hand elsewhere as he worked to tame his too eager body into submission.

The first time wasn't going to last very long. A wise man admitted his limitations. Robert didn't have iron will to prolong the moment once it started. He basked in the glory of her body, worshiping every curve and soft bit of flesh. The sighs of her pleasure were foreplay enough to work him into a frenzy of instinct. His fingers strained to tease her to the point of breaking. Her body clinched around him, slick and hot, tensing around his fingers in the rush of her release. He'd never heard such a beautiful thing as the sound of her voice, soft and so very female, moaning in completion.

Cindy shivered and a hot flush of orgasm stung her cheeks. Robert stared down at her through thickly veiled eyes heavy with desire. There was a moment of shy awkwardness as his eyes roamed her naked body. She saw nothing but approval and raw want reflected in his gaze. Relaxed and feeling better than the law should allow, she grappled with his jeans and underwear, working them down over his hips. She was all in. Too far involved to go back now. He'd given her a much, much needed release and she intended to return the favor.

Robert wiggled free from his boots and kicked his jeans and underwear into a heap at his feet. Cindy loomed over him. Eyes raking like nails down his bare flesh as she took him in. He tensed for a brief moment and then closed his eyes. Her palm found him and quickly established a rhythm. His hips bucked and sweat beaded across his brow, working to maintain control against the wonderful sensation of pressure building from a gentle moan to a screaming howl in his groin.

The last woman he'd been intimate with had been his ex-wife. The world today was different. He was definitely in a different place in his life than he had been back then. He didn't want his first time in nearly twenty years to result in an unwanted pregnancy or in a trip to the good doctor Thomas Sterling for something penicillin couldn't cure.

After Cole's transformation from human to vampire, his son, as a joke, had stuffed a couple of condoms into a compartment in Robert's wallet. After all, vampires didn't catch human diseases and they certainly couldn't make babies. Cole had said he didn't need them any more and that he had high hopes for his 'old man' to make it to home plate sometime this decade. His son also teased that the condoms were XXL King Size and that Robert could tie a knot in the end if he wasn't man enough to fill them out. Tossing the shit right back at his son, Robert had contended that Cole only had half of his DNA and therefore was half the man he was. Robert had forgotten about the condoms until now. Awkwardly, between the delicious sensation of Cindy's lips on his mouth and her hand on his erection, he fished in the pile of clothes for his wallet and the piece of mind a thin barrier of latex could provide.

Cindy raised a brow at Robert's clumsy one-handed search through his wallet and the package he worked free. Her cynicism waded its way through the bottomless pools of passion to chastise her in a mocking, self-demeaning tone. He had condoms in his wallet. How cliché. How presumptive. She was about to toss him out on his assuming, egotistical rear when she saw how embarrassed he was, awkwardly fumbling with the condom like a boy who had accidentally stumbled across dad's forbidden stash. Gingerly, she took the package from his fingers and pulled out the piece of lubricated, and she raised an eyebrow again at the packaging, ribbed for her pleasure, condom, slipping it into place with ease.

The contact of her hand with the thin, tender, sensitive skin of his penis was toe curling. The condom was cold, clammy, and very, very awkward. He was ashamed of his clumsy fumbling with such a simple task. Cindy quickly had him worked out of his moment of shame and back on task. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her waist and guided her onto her back. Despite the mood damper created by the condom, they were both beyond the embarrassment soon enough.

Opening for him and arching her hips, Cindy anticipated the sensation of Robert plunging into her. He stroked the softness between her legs with eager fingers until she teetered on the brink, arching her hips, clutching his butt with her fingers and whispering encouragement. He slid into her depths, stretching her, filling her till she relaxed to accommodate him. Starbursts of pleasure shot from her core along her body to explode in waves of joy.

Robert groaned and bit his lip. He was too close and the moment way, way too soon. His fingers dug into the rug beneath them as he struggled to maintain control. Her body was a hot, wet, tight sheath around him. Gripping him with a muscular fist. He moved, slowly at first, allowing her time to catch up with him. Each push drove him closer to the brink and he wanted to be sure he took her there with him. Encouraged by the digging of her blunt nails into the skin of his buttocks, he increased the pace.

Her hips writhed beneath him. Pleasure, unlike the dulled pleasure of his memories, but truer, real pleasure shot through him. The slap of their bodies, slicked by a fine sheen of sweat, pulsed through his flesh and down his spinal column.

Her voice, the sweet, sweet voice of an angel, sang his praises and cried out with a heavenly chord of pure bliss. She came. For him. Because of him. With him. His release started at the soles of his feet and ripped its way along his body, every nerve ending alight with sensation and the joy of finding his forgotten paradise in her arms. When they were irrevocably spent, he cuddled her in his arms and traced the patterns created by the glow of Christmas light on her skin.

Cindy stared up at Robert. Inviting him into her bed, even if they hadn't quite made it officially to the bed, was chancy. Relaxed and boneless, she concluded that the risk was worth it. Mack had vouched for him, but man's word alone wasn't enough. Something within Robert himself called, no gently asked, for her to trust him. And she had. Naked in his arms beneath a thousand merrily glittering lights, their colors shining through the tangle of his wavy hair, she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

The cell phone in Robert's jeans pocket vibrated, alerting him that he had received a text. If the brothers needed him, they would have called and not bothered with a text that could be seen by prying eyes. Cole usually checked in once or twice a day. He'd catch up with his son later. Tonight, he was busy, for once, with his own life and all the possibilities contained there in.

Chapter 49

Cole finished his text and carefully reached out to put the phone on the bedside table. Maggie slept with the comforter wrapped up beneath her chin, nestled in the crook of his arm. She slept as if she didn't have a care in the world. He supposed, she didn't. She knew what she wanted and what she wanted to be. She trusted him. At the time, when he'd given Nora her new lease on life, he didn't understand David's fear of doing the act himself. Now, he got it, completely. If he failed, Maggie would die in his arms. He'd lose her by fate's design. He'd texted his dad for a little late night conversation and perhaps a few affirmations.

He would have loved to stay here, locked away in this little love nest for another week, hell for the rest of his natural life, just Maggie and him. But, she was so insistent. So determined to see this through, now, not later. The more he battled her determination the harder she fought until she'd completely worn him down. At dawn, they were driving back to the compound to discuss her decision with the Great Father and to beg his permission to turn her into all the things Cole hated most about himself. He'd rob her of her life and her humanity and give her this pale, dimmer, version of an existence in exchange. All for the sake of love and the tentative promise of eternity.

Chapter 50

The door made a hiss as the magnetic locks disengaged and the electric hum faded to absolute silence. O'Sullivan glanced up at the lack of noise. His hearing was so used to the sounds of his impending death that without them he almost begrudged the interruption. His brows lifted in curiosity at the man crossing the threshold to his humble home away from home. Hungry, almost insane with thirst, he did his best to collect his composure and become a shadow of his former self. That, and to hide the artwork scrawled in his own blood on the concrete floor beneath him. The boredom was a bitch and his thoughts weren't the best of companions these days. "Finally come to face the devil?" he asked, his voice laced with sardonic contempt.

Drew tipped his chin toward the blood drawings on the floor and lifted a brow curiously at the theme. Peaceful landscapes and rolling meadows had been traced by a skilled hand across the concrete floor. O'Sullivan's wrist was raw and bloodied from his efforts. "I didn't know you were an artist," he blandly stated and took a seat in the metal folding chair situated at the far side of the holding cell. John Mark stood at his back to the left and Dane, to his left.

"I've been many things in my life," O'Sullivan muttered. He was painfully, self-consciously aware of how insane he must seem to them. Crouched in a corner, at the end of his tether, manacles rattling against concrete, drawing in his own blood, and positively certifiable. Head cocked to the side, he studied the cool exterior of his captor.

"A pain in my ass most recently," Drew begrudged. O'Sullivan was showing the strain of his captivity. Hunger peeked out from behind the mask of indifference on his face. His eyes twinkled with keen intelligence. His prisoner had been shoved in this hole, not forgotten, but definitely not shown the most hospitable of treatment either. Even the strongest among them would break without proper care. The problem, O'Sullivan was too dangerous to treat any differently. He couldn't be trusted to behave himself long enough to take nourishment from the hunt. Drew would be damned if he'd invite a human into the cell to feed his prisoner.

A smile crept across O'Sulivan's face. "At least I make life interesting." He sat cross-legged, no longer tugging at the bindings that restrained him. The Great Father was a formidable opponent. The man was a wall of muscle and bulk, tall and built like a warrior with shrewd eyes and a determined jaw. There was more vampire folklore surrounding the man and who he'd once been than perhaps any other vampire in history. Ultimately though, the Great Father was just a man turned vampire. A man who had in his brief time, seen more than his share of pain and bore its scars.

Drew leaned forward resting hands on his knees. "I can do without it," he hissed. Undone by O'Sullivan's stubbornness and lack of remorse, he blew out a breath and sat back in his chair. He had no idea what to do with this man. He couldn't keep him locked up forever. Death would be better than a slow demise by starvation. The law required his death. But, Drew found himself reluctant to carry out the sentence to its letter.