Dawn's Innocence

Grant hadn't expected the offer of a bail out to come from Tala. Mostly they kept a casual distance from one another. Everyone had made their peace with one another and settled into cool congeniality. Tala had almost killed him when the first bout of vampire hunger took her under siege. He would have willingly offered her every drop to make up for all the pain he'd caused. Drew had saved his life when by all rights he could have let him die instead.

Tala would never understand why he had done what he'd done. She didn't stop to consider that he saw Nash as his father too. Nash had taken his father's place when his father had followed his mother into the beyond. He called Hunter brother and Nash father, the same as Tala did. At the time, Grant had believed he was in love with Tala. He'd wanted her so badly and striking out in desperation at their father seemed the only way to win her heart. It'd taken him a long time to find his way back home and even longer to process his guilt. There was a difference between forgiving and forgetting and he'd had to do both to move forward and get where he was now.

Tala was regal, slight, curvy, and every bit as beautiful as ever. She dressed like a peasant when indeed she was a queen. The jeans hugging her frame and the purple sweatshirt bagging over her shoulders did nothing to hide her royalty. She was Queen Mother to both races and second only to her husband, the Great Father, the Great White Wolf, and her word was as good as law. She was crouched over, her braid, the thick, luxurious length of waist length hair dangling precariously close to G.T's reach. "Tala, you might want to step back before he slimes you."

Grant needed help whether he admitted to it or not. He had sticky globs of banana stuck in his shoulder length hair and the most pathetic 'man in distress' expression on his face. Claire had made a changed man out of Grant. He was at peace, happy, and content for the first time in his life. Love tended to tame the beast. But, Grant was fierce as any male beneath the thin veneer of his domesticity. She planted a hand on her hip and slung her braid over her shoulder out of G.T's reach, pinning Grant with a hard look.

Grant pried his hair out of his son's slimy banana covered fists and frowned at the sticky mess. Fine. Maybe Tala could get the kid to eat. He got up from the stool and handed off the gooey spoon. "Go for it. I can't get him to do anything for me. Claire is never going to forgive me if I let our son starve to death."

"Oh," Tala pooh-poohed. "Grant, he is not going to starve." She crouched down and tugged on GT's pudgy toes. "Are you big boy?" She made the necessary coo's and ooh's and funny faces to coax a slobbery, wide grin on GT's chubby cheeks. "That's a boy. Open up for Auntie Tala." She shoved a spoonful of banana into his mouth and miracle of miracles, he swallowed it down and opened for another bite.

Grant scrubbed the banana out of his hair and snickered at Tala. She had the kid eating out of the palm of her hand or at least out of the spoon. "Want to baby sit?"

"Grant, are you afraid of a little baby?" Tala teased.

"Petrified."

"Go ahead and I'll sit with GT for a while." Tala smiled as she eased GT out of the highchair and held him in her arms. She couldn't begin to describe the emotions flooding her from holding a baby. G.T. was something special. He was half-human half-wolf, a mix of both Claire and Grant. He settled, wrapping his sticky fingers around the collar of her sweatshirt. She patted his diapered butt and cooed at him. He blew spit bubbles and kicked his chubby legs. She winked at Grant and couldn't begin to hide her smile. "It'll be our secret."

Why was it that G.T. liked everyone except for him? The instant he picked G.T. up, the kid wailed like a fire engine. The only time his son tolerated him at all was when he had a poopy diaper and there was nobody else around to change it. Sure, he was petrified of his son. Not of him, but of what might happen to him while he was under his care. Maybe, like the stories people always told, he would drop him on his head by accident. For now, G.T was quiet and contained, slobbering happily all over the neckline of Tala's sweatshirt and making a grubby mess of her.

Grant exhaled a grateful sigh and left GT in the most capable arms he knew of, besides Claire's. Tala would die to protect his son. She sure as hell wouldn't fuck up and drop him on his head, like Grant feared he would do. "Thanks. I'm going to wash breakfast out of my hair and take a quick walk."

"Take your time. G.T. and I are just fine." Tala rocked GT in her arms as Grant beat feet for the stairs. She rocked him back and forth in her arms, resting his sweet smelling, fuzzy, black down covered head on her shoulder. Soon, GT was fast asleep. Dozing fitfully with banana drying on his chubby cheeks. She'd clean him up later, before Grant took over and Claire came home from work. For now, holding him was enough. Someday, maybe if she were as blessed as Grant and Claire, she'd be holding a baby of her own.

Chapter 41

Drew hated doctors and anything having to do with the medical field in general. He paced the sterile five by nine room. The walls were a pale beige the shade of nothing. The exam table was upholstered in a soft, blue, durable and washable vinyl material and covered in crinkly paper. The place, the entire hospital had the chemically smell of strong disinfectants and cleaners. The floor beneath his combat boots was polished to a gleaming white glossy sheen. There was a little chair tucked into the corner of the postage stamp sized room. Closed blinds filtered the watery daylight, protecting the room from prying eyes.

Shuffling to the left, he skimmed the patient education propaganda thumb tacked to the walls. He knew more about his prostate, bone loss, and what Lipitor could do for him than what he'd ever cared to know. The small room and the closed door leading out into a sterile corridor with the same gleaming white floors and beige walls as the room was claustrophobic. There wasn't a draft of fresh air in the whole damn hospital. People flocked here to treat their various aliments. To him, this was a place of disease and death and it reeked with the stink of both.

He could have caught Thomas at the compound. Doctor/patient confidentiality prevented Thomas from breathing a word of anything they discussed. Drew hadn't wanted anyone, especially Tala, to know why he wanted to have a private convo with the good doctor. He was nervous as hell and the people, their response to him as he'd stormed past them in the hallways and been neatly deposited into an exam room by a nurse far too wary of him hadn't helped.

He was a big son of a bitch, six foot seven inches and two hundred and forty pounds of pure menace decked out in black jeans, a black leather jacket, and black shitkickers. The fact that he was armed beneath the denim and leather, not that anyone knew it, probably wouldn't bode well with hospital security. The name he'd used a non-descript completely ordinary, forgettable name...John Smith...and that he'd failed to produce an insurance card when asked had earned him the stank eye from the ER receptionist. She hadn't bought that he had a cold as the reason for his visit either. Men like him didn't go to the hospital unless they were wheeled in on a gurney or hauled straight to the morgue in a body bag.

Thomas finished his lunch. The ER was slow today. That was ok. Made up for last week, which had been a complete bitch. The staff was taking advantage of the ho hums, twiddling thumbs, and resting up for the next round of not so lucky contestants to show. He had a patient waiting for him in exam room four. Sore throat and cold symptoms...afebrile and probably healthy as a horse, it could wait until finished gnawing through his tuna on rye.

John Smith, not a name he knew. Thomas wiped the crumbs from his sandwich off the lapels of his lab jacket and chewed on a mint. Tuna breath wasn't good for public relations and the hospital was all about image these days. This was going to be a quick, hi how are ya, throat swab, peek at the tonsils, and see ya later song and dance, a simple treat and street routine. Thomas's nerve endings tingled and he got that itchy hairs standing up on the back of his neck jolt he got whenever a brother was around. Funny, it was the middle of the day and the brothers avoided daylight the way a Chevy man avoided the Ford dealership.

Thomas opened the door to the exam room and stood there in shock at exactly who his patient, Mr. Smith, was. "Great Father, what can I do for you?" He listened as Drew explained the reason for his friendly visit and wished the man had picked someone else's ER to doorstep to darken. Fertility was not Thomas's area of expertise. And oh boy, how in the hell was he going to explain the birds and the bees to a vampire over two hundred years old. He fished through the cabinets and found what he was looking for. Nervously, handing the specimen cup over to the founder of the brotherhood, he assumed Drew would get what it was for.

Drew took the specimen cup in the crinkly plastic wrapper. Thank the goddess Thomas hadn't asked to inspect his man junk. There were some things that were too sacred and having the good doctor hairy eyeball his goods was one of them. Drew eyed the cup and flicked his gaze to Thomas. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Thomas blushed furiously red. "You um... I need you to...well, you know...in the cup." He needed a specimen of the jiz variety. Drew wanted to know if his little swimmers were up to the task of doing their job and making a little Drew or Tala. There was only one way to do that. And that was to look at the goods under the microscope.

He needed a specimen fresh from the tap and wasn't that something he'd rather not think about. If Drew had been an ordinary patient, Thomas would have snapped on a pair of latex gloves and performed an exam. Wasn't happening, professional physician to the paranormal or not. He wasn't putting an eye or a finger, gloved or otherwise on the Great Father's private parts.

"Now?" Drew held the plastic wrapper covering the specimen cup with two fingers as if it were a snake. How in the hell was he supposed to give Thomas what he claimed he needed? Here? Every pump needed a little priming and there was nothing remotely sexual about the sterile exam room.

Thomas nodded. "I need a fresh specimen, if we're going to see...well, I need to know if your sperm have motility or not...if they swim upstream." Clearing his throat, he made a hasty retreat from the room. "I'll be outside...just open the door when you're ah...finished."

Closed up in the exam room, Drew gritted his molars and unwrapped the plastic. The cup jeered at him, daring him to fill it with the goods. He wasn't certain he could. Anything for Tala, he reminded himself. She wanted a baby. He was so hesitant. He didn't want to get her hopes up or his. He needed to know just as much for himself as for her. Unzipping his jeans, he gripped his limp cock in his right hand, pumping it furiously in his fist to work the thing erect. There was something tawdry and dirty about jerking off in a place of healing with nothing but the sterile beige walls and the gleaming white tiled floor.

It took a while to work up a decent erection. Friction was a bitch, but Thomas needed the best possible specimen Drew could manage to give him. Drew never masturbated. Never. He had before, what teenage boy hadn't? But, he hadn't exactly been a teenager in a very, very long time.

The mechanics of the act were still the same. Up. Down, Gentle twist at the crown. He didn't have Tala to take him to that special place. Fortunately, although his body knew the difference between his touch and hers, just the thought of her luscious body was enough to distract him and get his hormones in gear. His strokes became faster, tighter, and the pressure in his groin built. Faster he pumped his cock and tighter he squeezed, panting from the effort of finding his own release for the first time in over two hundred years. He gripped his cock in one fist and the cup in the other. Sweat beaded his upper lip as he took aim and shot what he hoped was a suitable specimen into Thomas's cup of truth.

Thomas discreetly took the cup from Drew and tried not to think about the nuts and bolts of how the sample had been obtained. As a doctor he saw all kinds of strange shit and people from every walk of life, but a vampire jerking off in a specimen cup...that was a new one, even for him. He beat feet for the lab. The techs didn't question his presence in their inner sanctum. He routinely ran his own specimens. What better way to keep a secret than to oversee the labs himself and then to conveniently delete the results from the computer. The kinds of blood samples he tested weren't exactly human. And nobody needed to know where the samples he tested in the lab came from.

Donning gloves, he smeared a sample across a slide and popped it into place. He too was curious. If Drew could father a child, it would set the vampire community on its ear. Wolf blood would become a precious commodity and the entire pack could be hunted for the rarity of their gift. He one eyed the microscope's eyepiece and adjusted the slide. There they were, swimming like little troopers off to war. The sperm count was high enough. The little bastards swam like they were supposed to. Just to be sure, he ran a second and a third sample. He was right and he didn't want to consider what it might mean. "Shit."

Drew paced the room, stomping from corner to corner as he waited for the news. How long did it take for Thomas to do whatever he did in that lab of his? This was a bad idea. He'd cleaned up, but his cock still felt sticky from his come. His hands had been thoroughly washed and dried, but he could feel the hot jets of release spilling over his fingers. Did he trust Thomas? Yes. But, in his heart of hearts, Thomas was a researcher. And in that cup he had the ultimate study to research.

The results might change the world as they knew it. If he could father a child as a result of a blood exchange with Tala so could any other vampire with any other member of the pack. He'd had to turn Tala, drink her down to the point of death and offer her his blood to bring her back. He'd done so out of love. A vampire...a rogue would feel no such commitment to a wolf and there'd be only death. What a vampire hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old wouldn't give to bring a child into the world?

If it were true as he suspected and he could father a child, he'd have to protect the secret very carefully. Even from those he trusted the most. He'd have to think long and hard before Tala and he even considered making the baby she so desperately wanted. Their wants mattered for shit, not when it might put the entire pack in danger. The wolves would be hunted for the gift of their blood to the point of extinction if the secret got into the wrong hands.

Thomas looked pale and a little shaky as he entered the exam room. Drew knew right then and there what the results of the test were. In Thomas's hand was an opaque plastic bag, held sealed by a cotton drawstring and inside of it the sealed specimen cup and the slides. Thomas set the bag on the exam table and backed away. He shook his head and turned on his heel. His lips moved, but no words tumbled out of his mouth. Of course, there weren't words enough to summarize what he'd discovered. An end or a beginning, life instead of death or death because of the promise of life, and between them the secret both of them silently vowed to keep.

Chapter 42

Evan hid in the darkest depths of his closet and pulled his toys around him. Clutching his Spiderman doll, he tucked his butt back into the far corner and couched in the dark, wide eyed and waiting. He was hiding, trembling with fear and reeling from the power of the images flashing through his head. He didn't like seeing bad stuff. The awfulness that sometimes people thought. He wasn't a baby. He wasn't. But, he was too afraid to pretend. There was fear and confusion all around him. The awful stink of rage and terrible, terrible fury. Huddled as far into the closet as he could get, he pulled clothes off the hangars and burrowed deep, burying himself beneath the pile. Uncle Carter was coming.

Hanning was in charge of his son while Ruby went to the doctor with Shayla. Not a hard task. Evan rarely caused any trouble. Today had proven to be the exception to that general rule. Hanning had been trying to find him for over an hour. His kid was apparently very good at hiding. Hanning had searched all the usual places, down in the basement where the other kids attended classes. In the kitchen, which was where Evan went to beg cookies from any hapless adult within range. Outside on the playground equipment, Evan so often played on. He'd looked underneath beds, behind couches and draperies, in the laundry chute, up in the attic and still, no Evan.

It was time for lunch. An event Evan rarely if ever forgot about. He'd gone out and rattled the bushes and searched up high in the trees and there wasn't any sign of his son. He'd tried calling his name, ordering him to come out, luring him out of hiding with the promise of P.B and J, and nothing. Hanning sifted through the myriad scents of the house. In his human form it was difficult to pin down one scent trail and sniff out his son. There were so many different aromas assaulting his sensitive nose, simply too many people living within these walls to isolate just one.

Hanning had broadened his search and was backtracking his steps, going room to room and invading everyone's privacy digging through closets, bathroom cabinets, checking under the sinks. Basically, everywhere and anywhere he could think of to look. Not really expecting to find his son in the most obvious place to search, Hanning pulled open the doors of Evan's closet. The pack sensed Evan was different from the other kids and they'd given him his own room. Empty hangars dangled from the closet rod and all Evan's clothes and his toys were piled up high in a heap in the corner of the closet. Hanning began to dig through the toys, gently setting a plastic Godzilla out of the way. He felt warm toes and worked his way up under the pile to a leg. "Evan, what are you doing?"

"Daddy, you should hide too," Evan whispered.

"Hide? From who?" Hanning unearthed his son from the heap and scooted the mess out of the way. Ruby was going to have a shit fit when she saw the disaster Evan had made out of the closet. Once he finally got his little boy settled down, he'd hurry and straighten it up before she got home. Ruby hated disorder in any way, shape, or form. This train wreck of a closet would be enough to set her off for weeks. It was better for everyone if he simply straightened things up before she saw it. Instead of dragging Evan out, Hanning crawled inside and took a seat, his long legs bending at an uncomfortable angle, beside his son.

"Uncle Carter."

"Why would I hide from Uncle Carter?" Hanning frowned at his son's fear. Evan's eyes were wide with terror. The whites of his eyes were bright and clear around his dark brown irises. Evan's bottom lip trembled as he nibbled at the border with his front teeth. He was curled up into a tiny ball of arms and legs. Even with all they'd faced back in Texas, he'd never seen his son so terrified. "Buddy, you ok?"

"Daddy, Uncle Carter is in a bad, bad mood. He's coming here. He's coming after Aunt Shayla." Sometimes it was so hard to make adults understand. His dad would keep him safe, but it wasn't his dad or even himself he worried about. He was scared for Aunt Shayla and his little cousin still inside her belly. He saw blood and death, the red of rage, and the darkness of Carter's mind. It wasn't Uncle Carter he hid from, but those macabre images he saw with his mind's eye. It wasn't like watching a movie. He wasn't removed simply viewing pictures on a screen. This was real and it was coming, fast as the wind, it was coming.