Dawn's Path: Completed Work

He had the capacity to harm her beyond repair. She loved him. She trusted him with her body and her heart. He didn't need whips, bindings, controlling words, or pain to harm her. The power to break her permanently was his. And with soft sighs and warm skin, and the beating of her heart, she gave her control over to him, freely. There was no running, no going back.

Sliding into her, driving his cock so deeply inside of her there was nothing but the two of them locked together as one and the pleasure they shared. Here in this place of liquid passion there was no division and no space between them. He belonged to her as equally as she belonged to him. He submitted to her will as she submitted to his. And in their joined bodies, they had the ultimate power over each other.

Angel gave herself over to Lance in a way she'd never given herself to another man. There was nothing gentle about the way he handled her. Demanding thrusts pushed her to a place where there was nothing but wild sensation and heated pulses of pleasure. He whispered her name as if it were a vow or perhaps, a curse. She'd never considered the power she wielded or the responsibility that came with it. She could destroy him with an unkind word. Utterly break him with the cruelty of a gesture. The wild impulse was there, hiding in the recesses of her mind. But, she would never give herself over to it. She was not Roark. She would never be Roark.

Riding the waves of orgasm. Bucking beneath Lance from the pleasure he gave her. Angel felt along the floor, her fingers locking around the shard of wood. Gripping it in her palm, she felt the brittle texture of the last bit of Roark. There was no running, no hiding from Lance. No part of her that didn't belong to him. Clinging to reality and the solidness of the wood gripped in her palm. Her fingers latched onto Lance's shoulder and feeling the realness of him above her as he came on a breathy gasp. She realized that if she wanted to move forward. She had to go back, to her past. Confront the ghosts that had hitched a ride into her present and shadowed her future. Sacrifice on final thing for Lance, for love, and for herself and lay the past to rest.

Chapter 32

"Are you going to pace a hole in Chris's carpet or are you eventually going to tell me what has been eating at you?" Bryce stretched his long legs and lounged on the pillows, sighing in resignation as his bride chewed on her thumbnail and paced back and forth across the room. The honeymoon phase, as some called it, was officially over. And life had intruded, unwelcome and demanding as ever. Damn, how he missed those first few days of their marriage. That fragile expanse of time when everyone had gone out of their way to leave them alone and there was nothing but the two of them.

No, he hadn't fallen out of love. In fact, he was more in love with Kayla than ever. He just wished she'd hold still long enough to let him show it to her. She'd been increasingly restless and more than a smidge distant since that morning she'd crawled out of the bed and left him in it alone. Kayla was a master at hiding her innermost thoughts from him. He caught vague hints of her emotions through their bond. Sensed her worry. And could guess at its cause. But, he had no idea of what to say to put her mind at ease. The things she worried about and had her pacing the bedroom were out of his control. And quite, frankly were not either one of their problems to fix.

Women. He'd never understand them. Could not comprehend their inborn need to control everything around them and stress over every little detail of what they could not. Men were simple, their basest needs so different than those of the fairer sex. If the roles were reversed and she was the one naked under the sheets, well, needless to say he wouldn't be pacing the floor worrying about shit he could do nothing about. He'd be under the covers giving her a little loving. To hell with the rest of the world, it'd keep on spinning whether he worried about it doing so or not.

"I can't find Lance and I had something important to discuss with him." Kayla flung her hands in the air out of sheer frustration. Working at her thumbnail with her front teeth, she continued pacing. She couldn't find Angel either. She'd left her in Lance's care and now the both of them were missing. Anything could have happened to them.

Kayla envied her husband. Bryce was so laid back and so casual about everything. Not much ever seemed to get to him. And she wished she had just a little of his faith that things would somehow, magically work out for the best. Stealing a glance at him, stretched out on the bed, looking playgirl centerfold gorgeous with his olive skin, perfect physique, and unruly mop of dark hair had her sighing and longing for the simpler times of not more than a week ago. Their honeymoon had been too short. They'd just started to get used to the idea of being man and wife when chaos sucked them back into the fray, again.

She'd been true to her word and not uttered so much as a whisper about her concerns to Bryce. He was clueless and had no idea how far down the rabbit hole Angel had slipped. Kayla had tried to handle this mess on her own. And all she'd managed to do was worry and push her husband, the one person she was supposed to be able to trust with anything, away from her. It didn't feel right to keep secrets from him. But, how was she going to explain it? She was trying to protect him. Bryce's knowing wouldn't help anyone, most of all, him. She wouldn't put in a position of betrayal. If he kept Angel's secret, he'd be betraying the brotherhood. And if he told, he'd be betraying his best friend. And how was he supposed to come back from that? No, it was best if he didn't know anything. Then, if things really were as bad as she worried they were, he could claim ignorance and it'd be the absolute truth.

"Ah," Bryce said with an understanding nod. "Angel." He patted the edge of the bed and beckoned his wife to come to him with what he hoped was a 'come hither' stare. She glowered at him for the effort, huffing and pacing even faster than before. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, vowing to pay Lance back for wrecking his honeymoon. Kayla needed reassurances. Bryce did not waste time with false words he didn't mean. If he said something, he believed it to be true. "Let me give you some advice. Sometimes, a little intervention goes way too far. Let Lance and Angel sort this out for themselves. I know you mean well. And you're worried. But, let it go."

"What do you know?" Kayla huffed. She paused her pacing long enough to glare at her husband. Looking all too tempting and seductive stretched out on the bed, Bryce returned her scowl with a waggle of his brows and that slow grin he knew she found damn hard to resist. This was not the time to think about the temptations of the flesh. But, her body was so weak. Too bad her body and her mind were not of one accord on the subject of her husband. And she was not about to climb into that bed and let him have his wicked way with her. Not when Angel's life might possibly be hanging in the balance.

Keene's advice had been insightful and thoughtful. He'd let her draw her own conclusions about how to best help Angel and what had caused the breakdown in the first place. Kayla suspected Keene was right on all points. The only thing was, Lance didn't know about Keene's observations. Lance might make things worse. Might make Angel worse, because he didn't know how much she truly loved him.

"I know Lance. He's not going to give up on her." Bryce eased the covers down to his hips. He patted the empty spot beside him on the bed and crooked his finger at her. "You need a stress breaker."

"What I need is a husband who isn't perpetually horny." Kayla paused in her tracks, eying the hard jut of his narrow hips visible just above the covers. She had to admit that she didn't know Lance as well as Bryce did. They'd been best friends longer than she'd been alive. And that had to count for something. Bryce was so relaxed. Voicing absolute and unwavering faith in his friend. He didn't know Angel much better than she did. Kayla doubted that anyone truly knew Angel. Everything Kayla had to go by was just worry and speculation. Maybe, Lance did have Angel under control and Kayla was just working herself into a tizzy over nothing.

"You like it." Stripping at the bachelorette party taught him a thing or two about women, what they liked and how to seduce them. Not to mention dancing half-naked in front of them cured him of any self-conscious modesty he might have possessed. He slid free of the covers. Exposed and liking the heat, shining for him in her eyes, he walked his hands down his stomach to his thighs.

"Cut it out Bryce. I'm serious." Kayla crept closer to the edge of the bed and craned her neck to get a better look at what he was doing with his hands. Bryce was not shy when it came to his body. She licked her lips as he cupped himself and began to stroke his palm up and down his length.

"So am I. Angel and Lance will be fine." Cupping his cock in his palm, he slowly worked his fist up and down the hard length. He'd never done this in front of a female before. And he was certainly no stranger to Rosie Palmer and her five sisters. But, to get himself fully hard for his wife, to have her eyes on him as he did it, was one of the most intimate and arousing things he had ever experienced. And yeah, he'd be doing this again, real soon.

"You're sure?" Kayla guiltily slid her blouse over her head and unfastened the front closure on her bra, tossing them to the floor. The mattress whispered a soft groan as she climbed onto it, bending beneath her weight. A drop of moisture beaded at the tip of Bryce's erection as he stroked himself into full arousal. His testicles were tight and close to his body. And the only thing, the only thought left in her mind was licking away that bead of desire as she cupped his balls and took him into her mouth. It was so hot watching him doing all the work.

"Positive." Bryce slid Kayla's jeans down her thighs and tugged her legs free from them. Clad in a pair of lacy panties, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He'd given her a show and he wanted the same in return. Palming his cock with one hand, he stripped her of the panties and guided her hand down over her belly to her sex. "Let me watch you come, Kayla," he said, panting the request through gritted teeth to keep himself from coming long before she did.

Kayla slid her fingers through the sleekness of her folds and sought out the places that gave her the most pleasure. She didn't think much about the dark times before she'd met Bryce. In her happiness, she did her best not to dwell on the past. She would not allow that darkness to taint one second of the joy she'd found with Bryce. Men had watched her touch herself. But, with him, it felt like the first time she'd ever felt her wetness on her fingers, stroked the swollen nub of nerve endings, and plunged her fingers deep into her soft depths.

Stroking herself, her hips bucking eagerly against her fingers from the pleasure of him watching her. Panting in time with her hungry sighs, Kayla was there so quickly. She held back, parting her thighs to give him the full view of her fingering her clit. Dipping her fingers in the moisture of her core, to spread it over her lips, she gasped at the jolts of her pending orgasm. He worked his cock with his fist, squeezing the ripe head and teasing the tip with his thumb. Faster and faster, groaning with the effort of controlling his arousal. His effort only served to send her to the brink that much quicker. And she didn't know how much longer she could stave off her climax.

"Let go," Bryce rasped. Watching her finger herself for him was the most arousing thing he'd ever seen. Her dainty fingertips grazed the ripeness of her clit and plunged deep into her core. Slick with moisture her lips glistened with her come. And as she stiffened and her toes curled trapping the sheets between them with the force of the orgasm taking full control of her body, he lifted her hand. Replacing her fingers with his cock, he thrust his hips, joining them together. He licked her come off her fingertips, savoring the taste of her on the tip of his tongue. Sliding in and out of her, pumping hard and fast to fill her and slake the ache of his need. Bringing her back from the edge only to send her there again, with him this time. He realized the honeymoon wasn't over. It was only just beginning.

Chapter 33

Janine shot Patrick an excited glance as she finished preparing for her final evening as a human. Her hair and makeup were impeccable and her outfit, to die for. A lace skirt, modestly striking her mid thigh, topped by a matching spaghetti strap silk camisole top and jacket. Classy. Not revealing in the least. After all, she was a married woman and there was no need to drive the male population insane by advertising what wasn't for sale. She playfully swatted Patrick's hand away as he tugged at the hem of her skirt dragging it lower over her thigh. "Stop that."

Patrick huffed and fished around in her closet. "Can't you wear this instead?" he asked. Pulling out a long-sleeved, knee length, multi purpose dress that she kept put aside for funerals, job interviews, and appearing in court. He inspected the drab garment with the zeal of a kid on Christmas morning and nodded in approval at his selection.

Janine laughed and snatched the dress from his hand. Stuffing it in the back of the closet where it belonged. "No." Patrick would clothe her in potato sacks, if he had his way about her wardrobe. Which, he didn't. And therefore, out of general principle, she was wearing exactly what she wanted to and not what he'd picked out.

He'd never fully appreciated her flare for fashion. Oh, he liked to look. He just didn't like for anyone else to sneak a peek or two at the goods. She was of the opinion that a healthy dose of jealousy kept a man on the ball. Made him more attentive to his female. She wasn't going anywhere. Patrick was her world. And he didn't have to worry about her straying. But, it never hurt to make him think that he had something to worry about now and then. She closed the closet door closed and held out her hand, palm up. "Gold card, if you please," she demanded, impatiently tapping the toe of her stiletto heel against the floor.

Patrick pretended to be upset. Rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath in irritation, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped the charge card into her eagerly clutching fingers. She thought he was ridiculously old-fashioned. Almost caveman archaic when it came to most things. He was a man of his time, not a man of hers. And even though she didn't understand it, in a century or two, she would. She'd be a woman, not of the present, but of the past.

He could begrudge her nothing. Let her live in her world of today while she still could. It wasn't about hemlines. It was about the you that didn't change while the world and everything you'd ever known rushed bravely forward and left you behind choking on the dust of yesterday. "Don't spend the family fortune."

Janine gave Patrick a sly smile and a wink as she snatched the card from his fingers. "I won't." Stashing the charge card in her tiny handbag, she stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll be responsible. I promise." In her purse were the keys to the kingdom. And she was going to spend to her heart's content, before he lost his nerve and placed a limit on the card.

Patrick smiled after Janine, watching her butt twitch seductively in the tight skirt as she walked away. He had faith in Robbie and Anna's abilities to guard his wife safe and to bring her home safely in one piece. Besides, he'd already contacted Marcus and Sam, as an extra line of defense, just in case. It wasn't her spending, which would give Dane a heart attack when the bill came a month from now. It was just letting her go to live what was left of her life and the knowing of how little of it there was to be lived that caused his throat to squeeze shut and his chest to tighten. It was the realization that this was it and that after tomorrow night neither one of them would ever be the same.

Once Janine and her entourage were under way, Patrick found his feet carrying him to the gym. Janine was preparing for tomorrow night in her way and he needed to prepare in his. His head had to be right. And right now it wasn't. His mind was filled with doubt and bleak thoughts of failure. His entire life had been one gigantic trial leading up to this moment. In the past, he'd had his share of bitter defeats. And in this he could not fail. What he was about to do was too important. Without her, he had no life, no substance. She kept him from slipping over the edge. Only she was capable of taming the beast he would otherwise become.

Janine asked for such a simple thing. The act so true to his nature, just thinking about it had his fangs lengthening with hunger and the beast purring in anticipation. He'd killed and it wasn't an easy thing to live with. Janine thought if something happened, somehow he'd manage through it. He wouldn't. She died. He died. Even if the brothers refused to do it, he'd find a way to join her on the other side. So odd, that after all these years, more than nature had allotted him at the time of his birth as a human; he still couldn't manage to look forward to dying. He wanted to live. Spend the rest of his long stretch of days with her.

She had too much faith in him, far more than he had in himself. Most of the time he hated his outward appearance. But, today, he wished his spirit was a young and carefree as his face looked to the rest of the world. It was something to be over a century old and still get carded in a bar. When Janine looked at him, she saw a man. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a frightened little boy who wasn't sure he had to balls to do what needed to be done.

Oh, there was photographic proof that he'd aged, maybe a year or two, in the century that had passed. When the technology to capture an image forever in a photograph, Doc had been fascinated by it. He snapped pictures of everything and everyone. Until the brotherhood realized that the pictures could someday condemn them all and been all but forbidden. Odd thing, to be timeless, changing so slowly, to look so damn young and feel so fucking old.

The years were like a trickle of water flowing over rock to eventually form a canyon. Janine feared her aging. She cursed at her changing body. Scowled at her reflection in the mirror and quickly covered up the passing of time with an arsenal of goop and concoctions. She didn't understand. She wouldn't understand, not for many years, how much he envied her humanity and her ability to change. After tomorrow night, she'd be stuck as she was for a virtual forever. Someday, they'd grow old and gray. But, he personally had never seen a geriatric vampire, at least not one that hadn't been turned at that late stage in life. It was possible. And it could happen, maybe, or maybe not.

Perhaps, there were no geriatric vampires gumming their prey because, time eventually got its due one way or the other. Sometimes, year after year, decade after decade, century after century simply became too much to endure. And death was the only thing left to look forward to. Suicide was almost impossible for a vampire. Hell's little safeguard, he guessed. But, there were things a vampire could do to end his life. Primarily, get someone to end it for you.

The Sons were sometimes called upon to grant such mercies. Sometimes, even for one of their own that could not take the burden of another day. And Patrick knew, sure as the sun would rise in the morning and his reflection in the mirror would be exactly as it had been the day, the decade, before. He'd kill, if he had to, to get Dane to grant him peace, if Janine didn't make it. Eternity in the pits of Hell would be better than existing in a world without her in it.