Dawn's First Light

Dane met Keene and led him to the center. Bowing low, he approached the Great Father and the Prophet. There were very few secrets in the brotherhood. But, these two men were the greatest mystery of them all. They knew things nobody else knew. Saw what no one else had ever seen. They'd looked beyond the shadow world of spirit and straight into the soul of eternity. No one knew what really waited on the other side when they died. But, the two brothers did. "I present this man for membership."

The Great Father looked down at Keene and bowed respectfully. Keene was still dressed for battle, painted for war. He had fought well and deserved a position amongst the brothers. Sometimes, it took a man a long, long time to finally catch up with his destiny. And oddly enough, the Great Father owed Roark for delivering Keene to his. Time would have stolen him away if Roark hadn't intervened. And Keen would not be the man he was today without him. "Is he worthy? Brother, examine his heart."

The smaller brother, the one known as the Prophet, stepped forward and brushed a hand across Keene's temple. Keene shuddered at the invasion, feeling his very soul laid bare for examination. Every deed he'd ever done. Every thought he'd ever thought. Exposed. Keene threw up his mental shields and they shattered into bits. He could hide nothing. His past flooded, drowning him in its current. The Prophet, with his fingers on Keene's temple and his eyes closed saw everything. After a thorough analysis of Keene's innermost being, he opened his eyes and bowed. "He is worthy."

The Great Father took Keene's right arm, pinning it to his side. The Prophet did the same, trapping Keene's left arm with his strong fingers. Keene had never been powerless since his birth into this world and he bucked at the unwelcome sensation of helplessness in their grip. "Let him be one of us," the Great Father said, as he knelt in, unsheathing his fangs.

Keene resisted the urge to fight. Clamping down his sense of self-preservation as twin sets of fangs pierced both sides of his neck drawing out his life force in painful swallows. The pain was excruciating. As a vampire it took longer for him to succumb to the draw of his blood. He felt every agonizing minute of his second death. His vision wavered as the brothers drank, draining him. Weak knees barely supported his weight. Leaning heavily on the brothers, he struggled to remain on his feet as the last bit of his life was siphoned out of him.

"Be one with us. Bind yourself to your brothers. Share in our strength." The Great Father bit into his flesh, releasing his blood and his power. Keene sagged in their grip and even fueled by the potent blood, it was all the two brothers could do to hold the vampire's massive bulk upright.

A sweet smelling moisture trickled across Keene's lips. The predator in him roused and instinctively latched on, drinking deeply of the heady, decadent, intoxicating substance. Power surged through him, jolting him back to life. Desperate to live, he grappled for more.

"Partake in the Goddesses wisdom and the gifts from our ancestors." Another wrist replaced the first one. The blood ripped through Keene, gripping him in its icy cold power. Time had a way of erasing traumatic memories and he'd forgotten the terrible agony of the transformation. Keene fell to the ground, grappling with the dewy shoots of grass, writhing and gasping in the frigid embrace of long forgotten torture.

After Keene had suffered the worst of his agony, he struggled to his feet. Even in the jolts of pain still assaulting his limbs, there was a lightness to him that had not been present before. He was free from Roark. The angry voice that had shouted in his mind for over a century was replaced with the gentle hum of many voices, whispering softly in a synchronous song of unity.

Dazed and overwhelmed, confused by the soothing calm of so many hearts beating as one, Keene leaned heavily on John Mark for support. Stretched over the rough surface of a stump, Keene waited to receive his mark on the bare canvas of his back. He was a brother. A warrior. Part of the whole. And yet, still a unique, sentient being. And the past he'd damned him self for had no more hold over him. Laughing as the Shaman pressed the first stab of the inked needle into his skin, Keene reveled in the freedom of belonging.

******

Roark hissed as the contact with Keene's mind was suddenly severed. He couldn't help but wonder for a fleeting second if the man was dead. If Keene was, he should consider himself very fortunate. But, Roark had no sense of Keene's death. He knew exactly what had become of his former second. Keene had joined the Sons, severing the link between them forever by taking the blood of the Great Father and the Prophet into his body. No matter how carefully hidden, the darkness still knew its own kin. And Keene was still a part of it. The man would come to him. And when he did, he would still die.

******

Kayla stood on the outer fringes of the group, marveling in wonder at what she'd witnessed. These were deeply spiritual people, pinning all their faith on an imaginary goddess and one man who claimed to be the founder of their race. It befuddled her mind. But, religion always had. She had no one, real or imaginary, that she could trust. And, she had not a single shred of belief in things that she could not see. Religion was a dangerous trap and putting all your faith in one man was fatal. Roark had taught her that.

After the ceremony, Bryce loped over to Kayla, tugging her toward the fire to dance with the brothers. There wasn't much time to celebrate. Once Keene received his mark and had replenished his strength, they were leaving on the mission. Kayla looked so out of place, standing off to the fringe with her arms crossed over her chest and a perplexed expression on her face. He'd never considered how strange his world must look to an outsider. And he wanted to help her fit in. Maybe, if he could make her happy, she'd want to stay. "Come on, you don't want to miss out," he said, dragging her toward the circle of undulating bodies.

Kayla's feet remained firmly planted. "No, I don't know how to dance."

"You don't have to. Just do whatever comes. The steps aren't important. Its what is in here that counts," he said, pointing a finger to her heart. "Just try it. Let go and do whatever you feel like doing."

"I am," Kayla said defiantly. She didn't want to make a fool out of herself, tripping over her feet and stumbling around like an idiot. Hell, she might fall head first into the fire, knowing her luck. The brothers danced gracefully and rhythmically, blending in with the melodic chanting. "I can't dance like that."

"Sure you can." Bryce scooped Kayla up and carried her into the melee of the celebration. "I'll help you." He held her in his arms, twisting and dipping, spinning her in time to the drum beats and chants in the sprit with the festivities. If she'd just relax, she'd have a lot more fun. And see there was more to his world than fangs, blood, and pain.

"Do you always get your way?" Kayla asked. Closing her eyes against the dizzying sensations building in the pit of her stomach. If he didn't stop soon, she feared that she would heave her dinner all over him. "Put me down," she insisted.

"Only if you'll stay and dance." He moved faster to the beat, grinning as she tightened her hold around his neck and pressed their chests together. He added his voice to the melody as he spun her wildly in circles.

"Ok, ok! I'll stay. Bryce, I mean it. If you don't stop it, I'm going to barf all over you." Kayla rested her whirling head on his chest, trying her very best to ignore the growing wave of nausea and the bile rising in her throat. She hated having her feet off the ground. She'd never been one for amusement parks and thrill seeking rides.

Bryce abruptly stopped and gently set her on her feet. He didn't want to let go of her. But, he also didn't want to wear what she'd had for dinner. He snickered, looking down at Kayla. She did appear to be a little green and peaked. He grabbed her waist and settled her against his body until she stopped weaving. "Better?"

Kayla nodded. "Much." The bare skin of his chest was warm against her body. She felt its rock hardness and longed to trace a path along the well-defined muscles with her fingertips. Gingerly, she placed a palm on his chest. It was every bit as nice, smooth and firm, as she'd imagined. Closing her eyes, she ran her hand along the dip in his pecks smoothing her palm down the hard ridge of his breastbone. There was an unfamiliar prickle deep in her stomach. But, it had nothing to do with her bout of nausea. It was the prickle of unwelcome desire, flaring to life beneath the trail of sensation traveling up her arm from the contact of her fingers against his skin.

Bryce scooted Kayla in closer to him and nuzzled her hair. "I wasn't feeling bad before, but I'm feeling much better now," he said softly. She smelled like the sky after a rainstorm, fresh and pure, renewed. "But, this loincloth doesn't hide much and if you don't stop, I'm going to have a big problem."

The deep, husky rasp of his voice made Kayla's toes curl in her sandals. The nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach spread throughout her body. His breath was hot against her skin as he scraped a fully extended fang across the tender skin at the base of her ear. Kayla took a shaky breath and steadied her self. "Surely, it's not that big of a problem," she said in an attempt to ease the intensity building between them.

Bryce leaned heavily into her, pressing his pelvis against the hard, bony, rim of her hipbone. "You tell me." The subtle contact between their bodies, made him stiffen with desire for her. The sudden rushing of her heartbeat and heat of her skin was unmistakable. She could push him away all that she wanted to. But, her reaction hinted that she felt the same way for him.

Kayla sucked in a breath as her heart beat like a rapidly pounding drum in her chest. "That's a sizable problem. But, it's nothing that can't be handled." Her voice was soft almost purring as she answered. The way he looked at her made her want to melt. His pupils were round and full, dilated by sheer, masculine, desire. His fangs, long, white, and dangerously razor sharp glimmered in the moonlight. He was aroused. And his fangs extended in response to the physiological stimulus of the contact of their bodies. He was tempting, very tempting, and very hard to resist. She shivered beneath the fierceness of his stare and backed as far away from him as his arms, circled around her shoulders would allow.

Bryce hissed low, burning with passion. "Are you offering?" he asked, encircling her hip with his arm and pulling her against his body. The musky scent of her desire permeated the air, creating a heady perfume that he wished he could bottle for the lonely nights in his future. He inhaled trapping the sweet fragrance deep in his nostrils. He was pushing his luck with her. It was just a matter of time before she twisted out of his arms and he was forced to helplessly watch her retreat yet again.

Kayla pressed her palms against Bryce's chest. As tempted as she might be, she wasn't extending an invitation to him. Realization struck her and she blinked in shock. For the first time in a very long time, she had the right to say no. He wasn't Roark. Bryce wouldn't take her by force or make her do anything that she didn't want to do. He wouldn't leave her crying in the dark, alone and filled with self-loathing after he took what he wanted from her. She didn't have to hate herself for responding to the heat of his desire. Bryce would never harm her. But, the wounds of her past were still too raw and painful. And, a long way from healing, if they ever did. She stiffened in his arms and looked away to hide her tears. Withdrawing, she walked to the outermost edge of the party, searching for a dark place to hide and regroup her thoughts.

"Shit," Bryce muttered. He stood helpless as she ran as far away as she could from him. She was suffering, still held captive by Roark in so many ways. He could only guess at the things the bastard had forced her do and at the liberties he'd taken with her body and her soul. To him, she'd been only a thing, a possession. Humans were disposable, like paper cups, used for a purpose and then tossed away.

Kayla would need plenty of time to heal. Time to realize that she had value beyond her looks and her body. She needed to understand that Roark had no hold on her, not any longer. The only power that he had over her was the power that she gave him. The only way he could hurt her now was the pain she inflicted on herself, in her own mind. After giving Kayla a few minutes of privacy to regain her composure, Bryce approached her. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Timidly, Kayla took Bryce's hand reassured by the warmth and gentleness of his touch. A part of her was still very afraid, not of him, but of everything. The world was a very big place and she felt small, so very small. Brushing the sleeve of her shirt over her cheek, she wiped at a wayward tear. Silently, thanking Bryce for pretending not to notice. She smiled at the reassuring squeeze of his hand and walked beside him as he led her into the darkness.

Chapter 31

Lori smiled widely and jumped into Keene's eagerly awaiting arms. He was a warrior, fully inducted and marked, a member of the brotherhood. "You did it!" She squealed excitedly giggling as he spun her around. Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, she cupped his face in her hands.

Now that his hair was growing out and his silver eyes were free from the strain of his past life, he possessed a definite measure of boyish charm. But, the look was deceiving. Keene would always be a very dangerous man. One whose path those meaning to do him or any of his friends harm would be foolish to cross. "I'm so proud of you," she said as he gently lowered her to the ground.

Keene knelt low and claimed her mouth in an urgent kiss. She was his reason for fighting to win his freedom. The way she looked at him. The love reflected in her eyes redeemed him, made him whole, and erased the horror of his past. He wanted nothing more than to slip away and spend the night in her arms to celebrate. But, duty was pressing down on him. He was due to head out on his first assignment in little over an hour. "Lori, I can't stay with you tonight."

"Why not?" she asked in a voice that embarrassingly bordered on a pout. She'd been looking forward to another marathon sex session all day. She was just discovering the woman within and having a heck of a great time doing it. She couldn't help but feel a tug of disappointment.

"I have to go to the city, on assignment. Two bodies were found in an alley and Dane wants us to check it out." Keene encircled Lori's shoulders with his big arm and pulled her close, leading her down the trail to the compound to steal a few moments of privacy. He needed to shower and don the new gear waiting for him in his closet.

"But, you've already gone through so much today. You're exhausted," Lori protested. "Can't Dane send someone else?"

"No one knows the rogues better than I do."

"Rogues?" Lori stiffened, realizing the danger that Keene was willingly placing himself in. She walked with him through the dark woods tucked safely under his protective arm. She was so clumsy compared to him, stumbling and tipping over unseen obstacles along the path. But, he was there, steadying her every time she'd falter.

"That's what Dane suspects. And I have to agree with him." Keene guided Lori through the twisting hallways and to his private rooms. Opening the door for her in a gentlemanly gesture, he ushered her inside, turning the lock behind them.

Lori took in the comfortable but stark surroundings. There was nothing personal to his rooms, nothing of him. The décor was plush and more than adequate. Varying shades of blue stood out in contrast to the intensely bland, neutral carpet and wall coloring. This was simply a place that he hung his hat and that was all. Too much like a hotel room, boring and impersonal. "Nice place," she said, flopping on the bed.

"You don't like it?" Keene asked, reading her expression. He didn't get it. What was not to like? The room had a comfortable bed and a shower. What else did he need?

Lori shrugged. The bond he had with her made it impossible for her to fib to him, even if she did it to spare his feelings. He could read her emotions through his link with her blood. She sat up on the bed as he turned his back to her, walking into the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day and prepare for his trek to the city. She sucked in a breath, beholding the intricate swirling indigo patterns of the tattoo scrolling across the massive expanse of his back. The markings were beautiful. "Wow." She hopped up and reached out to touch the patterns.

Keene sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth. As wonderful as her touch felt against his throbbing skin, the tattoo was still tender and sensitive. His muscles rippled as she placed her warm, moist lips against the markings on his back. He moaned as pain combined with pleasure and he grew rigid. Gently wrapping his fingers around her tiny wrist, pulling her tightly against his back. "Careful." He warned. The pulsations of his groin quickly took his mind off the tenderness of the tattoo. But, not off his obligation to his brothers. "I need to get a shower."

"I could wash your back," Lori said softly. Twisting her wrist free and running her hand down his hard abdomen and skimming across the expanding leather of his loincloth.

Keene chuckled, "That's not my back."

"Oh, my mistake," Lori teased sliding her fingers down the front of the skimpy garment, smoothing them over the rough tangle of his pubic hair. She sighed with longing as she gently toyed with the bulging tip of his erection. She gasped as he spun her around and planted a firm, demanding kiss on her lips. She opened up, granting him full access.

Her mouth was sweet, soft and responsive to the caresses of his tongue. He could kiss her for the rest of his existence and never grow weary of her. His hands trailed down her back and found the loose edge of her summer print blouse. Gathering it up, he felt the softness of her bare skin against his palms. Her moan of pleasure against his lips had him breathing heavily. Running his hands along her ribcage he palmed her breasts. The peaks rose up firm with need.

He groaned as she arched her back pressing more of her body into his hands. He had to get ready. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't rush it. He wouldn't. With her, he wanted to take his time. Pleasure her thoroughly and completely every time. He wanted time to hold her happily sated body in his arms afterwards. Her passions were a treasure to be enjoyed, not to be hurried through. Gathering his resolve he broke the kiss. "You are more dangerous than any rogue," he whispered against the soft shell of her ear.

Lori sighed and snuggled against Keene, marveling at the way their bodies fit together so perfectly. "Who me?" she asked, as she rocked her hip against his swollen groin teasing him.

Grasping her shoulders firmly but gently, he guided her back to the bed. "The worst form of torture I've ever endured," he teased, bending to peck her on the cheek.

"I could end your suffering," she said, turning her head and kissing him softly on the lips. In five minutes, they'd both feel a lot better. Of that, she was certain.

He took a deep breath and grunted. "I'll endure it, for now." He shot her a pointed look and raised an eyebrow. The minute he returned, he'd claim his prize and many, many more.

Lori curled up in the center of the big bed and waited for Keene to finish showering. Steam and the scent of masculine soap wafted out of the bathroom engulfing the small room. She couldn't help but worry about him. About what he'd face on assignment and the danger he'd be in once he got to the city. She watched as he emerged from the rolling white clouds with a towel draped tightly across his hips. "Keene, promise me something," she said. gnawing on her bottom lip nervously.