Dawn's Never Ending Glow

"If you continue to serve as Roark's second. One day, the time will come. And you will kill him. I know how you dream of it. But, killing him to free yourself comes with a great price. You will never be free. The rogues must have a master. Even I have a master to serve. You'll have to take his place. If you follow in his footsteps, you'll be great, but you'll never be a great man. And I'd rather have you as a friend, if not a brother, than an enemy."

"He'll never let me go. It would bring nothing but trouble down on you and the brotherhood. He'd rather see me dead than see me free." Keene crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from the Great Father's stare. "You're right about one thing though. I will kill him, one day."

The Great Father tipped his head to the closed door. "It seems that trouble is already at our doorstep. Think about my offer."

"I will." Keene watched the Great Father walk away, disappearing around a bend in the hallway. The man walked with such purpose to each stride. His footfalls light with confidence and carefully placed by force of his determination. Keene certainly did not want the man as an enemy. Blocking his thoughts, Keene opened the door and resumed his post, guarding the man he one day planned to kill.

*****

Anna slid out of bed, unable to sleep. Toby was resting peacefully, snoring lightly. She slid her feet into a pair of new shoes and wandered the halls. She was still nervous about running into one of the brothers, fearful of being labeled a freak, or worse, being thrown out. But, she couldn't hide in her room forever. Rounding a corner, she stopped, laying eyes on the biggest dog she'd ever seen.

The dog was pure white. His coat smooth and she imagined, very soft and luxurious. The animal had a powerful, muscular body, and sharp, long, glistening white fangs. On all fours, the tops of his erect ears would strike her about mid hip. And since she was at least six foot one after her growth spurt. That was saying something to the sheer size of this animal. The dog sat on his haunches, analyzing her with those chilling, intelligent blue eyes. Probably determining if she was edible or not. Panting in that way that dogs do, his pink tongue snaked out and licked his long pointed muzzle and coal black nose.

Anna couldn't recall anyone at the compound owning a dog. The dog didn't show any signs of threatening behavior. Always a lover of animals, she crouched down on her knees, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, extending her fingers for the dog to sniff and called him over. She smiled when the dog trotted up and stuck his big black nose in her face, sniffing. "Hi there big fella. Where's your mommy and daddy?' she cooed, stroking the animal's thick, white pelt and running her hands through the plush, soft layers of his undercoat. Giggling, she wiped away a layer of slobber the dog left on her cheek when he licked her with his long pink tongue.

With a powerful push of his powerful shoulders, he head butted her in the chest and she landed on her butt laughing. "You're certainly friendly." She ran her finger along the short, bristly fur on his muzzle. The dog woofed in response, panting with its big pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and his black lips curled into a smile. "Shh," Anna cautioned. "Don't wake anyone up." She wrapped her arms around the animal's neck, hugging him and burying her nose into his fur. She inhaled, drawing his scent into her nose. He smelled like the outdoors and of wild game, musky and earthy.

"Hello," a deep, masculine voice said from behind her.

Anna spun, scooting on her butt, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry is he your dog?" she asked. His muscular, jean clad legs seemed to go on forever. And she found herself craning her neck way up to get a look at his face. More than startled, she scrambled to her knees in a position of humility and respect for the man.

The Great Father grinned down at Anna, gesturing for her to be at ease. "He's a wolf and no, he's not mine. He doesn't belong to anyone."

"Oh." Anna jerked her hand away from the wolf. The wolf didn't seem to take the hint and flopped onto the floor beside her, rolling onto his back to beg for a belly rub.

The Great Father chuckled, and crouched down to look Anna in the eye. "He won't bite you. If he were going to, he already would have." He bent over, close to her ear and whispered, "He only eats the bad guys." He nodded to her hand. The wolf was nuzzling his cool black nose into her palm. "He likes you."

"Does he have a name?" Anna couldn't resist running her hand along the soft tendrils of fur on the wolf's ears. The wolf grunted in approval and nuzzled her fingers.

"Psaiwiwuhkernekah Ptweowa."

Anna wrinkled her nose and frowned. As if she could say that mouthful. "What does that mean?"

"Great White Wolf. Wolves are the guardians of the spirit world. They protect the barrier between the living and the dead," the Great Father explained. Why Psaiwiwuhkernekah Ptweowa was here roaming through the compound like an ordinary house pet, he had no idea. Generally, the only time he'd ever seen the wolf was at the goddess's side. But, these were strange days and only getting stranger.

"Oh." She beamed, seeing Toby wandering down the hall towards her. "Hi Toby," she said, smiling up at him. His hair was disheveled and a pair of wrinkled sleep pants hung low on his hips. He must have realized that she was gone and came looking for her.

Toby bowed low, dropping to one knee and crossing his hand over his heart. "No'tha, My Father."

The Great Father rose to his feet and returned with all the formality and proper pomp and circumstance in which Toby had delivered it. He much preferred Anna's casualness, even if her innocence came out of ignorance.

Anna looked at Toby, confused by his exchange with the man. The Great Father was a big deal. She knew that. But, he seemed so at ease and relaxed around her. She thought maybe the rules of formality didn't apply when he was in his own home and the brothers weren't doing something ceremonial. "I made a new friend." Anna cooed to the wolf and rubbed his warm, soft, fuzzy belly. The wolf chewed playfully on the string on her sweats.

"I see that." Toby extended his palm to the wolf, allowing him to sniff. "Come to bed. You need some rest."

Anna shrugged. Toby sounded more like her father than her fiancée. But, playing with the wolf had lightened her mood. She felt more like her old self than she had in a long time. So, she let it go. "Ok." She took Toby's hand and allowed him to pull her up onto her feet. She looked over her shoulder at the Great Father and the Great White Wolf. "It was nice meeting you both."

Toby ushered Anna to their room and tucked her in to bed. Settling beside her, he draped an arm protectively around her waist. The Great Father was at the compound and so was the Rogue Master. Toby could only guess what the presence of two leaders in the same place and at the same time meant. He had to keep Anna busy and away from the south corridor, where Roark was being held. If she saw him again and unleashed her power, who knew what could happen?

The only thing Toby knew for sure was that Anna was barely hanging on, restraining her power by a mere hairsbreadth. Until she learned control, she wasn't safe and neither was anyone else. Despite his vows, his primary concern was keeping her safe. He had to keep her busy and distracted. Perfectly calm. And somehow help her to harness her gift.

Chapter 32

Roark forced his eyelids to obey, prying them open by sheer will. His head was spinning and his body ached. But, he was still alive. He sniffed the air, assaulted by a barrage of unfamiliar scents. He groaned in pain as he pushed against the slick cotton sheets, sitting up. The room was dimly lit and blessedly warm. Above all else, he hated the dark and the cold. Reminded him too much of the grave that was eventually waiting for him. Focusing, he pieced together bits of information, remembering.

He met the cautious stares of the men gathered around his bed. Noting the weapons strapped to the warriors' bodies. In the corner Kayla sat sniveling softly, her arms wrapped tightly around the stuffed teddy bear. Keene stood at attention, against a wall, pretending to be menacing. Roark knew his man was very much aware of the situation he was in. Hopelessly outnumbered and disarmed, Keene was weak and impotent, at the mercy of the Sons and of absolutely no use to him.

Roark swallowed hard, his throat dry and gravely. Spasms of hunger wracked through his body. But, he controlled any outward signs of distress. His body was in the process of healing itself, repairing the damage inflicted by the woman, and needed blood to complete the process. He didn't relish the situation he found himself thrust into. But, if The Sons were going to kill him, they would have already done so. Their damnable sense of honor served him well. "I need to feed," he said; his voice was shamefully thin and reedy.

The Shaman shook his head. He couldn't bear to watch the fiend snack on the young girl. "He'll heal up. In a day or so he should be strong enough to leave." It couldn't be soon enough as far as he was concerned. He ground his teeth, keeping his unspoken thoughts to himself. "I'll stop by later."

Kayla hopped onto her feet and gently placed the bear on the stool where she'd been sitting. "I'm right here, Master." She trotted to the edge of Roark's bed. She owed this man her life. She was a runaway, starving on the streets and being forced to do things that no one should. He took her in, fed and clothed her, asking only for one favor in return. That she shared her body with him, and eventually, gave him her life. The master could be brutal and cruel. And the only defense she had against him was unwavering faith, her youth, and one hundred percent obedience.

Roark's eyes met Kayla's. By far, she was his favorite. Not because she obeyed so readily, but because, she pretended to so well. Unfortunate that she was aging and he'd have to replace her soon, before he broke her completely. Gently stroking her cheek he whispered, "You're such a good girl." Roark glanced at Dane, his gaze filled with intent.

Dane nodded and turned away. He couldn't stomach seeing someone so young be severely taken advantage of. But, the girl was willing and there was nothing he could do to stop Roark from using her.

The man was a savage. The Rogue Master did nothing to ease the pain of his bite. Dane's fangs extended and his nostrils flared, responding to the scent of human blood and the sharp gasp of pain from Kayla's pursed lips.

Out of habit, Roark bit and drank from his willing donor. He'd forgotten that the

Sons didn't like to play with their food. And they were repulsed with watching him sink his fangs into her without spellbinding her first. Pain added such a unique flavor to the blood. A little spice, as it was. He pulled Kayla onto the bed and sent her to sleep with a whispered psychic suggestion out of respect for his hosts.

Kayla's blood surged through his body. Fueling the repair work to his damaged systems. Roark was careful, taking just enough to slack his need and not nearly enough to fully sate him. He kept so many donors around for a reason. He liked to drink and drink deeply. When he finished and withdrew his fangs from his little morsel, Keene scooped Kayla up and positioned her as comfortably as he could on the stool without risking her toppling over.

"We're not the fiends that you think we are," Roark said, dabbing at a stray drop of blood at the corner of his mouth with the pad of his fingertip. He sucked the drop clean and gauged Dane for a reaction.

Dane grunted. Soon The Rogue Master and his sidekick would be out of his home and hopefully, out of his hair. Maybe, the little run in with Anna would give the bastard pause before he ventured onto their territory again. "I'll have some food sent for the girl." He slid his gaze to Keene. "You'll have to make do with hunting in the woods."

Keene hadn't given much thought to what he was going to do about his own needs. His mind was preoccupied, entertaining thoughts about The Great Father's offer. He didn't necessarily like animal blood. It was weaker and thinner than human blood. But, he'd resorted to it before, in an emergency. If he were really going to consider the offer, he'd have to think about his diet. Humans were off the menu. Used for supplementation only, like vitamins. "Very well."

"As for you." Dane shot a disdainful glare at Roark. "Animal blood won't be powerful enough to expedite your healing. Do you have more... humans, in your group?" He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide his displeasure at asking the question.

Roark smiled congenially. Dane didn't like him. Didn't trust him and the feeling was mutual. "Of course. We travel together, like the happy family that we are."

Dane nodded. "I'll arrange to have another brought to you." He stared glaringly at Keene and Roark. "You will not leave this room. You will be fitted with tracking devices while you're in my home. And above all else, you will not kill. If you so much as harm one hair on anyone's head, I'll finish what Anna started." His tone was gruff and official, final, leaving nothing open for discussion.

"That's very amicable of you," Roark said, forcing his tone to be light, friendly. He resented being ordered around by someone as young as Dane. But, given the circumstances, he had little choice. Perhaps, he'd catch a glimpse of The Great Father himself. Roark rested his head against the pillows, playing a bit more damaged than what he was. If he played his cards right, he might be able to turn this situation into something good. Something he could use to his advantage.

"As soon as you've recovered sufficiently and feel strong enough to receive visitors. The Great Father would like a word with you," Dane said.

Roark lounged on his pillows, disguising his grin of triumph beneath a watery, grimace of pain. "I haven't seen the man in a very long time. I look forward to reuniting with him. Although, I'm not at my full capacity, please advise him that I am at his beck and call, whenever he wishes."

Chapter 33

When she awoke, she was nestled in the crook of Patrick's arms, snuggled down in the deep warmth and comfort of the bed. She batted her eyes straining her neck to see the red digital display on his alarm clock. Soon, she'd have to get up and ready for work. But, lying here next to Patrick, feeling his breath skate lightly across the top of her head was so tempting. She savored the emotion, holding on to it. She could almost believe, locked in the warmth of his arms, that he loved her.

She closed her eyes, painfully aware that she was accomplishing nothing more than deluding herself. But it was a beautiful delusion. Mustering her will, she pushed back the blankets and tried to slide free from his embrace without waking him. His powerful arms held tightly. Snuggling her against him.

"Don't go," Patrick said softly. He wasn't asleep and hadn't been for hours. He woke up and saw her, dozing on the loveseat. He hadn't thought about it. Hadn't stopped to consider that she might not want to wake up in his bed and in his arms. He'd carefully picked her up, slid her under the covers, and crawled into bed beside her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his arms obey and turn loose of her warmth. "Stay with me for a few more minutes."

Janine melted when his lips brushed across the top of her forehead in a soft, affectionate gesture. He was being so sweet and gentle. She closed her eyes and gave in, her body molding itself to fit against his. Lifting her chin, she welcomed his mouth, opening and responding to the warm passion of his kiss.

Patrick exploded in a fury of want and desire. He forced his hands to slow, not to rush and savor the moment. Gently seek out her sensitive places, the soft familiar ones he knew so well. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. And her body responded to the brush of his fingers. He unleashed his tongue savoring the taste of her skin. Passion knows no honor and he didn't hold back. Continuing his onslaught, he stroked, tasted, and kissed every last inch of her until she was writhing beneath him, panting with need, moaning softly, with his name on her lips.

Janine clutched at Patrick's back and tore at the waistband of his sleep shorts in desperation. She needed more. The wait, the anticipation was sheer torture and she couldn't take another second. Later, she might regret what was happening between them. But, for now, the moment felt so right and she was lost in it. She gasped in joy when he slid in, burying himself to the hilt, stretching and molding her body to fit.

Patrick claimed Janine with a hard, possessive thrust. Bucking and rocking he pounded his hips against hers, growling out her name like a curse. To say her name while he filled and pumped inside of her felt better than the sensations created by her wet sheath, gripping him tightly in spasms of pleasure. She was back. Really back and at his side where she belonged.

Janine lifted her head, granting him better access to the tender flesh running along the curve of her neck. Allowing the gentle, cool scrape of his fang across her skin. She shuddered when he lowered his mouth to the tiny wound and drank, still fully engaged and thrusting into her, pushing her over the edge. She cried out and wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips, spiraling, pulling him along with her.

Bursts of pleasure wracked Patrick's body as he fell apart, filling her. She was beautiful, soft, and warm. He cared for her so deeply and intensely. The emotions were like none he'd ever experienced before. His body was relaxed, muscles turned to jelly after the force of his release. He turned onto his back, sliding her body against his, stroking the smooth skin on her back with his fingertips. Now was the right time to tell her how he felt. He wanted to. But, the words failed him when he needed them the most.

Janine sighed, looking up at Patrick, resting her chin against his chest. She could have stayed with him, spending the whole day in bed. As an afterthought with morning chasing so closely on her heels, making love to him might have been a mistake. Lying here beside him in the dark bedroom in a perfect cocoon of intimacy with just the two of them. She could pretend. Pretending might get her through to the next moment. But in the harsh light of day, she had to face reality. "I need to go."

Patrick reluctantly released Janine and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her

dress in the same clothes she wore last night. He needed to say something to convince her to stay. He couldn't keep her a prisoner, locked in his room. He couldn't force her to stay. He wouldn't beg. Prattling off some damned morning after cliché was too shallow, too beneath the moment. Making love to her had been deep and meaningful to him. Not some tawdry rendezvous he was anxious to forget.

"Janine, I..." he paused, fumbling with the words on his tongue. She was dressed, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. "You know I'm always here for you. Don't you?" It was the only thing he could think of. He wanted to be her rock. She could count on him for anything. He'd always be at her side, offering support, protection, anything she needed. Anything. Anytime.

Janine thought this was the moment of Patrick's big epiphany. She held her breath in eager anticipation. And exhaled on a huff, when once again, he failed to hit the mark. She would not cry. She would not allow herself to regret last night. What she needed to hear was the three little words that he would not say. "Please, get a clue soon, Patrick." She opened the door to his bedroom, her hand resting on the knob.