Dawn's Path: Completed Work

Patrick tasted the blend of alcohol and fruits, sweet and exotic, on Janine's lips. He didn't feel embarrassment about kissing her in front of the crowd of on lookers, only a rush of erotic need and pure masculine possessiveness. He patted her butt affectionately and dragged her hips to settle against his hard length. His lips curved as she leaned her weight into him and took the hint. "My place or yours?" he whispered.

Janine giggled and gulped down her drink in one swallow. Absently tossing the glass as Patrick lifted her into his arms. She was too preoccupied to notice as Alex swooped in to catch the glass before it hit the floor and shattered in to a million tiny shards. Patrick adjusted his arms to get a better hold on her before he carried her toward the exit. "Love you guys!" she shouted over his shoulder, slurring the words and waving.

Alex set the glass on the coffee table and waved back to Janine. Her eyes misted over with tears. She loved Janine and didn't want to see anything bad happen to her. Janine had already had her share of bad in her life and it was time for some good to come her way.

Janine was so much braver than she. Alex had been ready to die after Lucien's death. In fact, she was to the point that night on the bluffs where she questioned the goddess's wisdom that she didn't die and continued living. She hadn't seen Chance coming. But, Janine had. Somehow, she'd known what Alex simply wasn't able to accept at the time. Life for her would go on and she would find love again. And thanks to Janine's not so subtle efforts to bring Chance and she together, she had.

Alex pushed her worries to the back of her mind and grabbed her mother's hand to help her up off the couch. Her mom probably didn't realize all the things about herself that Alex did. She was aging. Alex could hear the protesting of her joints as she straightened her knees to stand. She saw all the changes in her mother, the lines deepening in her face, the dark spots and the thinness and chill of her fingers. Time was a ruthless bitch and it was claiming her mother, stealing her from her, bit by bit, day after day. "Ready to go?"

Leigh let her daughter pull her to her feet and leaned heavily on her shoulder. She wasn't as young as she used to be. And although she still had it for a woman her age. Sometimes, it was just a little trickier to get it in gear. The wine she'd been sipping throughout the evening had gone straight to her head. And the room spun for a minute as she righted her posture. Determined to hide the strain in her body. Masking the grimace from the ache in her knees behind a smile, she motioned for Alex to grab her purse. If she bent down to pick it up, she might not be able to hide the truth of her pain from her daughter's vigilant scrutiny. She was getting older and slowing down a bit. It happened. It was supposed to happen.

Bryce, ever the gentleman, helped her slide into her coat. And she was grateful for his assistance. He saw what Alex didn't want to see. The stiffness in her fingers and her shoulders, and the evidence of the aches and pains, not even the wine had managed to dull. Leigh didn't think about it often. That, these days there were fewer days ahead of her than there were behind. She accepted that she would eventually die. When she was good and ready to do it. And today, this week, this year, hell even as distant as this decade, was not her time.

She refused to go to her grave in her rocking chair, crocheting bonnets and socks for grandchildren she'd never have. She was very much alive and she was going to stay that way until the day she gave up the ghost and died. "I guess I'll go see what your father is up to." She snickered and covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Maybe I'll slip him a Viagra. You know, the pump still works. It just takes a bit more priming these days."

Bryce chuckled at Leigh's shy blush and Alex's horrified expression. He'd known Leigh for a very long time. And in her youth she'd been a beautiful woman. She was still a beautiful woman. He drew her coat up around her shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her blonde head. "Go get 'em Leigh."

"Mom!" Alex huffed, bushing with embarrassment. "I don't want to know about Dad's pump." She shuddered at the thought of her mom and dad knocking boots. Some things just weren't natural. And yes, she was well aware of the fact that her parents still had sex. Obviously, they'd had sex at least once or she wouldn't be here. But, there were just some mental images a kid could do without. "ICK!"

"Viagra could kill dad. He could have a heart attack or something. I'm calling Thomas and getting him to stop the prescription," Alex said as she collected her mother from Bryce. Glaring at him over the top of her mother's head in disdain that he'd encouraged her. Her parents didn't need to have sex. Pushing sixty, at their age, one last romp could be the end of either one of them.

Leigh patted Alex's smooth cheek. So young. So delusional. Did Alex really believe that they didn't have sex? With not much else to do after the six o'clock news, what did she think they did to pass the time? Alex as so much like her father and such a creature of habit. Leigh knew Alex made rounds, skulking down the hall and poking her head into their bedroom at night to check on them. Leigh just made sure they weren't having sex when Alex popped by.

She was a long way from senile. And she had several more good years before she really began to feel the press of time. Leigh knew what Alex wanted for them. What sacrifices she was willing to make to hold on to the both of them forever. Alex just wasn't ready to let them go yet. But, there were some things that were out of her daughter's control and their deaths were but one of them. In time, Alex would learn to accept it. Leigh and Alexander had made their decision long ago, before Alex was born. This was the life they wanted. To grow old together and watch their little girl blossom into a woman. And she had. And she'd done her parents prouder than she realized.

Alex practically carried her mother to the car. Stuffing her in the passenger and buckling her in. Before Alex could climb behind the wheel and start the engine, her mom was fast asleep. There would be no wild Viagra night for her parents tonight. Thankfully. But, she was still going to have a long talk with Dr. Sterling about the prescription.

Her parents weren't getting any younger. There was a solution to that. If only they'd agree. Alex had talked to the both of them about it till she was out of words to speak. Her parents refused to budge on the subject. She'd been forced to resort to modern medicine to preserve their lives. She was always searching for ways to keep them young and healthy. Every time she went to Thomas with an idea or a new pill for him to prescribe, he simply shook his head and tucked his prescription pad into the pocket of his lab coat. He was probably the only physician in the world who didn't believe in pills. He sided with her parents and followed their wishes to the letter. Gently, he'd pat her shoulder and remind her that there was nothing she could do to stop time.

She could stop time. Tomorrow night, Janine would be proof of that. Alex was proof of it. All of the brothers were proof of it. Time didn't have to move forward. Alex sensed the gradual decline of her parents. She could practically hear her dad's arteries hardening and her mom's joints stiffening. None of it had to happen. They didn't have to die. Ever. Nobody saw it her way. She'd gone as far as to appeal to Dane in an attempt to garner his support. He'd automatically shut down the conversation before it began. Maybe, Janine would see things as she did. And with Janine on her side, they could force time to stand still.

Patrick took his time with Janine, loving her slowly, carefully, and thoroughly, like he always did. He relished the moments that bound them as one. Her soft sighs and moans of delight rolled over his skin as if they were gentle caresses. Opening for him, to accept his body into hers, so soft and yielding, Janine arched her back urging him on with thrusts of her hips against the exploration of his fingers. He preferred to be on top, the one in charge and in absolute control, as he pumped into her soft core.

Necessity dictated that he always maintain control during their moments of intimacy. The consequences of completely losing himself to her-in her- were fatal. He was what he was. And she was the only thing human about him. He could kill by accident as easily as he could by design. He wanted tonight to be special for the both of them. He wanted to love her completely and fully. Janine would always be who she was. She would always be the woman he was so desperately in love with. Tomorrow night wouldn't change a thing about that. Maybe it made him a selfish bastard. But, the thought was always with him, tickling the back of his mind. After tomorrow night, he wouldn't have to hold back a thing. And he could love her fully.

Stroking her blonde, unruly, curls, Patrick cradled Janine in his arms as she slipped into a fitful slumber. Fulfilled and completely sated, she dreamed. He should look forward to all the nights they had ahead of them. And he was. But, as much as he anticipated to their rediscovery of each other, he'd miss the soft, fragile parts of her that she'd entrusted to his keeping and placed under his careful guard. After tomorrow night, those parts of her would be gone forever.

He kept too much from her. Hid too many truths. And he hated that she would learn them upon opening her eyes to a much bigger world. He glanced at the clock and read the digital display. There was so little time left. A part of him wished she'd have a change of heart and remain exactly as she was, just a while longer. She wouldn't back out now. He couldn't pressure her into reconsidering. She'd made her decision and she'd stubbornly stick to it. He'd only be wasting what little time they had left together to try. Rather than fight about things he could not change, he chose to hold her and let her dream her human dreams while she still could.

Chapter 42

Angel sat in the middle of a heap of rumpled sheets, staring at the closed door. She thought Lance might come back. But, he didn't. And she was glad he hadn't. Shame for what she'd done to him held her rooted in the spot. She hadn't bothered washing away her guilt or covering her body with clothes to hide it. Her skin, the bedding, and the very air were tinted with the musky lingering essence of sex. He simply wanted too much from her. She could love him and she did. She just couldn't give herself to him in the way he needed her to. She'd known it since their first night together. And she'd willingly deceived herself with the lie that whatever she gave him would be enough. It hadn't been and it never would be.

The persistent pounding on her bedroom door was an annoyance Angel could do without. It wasn't Lance. If he wanted to seek her out, giving her the opportunity to shut him out was the last thing he'd do. The doors were made of thick, heavy oak and the locks of solid brass. But, if he wanted in, something as simple as a lock or a door wouldn't stop him. He'd just burst through anything that got in his way as he'd done countless times before. And maybe, that he'd gotten in only to be thrown out in the cruelest way possible was more than enough to keep him away for good. She'd managed to get her point across and he was finally and irrevocably done with her.

Kayla balled her fist and pounded harder on the door. Angel and she needed to have a talk. Lance had hardly been aware that Bryce and she had been making their way down the hallway as he stormed out of Angel's bedroom with fury in his eyes and unspeakable pain etched in his expression. He hadn't even bothered to get fully dressed. Emerging from her bedroom in bare feet and wearing nothing but a pair of jeans he hadn't bothered to fasten.

Lance had bolted in a full out run as far and fast away from Angel as he could, as if he couldn't get away from her or put enough distance between them. Bryce had gone after him. And Kayla, sick to death of Angel and her erratic behavior, was confronting her best friend. Damn it. She got that Angel had a bad past. So had she. Your past made you no less accountable for your actions. She was so fucking tired of Angel playing the victim. And it was far past time that Kayla spelled it out for her in no uncertain terms. She had all night, hell all of eternity, to stand here in the hallway pounding on this door until Angel gave in and opened it.

Angel glared at the door. Whoever was responsible for the incessant hammering was not going to give up until she answered. Fine. Nothing stopped an unwelcome visitor like answering the door in the nude. Angel had no shyness about her body. She'd spent almost as much of her adult life naked as she had clothed. And Roark had beaten any modesty out of her long ago. He'd liked to display his toys. Throwing back the covers, not giving a damn who was on the other side of the door, she stormed across the room and flung the door open wide.

Angel's state of undress didn't faze Kayla in the least. She wasn't embarrassed because Angel was naked. But, she was embarrassed for Angel. That Angel felt it necessary to take such measures to shock other people in hopes of keeping them at a distance. Kayla didn't say a word or show any outward signs of the shocked reaction Angel had obviously been going for. Coolly, she followed Angel into the bedroom and closed the door. Angel sauntered, seductively rolling her hips with each step. No doubt, in an attempt to extract some kind of a response. Kayla wasn't about to give it to her. As Angel lounged on the bed, not bothering to cover herself. Kayla sat on the edge of the mattress, forcing her eyes up, away from Angel's bare skin to meet her stare.

Angel should have known Kayla was the one practically beating down her door. Somehow, her nudity didn't have the effect she'd hoped for. Not on Kayla. The two of them had seen each other naked more times than Angel cared to remember. They'd touched every inch of one another's bodies under Roark's careful, calculating scrutiny. Watching them, savoring their humiliation as they caressed, kissed, tasted, and came against their will for his pleasure was a game he liked to play. And he'd played it often in the early days before Angel had become immune to the shame of the pleasure she unwillingly got and gave from the acts they performed with the finesse of trained circus ponies for his enjoyment.

"I never did say thank you," Angel said.

Kayla shrugged and toyed with the soft edge of the comforter. "For what?"

Angel reached across the bed and pushed a lock of blonde hair behind Kayla's ear. "You made it bearable, you know. The things he did to us. You tried so hard. Took so much of his punishment onto yourself in an attempt to save me from the worst of him. I still don't understand why you did it. But, I wanted to say thank you, for everything you went through because of me."

Kayla closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against Angel's cupped palm. "He would have killed you if I hadn't. You don't owe me any thanks. It was my fault you were there in the first place. I was just so damn stupid. So selfish. I should have let him kill me instead of dragging you into his world. You wouldn't be here now, if I had."

Angel stroked her fingertips over Kayla's soft cheek. Kayla still had so much guilt. She bore her remorse with a grace Angel knew she could never manage. To Kayla guilt was a badge of strength. To her, guilt was like a cancer consuming her from the inside out. "That's right I wouldn't be here now. I wouldn't be here at all, if not for you. There are worse people out there than Roark. And if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. I was living on borrowed time. We both know it. My luck would have run out eventually. You saved my life."

Kayla couldn't see things from Angel's point of view. In finding her that night at the club and introducing her to Roark, Kayla had set Angel's feet on a path from which there was no return. She had done her best to draw Roark's attention away from Angel. And Roark knew it. The harder she tried, the more punishment he unleashed on her, on the both of them. He made Angel watch as she took the lashes from his belt meant for her. And when that wasn't enough to satisfy his sadistic needs, he found other, more creative ways to get his fix.

Angel was not into women. Neither was she for that matter. But, she knew that all she had to do was pretend and coax Angel to play along. Oh yes, there was pleasure in the acts. In the things Roark had watched them do to one another with rapt fascination. It was better when they played as he watched and worse, so much worse, when he was no longer content to watch and joined in. Keene was there, standing sentinel in the corner, stoic with his eyes fixed on a distant point. Roark liked an audience. And punishing Keene with the temptation of the flesh he'd never allow him to partake of was one of Roark's many cruelties.

Keene kept many secrets. Dark things none of them would ever forget. He bore the burden of things his eyes had seen, his ears had heard, and his body had suffered to endure. To Kayla's knowledge Keene had never told a soul, not even Lori, his wife. There were secrets that were too personal, too deep, and too painful. They were his to share. And he'd kept them to himself.

Kayla gripped the short, sleek ends of Angel's hair and guided her forward until their noses touched and their foreheads rested on each other's. Their lips were inches apart. She could feel Angel's exhale drifting over her cheeks and fluttering down across her lips. "I wish that were true. I condemned you to a different version of hell than the one you were already in. But, it doesn't matter. Hell is still Hell."

Angel tilted her chin and pressed her lips to Kayla's mouth in a chaste kiss. Kayla's lips were soft and warm. But, there was no flare of arousal. No spark of interest in anything carnal. There was friendship and love and the promise of hope in the curve of Kayla's lips and the pressure from them as she returned the kiss. "Hell is just a matter of perception. My hell is of my own making. Not yours. You had nothing to do with creating it, just as I had nothing to do with creating yours. And just as we all must endure our private versions of hell. We must endure the punishments that come along with it."

"Why?" Kayla asked. "Why are you still letting Roark punish you?" She lifted her hands to cup Angel's cheeks, forcing their lips to merge one last time. "You are as free as you want to be. Quit letting him win. He's dead. Leave him in the grave to rot where he belongs."

Angel broke the kiss with a breathless gasp. Her lips trembled from the lingering traces of pressure from Kayla's lips pressed so firmly against hers. She wished it were as easy as Kayla made it sound. Maybe, for Kayla it was. "I can't let him go. I can't forget."

Kayla rose off the bed, leaving Angel sitting on top of the mound of covers, reeking of the scent of Lance, of sex, and of pain. She rested her hand on the doorknob, pausing before she opened the door. "You'd rather cling to the memory of a dead sadist than embrace a future with a man who could never harm you. You say I saved your life. And if you really believe that, then do us both a favor and live it."

Chapter 43

Janine awoke to an incessant pounding in her temples, her stomach rolling and pitching like a ship on a stormy sea, and her mouth dry as the desert. She was going to spend her last day a human, not awakened by Patrick's gentle kisses as she'd hoped, but with the hangover from hell. She should have known better than to swill down all that tequila and salt. What an idiot. Her headache was just this side of unbearable. Throbbing so severely even her split ends hurt. Moaning she rolled over on her belly and pressed her face into the pillow. Feeling around in the nightstand for the bottle of water and two aspirins that Patrick would have dutifully placed in wait for her. She cursed her stupidity.