Dawn's First Light

Roark stood in the hallway, beaming with pride at his accidental protégé. Angel truly was a ruthless little thing. And oh so hungry. He smelled the blood of her victim, but could still hear his heart beating on the other side of the door. He grasped the brass doorknob in his hand, turning it and splintering the lock with a hard jerk. It was time to bring her home. "Angel," he said as he entered. "My sweet Angel, come to papa."

Angel hissed and lifted her head from the man's throat. She sealed the wounds before they bled out and ruined her supper. The apartment was filled with the menace of Roark's presence. The bastard found her. But, she was hardly a victim, not any more. She had fangs of her own. And was damn pissed off at having her meal interrupted. He'd probably tracked her with the intention of killing her. Wasn't the joke going to be on him this time. She wasn't going back and she wasn't going to give him a chance to kill her. Straightening her skirt, she walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to greet her guest. "Roark."

"You've done very well. But, you've been very naughty. Leaving behind all those corpses for me to clean up." Roark lowered his arms to his sides. "Its time to take you home where you belong. I can teach you how to control your hunger. I can protect you from those who mean to do you harm."

He raised a brow at Angel's defensive stance. Why was it that every baby vampire held to the delusion that they were indestructible? She was no match for him. He could kill her so easily. Immortality was wasted on the immortal and she had no concept of how short her immortality would be if she refused him. He couldn't risk her calling further attention to herself. "Angel, come," he said softly and extended his hand to her.

"No." Angel shook her head vehemently. He was offering her all the things she so desperately needed. Much like he had when he'd found her on the streets, hungry, frightened, and pathetic. She wasn't that terrified little girl anymore. She didn't need him and wasn't going back to be his slave. "I don't think so."

"So certain are you? Do you know that the Sons are in town, searching for you right this very minute?" He shook his head in mocking. "It would be most unfortunate if they discovered you. You should be lucky I cared enough for you to find you first."

Angel bit her lip hesitantly. Roark didn't lie. He didn't need to. He bent the truth to suit his purposes. But, he never lied. If he said the Sons were looking for her. They were. What would happen to her if the brothers found her? Even she, as a human, had heard the stories of their brutality. Roark's offer for solace was tempting. But, she'd suffered as much as she ever would at his hands. She'd never kneel at another man's feet again. "I'll leave the city... go someplace else. They'll never find me."

"What about the other rogues that are out there? If the Sons don't get you, they will. Angel, love, you need me. Only I can protect you," Roark said as he moved slowly across the living room. He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her eyes up to meet his. "Your safety is my greatest concern. I take care of what is mine."

Angel trembled in fear as she looked up into his eyes. As a human, she hadn't seen him as he truly was. A raw energy flowed around him encircling him with threat and menace. His eyes were cold, hard, and brutal, piercing her to her very soul with a glance. She jerked away in terror. She had no doubt that he could kill her where she stood, if he wanted to. She might not live long enough to see what other dangers lurked beyond the city's boundaries. "What about Keene? He's out there on his own, surviving. Without you."

"You're a fool. He's one of them. A Son. He's probably leading the hunt. After all, who would know us better than he?" Roark bit back his rage at the mention of Keene's name and pasted a congenial, fatherly smile on his face. He would find the son of a bitch, and make him pay for his desertion. "Every moment we delay brings him closer to you."

"I don't believe you."

"You should," Keene said as he entered the room. His eyes narrowed, locking on Roark. He could not see the infant female partially hidden behind Roark's turned back. The familiarity of her voice turned his stomach and had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at full attention. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it, until he saw the proof with his own eyes.

"So, the turncoat returns," Roark growled. He released Angel's chin before he accidentally broke her neck in his fury. Rage flowed through him, pulsing in his veins like burning lava. Tucking Angel out of full view behind his back, he turned to face his nemesis. The man who stood before him possessed a quiet strength and confidence that hadn't been present before. Hard steel gray eyes pierced through his. This was not the man he'd controlled for over a century. This man was a new being, a Son. Powerful. Focused. Lethal.

Keene met Roark's eyes. He could not believe he'd let this man lord over him for over a century. With his vision fully cleared. He saw Roark for the man he was. So much of him made Roark the man the rogues perceived him to be. Roark's strength was his strength. Roark's power was his power. And the fear he'd felt since his first breath into this life, was Roark's. Without him, Roark was nothing.

Roark stepped to the side and pulled Angel in front of him. "Care to meet your replacement? She's something isn't she," he said, stroking her hair. "So perfect, unlike her predecessor."

"Angel?" Keene gasped in shock. The infant he most likely would be forced to kill was his Angel. Something within him snapped hand his hand went to his dagger, unleashing it from his belt. "You bastard," he hissed.

Roark threw his head back and laughed. "You think I made her? There are some rules even I must obey. I didn't create her. She created herself. You know the law. She must have a master or be disposed of. So tell me, Keene. Which will it be? Do you believe the Great Father will forgive her crimes? Or should you simply kill her now and save him the trouble?"

Hot tears rolled down Angel's cheeks at the news of her impending death. The Sons didn't give second chances. She was a murder, a violator of their laws. And Roark was right and the Sons were here to kill her. "Keene? Are you going to kill me?"

"Get her the hell out of here!" Keene ordered Patrick. His hand itched to release the blade clutched in his fist and bury it deep into Roark's chest. The bastard was right in what he'd said. Angel had to have a master. She was too vulnerable to be left out in the world alone. Her tears shattered his heart and broke his restraint. He lunged at Roark with a fury he never knew he possessed. The man anticipated his move and dodged out of the way, narrowly missing Keene's fist.

"Yes, she shouldn't have to see this. She was quite fond of you, Keene." Roark circled Keene counterclockwise, studying him intently. Everyone had a weakness. He just needed to Keene's and exploit it to his advantage. He sniffed the air. Keene's scent was musky and earthy, smelling of fresh pine on a winter's morning. Nauseating. There was something else though. A faint, sugary essence, slightly floral and feminine clung to Keene's skin. A female. Well, well... that was something Roark could use for later. A human female, definitely something he could sink his teeth into and would as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

The scent of a second female tickled his nostrils. This one Roark recognized immediately It was sweet, smelling of bubble gum and youth, Kayla. So, the bitch had run to Keene to warn him. Roark vowed to take care of her too, as soon as he was finished with Keene. Crouching down, his hand drifted to the hilt of the dagger he kept cinched at his waist for such an occasion.

Angel wasn't choosing sides, she was a free agent and would go where ever and with whom ever she wanted. But, she wasn't above saving her own skin and getting out of the line of fire. She bolted across the room and hid behind the brother blocking the doorway with his body.

Patrick's muscles tensed, ready to jump in and lend his brother a hand if things got ugly. To hell with the consequences, he certainly didn't owe anything but punishment to the rogues or their damnable master. He unsheathed his dagger, ready to defend Keene. But, stood to the side, at the ready. Each man had his own battles to fight. And he would not take Keene's away from him.

"Shit!" John Mark hissed. An array of scents hit his nostrils as soon as he entered the opulent apartment building. It seemed that his luck had not held out and an ugly situation was about to unfold. Keene and Roark in the same place at the same time...not good. The two men would likely kill one another and tear through the brothers to do it. Humans lived here in the luxury of pretend safety only the rich could afford. This situation could bypass FUBAR and go straight to uber FUBAR in a hurry. And there might not be anything he could do to stop it. He bounded up the gilded staircase with Bryce tight on his heels.

He skidded to a stop as he came to the splintered apartment door and snatched the quivering female out of the line of fire, handing her off to Bryce before she got the bright idea to bolt and they had to chase her down. Again. The air crackled with unleashed power, enough so that he shivered all the way down to the shit kicker boots on his feet. John Mark edged around Patrick and climbed over the mess someone had made of the front door. Roark and Keene circled one another, engaged in a dance that threatened to go nuclear at any second. Wonderful. His negotiation skills sucked. And if he had his way, he wouldn't bother to try. But, he had big enough problems on his hands with trying to get the four of them, especially Keene, out of here alive. "I don't think this is the place or the time for a fight. Roark, you're outnumbered. Do you really want to die today?"

Roark kept his eyes pinned on Keene. Power from the man rolled over his skin in a cold wake. The scent of his fury hung thickly in the air. The vampire's lust for vengeance made him dangerous. When Keene struck, he'd be lightening fast and lethal. "I'm not planning on it."

Keene hissed. He was ready to take on the Rogue Master. Fight him to the death and into the pits of hell. He focused on the blade clutched in Roark's right hand. Roark was dangerous with a blade, furious and quick as the blink of an eye. His former master's power rolled over him in waves, choking him with its cold, black evil. Roark was weak. Keene could sense it. This raw energy didn't come from Roark but from some deep, dark place inside of him. And it threatened to devour the both of them and everything else that got in its path. "Nor am I."

Determined to avoid a fight, John Mark positioned himself in between the two men. He clutched his drawn dagger. Ready to do whatever was necessary to stop the fight. He would die to protect his brother. But, he couldn't risk humans in the apartment building discovering their secret. Even the life of a brother came second to protecting the secret that bound every rogue, every stray, and every Son. The humans could not know about the world that existed along side theirs.

He called on the power rippling inside of him. There were secrets among the brotherhood that not even Keene knew about. If he had, he would have used it to tear Roark to shreds. Which was why John Mark hadn't shared it with the man, yet. The lives of the brothers were bound to one another and to their goddess. And in that golden thread that united their lives, was the true source of their strength. "No one dies today. Save it for another time and place."

Roark chuckled lowly under his breath. "Out of the mouths of babes." The energy channeling out of the brotherhood's second stung his skin and pricked him to the very core. Stirring up a memory he'd rather forget. The blonde bitch had almost killed him. And the second standing between Keene and him had but a fraction of what she'd unleashed that night. But, it was enough to give him pause. One law bound each and every vampire on the planet. And it was a law that nobody dared to break, unless you wanted to die. Of course, the sniveling Son was right, the chances of discovery were too great. And he was dangerously out numbered. He tipped his dagger in salute to Keene. "Another time then." With a low, dangerous growl, he hissed. "This is far from over."

"Agreed," Keene replied with a bow. His eyes never left the Rogue Master's hard glare. Roark was right. The two of them were far from finished. He mimicked Roark's gesture and holstered his dagger. The power radiating off John Mark retreated from his skin and seeped from the room. Keene raised a brow at his mentor and dipped his head. One day, John Mark wouldn't be there to intervene. And that was the day he'd kill his former master.

"Angel," Roark said gently as a father, extending his hand. "Come. Its time to go home."

Angel bit her bottom lip in indecision. It was too dangerous for her to be on her own. The Sons were just as relentless as Roark. She'd never be safe and never know peace from either of them. They'd hunt her down. There was no place left for her to run. She had two options. Join Roark or surrender to the brotherhood. The vampire holding her back loosened his grip on her arm. She twisted free and moved in between the two men. She didn't know what to do or who to choose.

"Angel, you can come with us," Keene said softly. "You don't have to be a killer." He stepped forward and reached out to gently take her trembling hand in his. "I'm sorry I failed you. I promise you, I'll never fail again to keep you safe. Never. Please, Angel."

Angel kept her eyes focused on the carpet and withdrew her hand from Keene's. She knew what she was. And as tempting as his offer for safety and protection might be, if the brothers decided she wasn't worth saving, there wasn't anything Keene could do to help her. She knew him too well. Keene did nothing while Roark tortured her night after night. He hadn't kept her safe. And in the end his loyalty would win over any sense of duty he might feel to her. He was a Son. And if they ordered her death, he'd do nothing to stop it.

Her odds weren't much better with Roark. But, at least with him, she knew her place in the order of things. She wouldn't have to pretend to be anything other than what she was. A killer. He would never try to reform her or save what was left of her fractured soul. Inside of her lived a beast she scarcely understood. It was a terrifying and seductive and it frightened her more than the thought of her death. Roark would help her to cultivate the darkness. Keene would never accept it or her. He would try everything to subdue the beast. And she'd always be weak and helpless, forever a victim. She winced against the expression of pain on Keene's face as she placed her hand in Roark's. "He's all I know."

"Come," Roark said softly. Angel was still too human and too easily swayed. A condition he would soon remedy. Under his careful guidance she would become a ruthless and heartless killer and her fragile humanity forgotten. He shot Keene a last menacing glare as he guided Angel from the room.

Keene watched Roark lead Angel from the apartment. He'd failed to protect her again. Her choice cut like a dagger through his soul. She trusted Roark more than she trusted him. Angel was on a collision course with her own destruction. And her decision made them enemies. He couldn't protect her any more. And in that was his ultimate failure. Maybe in time, she'd come to realize that Roark had sold her a spoiled, rotten bill of goods and she'd discover there was a better way. He hoped the part of her that made her human was still there inside of her and Roark wouldn't completely destroy it.

"Damn," John Mark whispered under his breath. He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, lost in contemplation. He knew the brotherhood hadn't seen the last of the rogue or of her master, Roark. "Clean up this mess and let's go home."

Chapter 36

Lori paced the kitchen searching for something else to clean. She'd already scrubbed the sink and countertops to a brilliant shine. The floor was spotless. Hell, she'd even scoured the inside of the trashcan. She was desperate for something to do to keep her mind off Keene. So, she cleaned the already immaculate kitchen to pass the time. If he didn't come home soon, she'd be scrubbing the hallways and possibly anything and anyone else that stayed in place long enough. There was something calming and therapeutic about the mindless labor of scrubbing things clean. She guessed, it was her way of maintaining a small bit of order in a very messy universe.

She'd awakened several times during the night, sweating and shaking in terror from the recurring nightmare. After that, she'd given up on sleep altogether and searched for something to do. Vampires were nocturnal by nature. Even though it was the wee hours of the morning and night had yet to release its dark hold over the world. The compound was eerily silent as a tomb.

She sensed in some deep part of her that Keene was in danger. Cleaning helped and she was feeling better now. But, she was still worried out of her mind about him. He was a powerful vampire equipped with a lethal set of fangs. Nothing bad was going to happen to him. He was too smart for that. And she was letting her imagination get the better of her. It was stupid really. Keene was fine. In a few hours she'd see. He'd come home safe and sound and she'd feel like a complete idiot for worrying over nothing.

Maybe, this was how it was for countless other women in love. Not every occupation was safe. There were all sorts of dangerous lines of work. Police. Fireman. Paramedic. And every night women sent their men out into the world with a kiss and a prayer for their safe return in the morning. How did they do it, Lori wondered. She felt so useless and so helpless, holed up down here in the compound with nothing to do but wait.

Lori had a new respect for Janine. How many times had she kissed Patrick goodbye as he headed out on some mission while she was forced to stay behind and keep the home fires burning. The not knowing was the worst part, far worse than the waiting.

Annoyed with herself, she put on a pot of coffee and rubbed her eyes. Today was going to be a full day with class in the morning and working at the shop till close. She should forget this ridiculousness and go to bed. It was no use though. She was one of those people that once they were awake they were awake. And she doubted she'd sleep one wink until she knew for certain that Keene was safe.

Janine padded into the kitchen, clad in her nightgown and robe. She hadn't slept at all. The nights when Patrick was away on some mission were always like this for her. She had come to the conclusion that she was just going to have to get used to it. The Sons were his life and she couldn't and wouldn't demand that he turn his back on his brothers and his sense of duty just to make her happy. She had to learn to get herself together better than this. Worry gave you wrinkles. And she did not want to add any more of them to the dozen or so she already had. In a few years...well, she didn't want to think about what she'd look like in a few years.

Janine gravitated toward the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the kitchen with its heavenly scent and poured herself a cup. Alex was a godsend and must have made the pot in anticipation that her still very human BFF would need it. And she did...desperately. Sighing deeply, Janine lifted the mug to her nose and inhaled the rich fragrance of the finely ground, imported beans Anna insisted upon. Janine had tried to reassure the woman that the store brands were fine. But, Anna refused to disgrace her kitchen and the three hundred dollar coffee maker on the counter with anything but premium blends. For a bunch of vampires that couldn't ingest one drop of the stuff, they sure as hell had their opinions about coffee.