Dawn's End

Maggie smoothed the ragged ends of Cole's hair with her fingers. Through the thick cotton of her sweatshirt she felt the moisture of his tears. The bulk of his weight threatened to topple them both to the hard stone floor. She locked her knees to hold their combined weight. His shoulders heaved beneath the tight stretch of his black t-shirt.

This was the part he hid from her. The part of himself he feared above all others, the darkness of his quest for revenge. He'd controlled his rage. Overcome his darkest demon. She'd always known that part was there. That it'd hold him back as long as he let it. There was nothing left of the boy she'd met last summer. The boy had finally grown up and become a man. He always feared that he wasn't human enough. That the beast would win. She sank to the floor, pulling him down with her. Rocking him, loving him, all of him, the beast and the man, she whispered as she stroked his hair, "I know."

Chapter 64

Shayla rocked R.J., holding his sleeping body tightly in her arms. The rocker, a giant wooden thing creaked in time with her fingers, gently stroking through the softness of his fine baby hair. A hard day of play had done him in and her son never stirred as she got up from the rocker and tucked him into his toddler bed.

The bedroom was dark. Slivers of light softened by the soft glow of white snow crept through the lace curtains over the windows. The house was quiet. It's inhabitants bedded for the night. She slipped out of R.J.'s shoebox sized room and pulled the door closed behind her. She should go to bed and try to get some rest. But, she wasn't quite ready for sleep just yet. Her mind was restless and wandered. Or maybe, it was just that she was avoiding crawling under the covers with Tracker. He slept like a rock, snoring softly and contentedly, an arm stretched across her side of the bed as if he were waiting till she climbed in to tuck it around her.

She padded on bare feet to the window and stared out into the soft blackness of night. All day she'd put off thinking about her body's unruly behavior. More than content to dismiss her bout of sickness as a touch of the flu. She knew better. Werewolves weren't burdened by such human maladies. But, maybe she was different, somehow susceptible. Her palm wandered to the soft curve of her belly, almost as if she could feel the life forming inside.

The lace fabric of the curtains was stiff between her fingers. She couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness as her thoughts wandered to Carter. Was he out there somewhere? Did he ever think about her? A baby would change everything. Squash the fantasy she harbored in her mind. That somehow they'd work everything out and find a way to be together again. He'd bow out gracefully to Tracker for her sake and the sake of the baby. Then again, he didn't need to use her unborn baby as an excuse to leave her. He'd already left. Abandoned her for the sake of his unending guilt.

His maker would be dead in a few days. How that would fuel his guilt and self-hatred. As if he needed any kindling to a fire that already burned out of control. When his blood had linked the two of them together she had felt the tie between him and his creator. He hated that he'd cared so deeply for the man that had stolen his human life. She wished she could be at his side through this dark time. Not that he'd accept any measure of comfort she had to offer. He was on his own and where did that leave her?

She cared for Tracker so deeply that the feeling bordered on love. Yes, she had to admit that she loved Tracker. Not the giddy type of in love that she'd felt for Carter. But, nonetheless, it was love, no paler in comparison and she could make it enough. Tracker was willing to accept what she had to offer. He knew he didn't hold all of her heart. Pieces of it would belong to both Carter and Ramon. She didn't pretend to understand why Tracker didn't demand more. He was certainly worthy of it. Maybe, in time, he hoped that she would forget her past loves completely. She doubted she ever would.

Shayla rested her forehead on the chill pane of the window and exhaled, watching her breath form swirled patterns of white on the dark glass. She closed her eyes, the truth stinging hot tears behind her lashes. How ironic their situations were. She felt for Carter what Tracker felt for her. All she ever wanted was Carter's love. In such an urgent desperate longing that she'd been willing to lap up the scraps he tossed her like a starving dog gobbled up bits from its master's table. In so many ways, her guilt at loving Carter, her knowledge of her deepest heart, that it wasn't good enough for a man as worthy as Tracker, forced her to withhold the very thing he wanted the most. Her love.

Tracker faked sleep, watching Shayla from beneath the thick veil of his lashes. She stood at the window, resting her head against the cold panes of glass, staring out at nothing. Her fingers worried at the lacy edge of the drapes. Pale beams of moonlight outlined the dark silhouette of her body, wrapping around her like a lover's arms. He wished she'd turn to him for comfort. She'd never allow herself such a luxury. Not even when the scent of her loneliness hung so thick in the air, would she give in to his embrace.

He knew late at night, while he pretended to sleep, she gave her mind over to thoughts of Carter. A part of her stubbornly refused to let him go. Tracker did his best to ignore her late night vigils at the window. They served her no purpose other than frustration. Even now, pregnant with his child, she still hoped and dreamed of Carter. It didn't matter. It was his child growing in her womb. It was him that she crawled into bed with. It was his name on her lips when they made love. Begrudgingly, he shared her heart with another man. Taking more than a bit of pleasure in the fact that he had her. As for Carter...he had jack shit.

Shayla heard the sound of covers rustling behind her. Tracker was awake. His shuffling footsteps drew closer to her. Warm arms encircled her waist, pushing out the cold draft from the window. She let the curtains fall closed. Patterns of moonlight cast shapes of light and shadow across the muscles in his arms. His breath was hot on the bare skin of her neck and his embrace gentle. His palm rested over hers. He worked his fingers in between hers, weaving them together. "Come to bed," he whispered in a gruff voice, thick with sleep.

Shayla relaxed into his arms. He was a safe harbor. Warm as a down comforter on a winter's night. Her head rested in the curve of his shoulder. He smelled of sleep and dreams. His skin a velvet cover over the hard steel of his muscular chest. His hand worked her hand in circular massaging motions over her belly. She had to tell him what she suspected he already knew. He'd be thrilled and she'd try her damnedest to share in his excitement. "Sure," she said softly, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek.

Tracker climbed into bed beside Shayla and pulled the covers up over their bodies. With her tucked tightly against his side she had to feel the press of his erection along her hip. He didn't push it. He settled for the contentment of feeling the warmth of her body beside his. He ran his hands over the softness of her cotton nightgown. His fingers molded to the gentle curve of her stomach, marveling at the baby growing inside of her. Not wanting to spoil the moment, he'd wait for her to tell him that he was going to be a father. He would pretend, act shocked and surprised, just like she'd expect him to.

"Tracker...," Shayla whispered into the darkness.

"Hmmm,'" he answered, rubbing his stubbled cheek against the sleek, soft silkiness of her hair. This was it. She was going to tell him. Good thing too. He'd almost picked up the phone a dozen times today to tell his twin the news. He was bursting to tell somebody. His brother was first on his long, long list.

Shayla sighed. She wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet. If she spoke the words, they'd be real. Clinging to the hope that she simply had the flu. Hell, food poisoning would be welcome at this point, she breathed out a breath and scrambled for something to say in place of the truth she wasn't ready to speak. "Good night."

Tracker grinned in the dark cover of night around them, almost chuckling at her reluctance to tell him the truth. Soon enough she'd tell him. "Good night, Shayla." He tucked his arm tighter around her waist, cinching them together and closed his eyes.

Chapter 65

Robert sneezed from all the dust he'd kicked up as he slid the last box into the narrow crawl space Cindy called an attic. The woman was inexhaustible. After putting in a full day at the bar she'd promptly gone to work disassembling the Christmas tree. When he asked why the hurry she'd simply shrugged and stated that she was ready to put the old year behind her and move into a brand new one full steam ahead. He was one for that. The past year had been so full of twists and turns that he was ready to call it a done deal himself.

Careful not to whap his head on the boxy crawl hole in the ceiling that led to the attic, he pulled the hatch shut and climbed down from the rickety ladder she'd all too willingly supplied. "All done," he said, shaking bits of dust and fluffy white blown insulation from his clothes.

"Wonderful," Cindy said, folding the ladder and setting it against a wall. Robert hadn't complained one bit when she put him to work. That earned him some serious brownie points in her book. She grabbed a broom and dustpan from its storage place beside the fridge and began sweeping up the pieces of insulation and bits of dust that had drifted down from the attic.

Pleased that Christmas was at last behind her, she emptied the dustpan into the trash and stowed it and the broom back in their resting place. Pretending to busy herself, she studied the meager contents of her fridge. Since she lived alone and most of the time ate at the bar, she didn't have a lot in the way of groceries on hand. For his efforts, Robert deserved something more substantial than a couple of pieces of week old bologna that were curled and dried around the edges. She rummaged through the freezer, but the findings weren't much better there. The best she could do was a frozen pizza. "You hungry?"

She was avoiding him under the guise of business. Robert was a nice guy. It wasn't necessarily that she minded his niceness. In fact, his gentlemanly gestures were appreciated. She just...well, she didn't trust it. Everyone had a secret to hide. Ultimately everyone wanted something. What was his angle?

Chastising herself, she set about foraging for a pizza pan and peeling back the wrapper on the pizza. It was a little freezer burned, covered in frost. But, according to the box, it was still within the expiration date. So what? He was a nice guy. Shouldn't that be a bonus? He was witty and funny. Definitely had it in the looks department. The sex was fantastic. And that he'd sought her out the next day...she should be flip dizzy, not skeptical, counting the teeth in the gift horse's mouth, so to speak. Could she really be so jaded that she didn't know a good thing when it fell into her lap? She flipped on the oven and set the timer. Aaaannnnndddd...now what? "Want something to drink?"

Robert hid a frown at Cindy's attempt to avoid conversation...hell to avoid any contact with him at all. In the bar she'd been so at ease, shooting the shit with customers and sliding drinks to them down the length of the bar. That she was more ill at ease in her own home gave him pause. Last night, seeing each other naked for the first time should have been awkward, or at lest waking up to one another the next morning should have been. But, the situation felt natural, almost comfortable as if they'd been together for years. Today, she was hustling about her narrow galley kitchen, turning this way and that way, foraging through first the fridge and then the cabinets in a fit of nervous energy. "Cindy, will you please sit down?"

She'd wanted him to come over. Taken his hand and walked out of the bar with him. Gave him a peck on the cheek when they parted ways to go to their cars. Drove slower than she needed to, constantly checking her rearview mirror to make sure he was behind her. What was going on? He clenched his hands into fists. He would not use his gift to find out. For once, he wanted to go it blind. He wanted to fumble his way through a relationship, just like everybody else did. "Thanks." Ice chinked in the glass he slid from her hand.

"Sorry," Cindy said, certain her smile was as lame as she felt. "I'm not used to having company around," she mumbled, cracking the top on a can of coke and pouring it into the two glasses. "I know a frozen pizza isn't much in the way of saying thanks. But, thanks for the help this evening, just the same."

Her hand rested on his glass. Perfectly shaped nails painted a pretty shade of pink wrapped around the base. He would not touch her. He would not sneak so much as a peek inside her mind. Whatever her nervousness, he'd wait patiently for her to tell him. "No big deal. I can't say I'm particularly fond of cobwebs. But, you're welcome." He purposely took the glass from her hand, gripping the rim to avoid even a casual brush of their fingers. "And frozen pizza is fine," he said with a wink. The coke was sweet on the tip of his tongue and fizzed in his mouth. He swallowed with a grateful gulp of sheer pleasure. The entire compound seemed focused on his health and well-being. Soft drinks were not allowed, along with junk food, alcohol, anything that might be considered "bad" for him. Anna had tried to ban caffeine all together. But, he'd put his foot down on that one. A man had to pick his battles and his had been his morning coffee. "Once in a while it's nice to eat with someone who can actually...ah..."

"Eat?"

"Yeah," he smiled. Cindy was still nervous, fiddling with her glass, tracing a trickle of sweat that ran down the side with a fingertip. At least she was sitting down, in a fidgety state of constant motion, but sitting.

Cindy leaned forward in her chair. Elbows resting on the checkered table cloth. She shouldn't ask. It wasn't any of her business. But, she had to know. "Tell me are you ever tempted?"

Robert swallowed another sip of coke and considered her question. Invasive. But, fair. "What? To go to the dark side?" Her head bobbed up and down and an embarrassed flush colored her cheeks. "Never. Don't get me wrong. There's something reassuring in knowing that Cole will never know the hell that is middle age. Stiff knees. Receding hairline. But, I wouldn't trade him places. I can't imagine what it's like."

"What?" Cindy found Robert's answer to her question intriguing. Obviously, he'd put a lot of thought into the possibility of signing up. He'd considered and despite what most people would have gladly traded, he'd chosen to remain just as he was. Human.

"This. Having dinner with you. Feeling the press of time and knowing that no matter how hard you try it's something you'll never out run. I think part of what makes us who we are is knowing that each day and each moment has to count because we get so few of them. The lucky ones, the really lucky ones, find someone special to spend it with."

Cindy reached across the narrowness of her two seater kitchen table and wrapped her fingers around Robert's hand. What he'd said moved her almost to the point of tears. He was willing to stay human, to accept his humanity and turn his back on the possibility of more, simply because he valued what it meant to him to be human. She was painfully aware of the passing of time. She saw it in every faint wrinkle and gray hair. Too many years had been wasted on jaded mistrust. "I hope your luck turns out good."

Robert did his best to block out the images tickling at the fringes of his mind. Cindy had had her share of bad relationships. The flashes came like flickering images on a movie screen. She'd been hurt. Badly. Her heart had taken all the damage it could take. She automatically shielded the fragile organ with carefully constructed layers of fierce independence, cynicism, and impenetrable reservations. She expected the worst and far too often was not disappointed. That she'd ever shared her bed with him. That she'd opened herself up to him at all was a miracle. She didn't trust him, and with good reason. He hadn't been completely honest with her.

Cindy blinked at the prickling sensation running along her spine. A few of the Sons could do that. Read her like an open book. She didn't like the feeling. Her secrets were her secrets and not open for public view. Anemia had little do with the real reason why she wasn't a donor. She'd never been able to open herself up fully enough to share her blood or her innermost thoughts with anyone. If no one ever got in, no one got hurt, primarily her. She slid her hand free of Robert's grasp. He was human. Anyone who had spent time with the vampires knew the difference. He was as ordinary as her. He had no inside link to her mind or the thoughts that dwelled within. She didn't believe it. No matter what the New Age mumbo-jumbo said to the contrary. People weren't gifted. But, the pitying expression on his face, made her begin to think differently.

The oven timer buzzed and the kitchen was filled with the aroma of baked cheese and steaming pepperoni. The moment stretched awkwardly between them. Cindy clutched her hands, holding them safely out of reach underneath the table. Searching Robert's face for answers, embarrassment and humiliation began to creep up her neck in hues of crimson. He stared at her, studying her expression. Finally, the timer, demanding attention, along with the acrid smell of burning crust won out. "Pizza is ready," she said redundantly, just to break the discomfort that had blossomed between them.

Robert blew out a breath and shook his hands, as if he could shake them free of Cindy's stolen memories. She fumbled with an oven mitt and took the pizza from the oven, cutting it with a series of over exaggerated, hasty motions. The pieces divvied up and slid onto a plate, she set one of the paper plates on the table in front of him and one where she'd been sitting. The pizza smelled like heaven, loaded with artery blocking cholesterol and the crust dark almost burnt just the way he liked it. He didn't have an appetite. Couldn't swallow past the lump in his throat or the glimmer of recognition on her face. She knew what he'd done. Somehow she'd felt it.

Cindy toyed with the piece of pizza on her plate. Already, the grease was beginning to congeal into a slick, orange blob. She'd been a little hungry when she'd popped it into the oven. But, not now, the lead ball in the pit of her stomach had stolen her appetite. Robert didn't move to take a bite either. He sat staring at the pizza. His attention focused on anything but her.

Robert didn't want to do this. He hadn't considered how he was going to break the news of his gift to her. But, this wasn't what he'd had in mind. His fingers clenched into a fist around his glass, the cold, wetness slick on his skin. Anger, old anger, at his supposed gift and his definite inability to control it surged to the surface. How many relationships had he lost or just simply given up on thanks to his gift? His ability had never done anything but bring him grief. He'd lost Jess because of it. He'd almost lost his son because of it. It'd forced him to move up into the mountains and live like a damned hermit for years.

Just when he was starting to get over his fear of his gift, beginning to live and to hope for something better, he could feel it all slipping away. To hell with it, he had been honest. His gift was a part of who he was. He sympathized with Cindy's string of broken relationships. He had plenty of his own to contemplate too. He was done hiding. Done wanting things he couldn't have. He'd tell her and let the chips fall where they landed. Either she'd accept him and his gift or she wouldn't.