Dawn's Promise

"Yeah, I'll stay with her until Will gets here. It's not a problem," Bryce reassured the harried voice on the other end. Ape shit was an understatement. The man was livid. Cursing words dirty enough to make a sailor blush. It was a good thing Toby couldn't reach across the miles and throttle him through the phone lines. He'd already vowed to cut off a certain piece of Bryce's anatomy if Anna suffered so much as a split end. "My pleasure." He ended the call and handed the phone over to Anna. He frowned at her disapproving glare. "Sorry. Toby wasn't about to take no for an answer."

"Thanks," Anna grumbled, stuffing the phone into her purse. Admitting defeat, she planned what she'd need to pack for her weekend getaway. Not that she minded Toby being all manly and protective of her. In fact, his fierce protective streak made her feel special and cared for. But, he was taking this whole thing way overboard and blowing just a little incident way out of proportion.

Cocking her head to the side, she turned her attention to the vampire sitting next to her. He was tall, so long legged. The narrow space between the front and backseats contorted his knees at an uncomfortable angle. Built for speed and distance with a broad chest suffused with a layer of lean hard muscle. She guessed his lineage to be one of Mediterranean descent.

Despite his vampire pallor, his complexion was deep and richly olive toned. Disheveled by the wind, sleek waves of midnight black hair fell over equally dark and expressive brows. He wore his hair short, just brushing the collar of his jacket. Probably to keep it from curling at the ends the way it most likely did if allowed to grow much longer. At complete odds with his coloring, his eyes were his most disarming feature. They were the pale gray of a mid-winter storm.

"Bryce," he replied. It was finally nice to meet the woman he had been guarding for weeks in person. Gingerly, he extended a hand.

"Good to meet you," she replied. Shaking his hand told her volumes about him. His fingers were long. His grip gentle, but not weak, reserved and slightly hesitant. Awkwardly his palm wrapped around her fingers and released them. He was uncertain, not about his task of guarding her, but of her, in general. She took it he didn't get out much and didn't know what to make of her. "What will you do with him?" she asked, referring to Marcus.

Bryce frowned and glanced over the seat at the driver of the cab. Busy cursing at every driver on the road and weaving haphazardly in and out of traffic, he wasn't interested in their conversation. "Marcus didn't break any rules. Once he's properly fed, Lance will probably try to convince him to return to the compound."

"You won't hurt him?" Anna asked hesitantly.

Bryce scoffed at her fear for Marcus. The man could have killed her with a flick of his wrist. And yet, she was worried for his safety. "Of course not."

"Well, that's good." Quietly, Anna stared out of the window the rest of the ride home. Relieved when the taxi ground to a halt in front of her house. She gathered up her purse and the soggy bag, letting herself out of the cab as Bryce paid and tipped the driver. Picking a path over the ice-crusted walkway to her front door, she shrugged off Bryce's steadying hand on her elbow. "Are you going to lurk in the shadows or do you want to come in?"

Toby was going to skin his balls with a butter knife for accepting her invitation. But, the fading daylight had caused a sudden drop in the temperatures and it was damned cold outside. He wasn't susceptible to hypothermia. Hard to freeze to death when by rights he was technically dead, at least on paper. Bryson Christensen died over a century ago on a balmy, moonlit night in the middle of August. Out of habit, he shivered into the collar of his jacket and followed her inside.



Chapter 32

John Mark sat across the kitchen table from Chance. Watching in rapt disgust as Chance stuffed the remainder of his Happy Burger Double Deluxe down his throat and finished off the mammoth sized Coke with an utterly satisfied slurp.

John Mark could practically hear the kid's arteries hardening from all the fat he'd ingested in that one, greasy, dripping, nauseating meal. Good thing the goddess had something in store for the kid. Otherwise Chance was destined for a triple-bypass by the time he turned forty.

"That was fantastic!" Chance sighed and patted his bulging stomach contentedly. Usually, he didn't indulge in toxic waste cleverly disguised as food. But tonight, a particular craving hit him and he'd begged John Mark to drive him into town for something besides the low fat, low sugar diet he religiously adhered to with the zeal of the faithful. Besides, the cabinets and the fridge were empty and there wasn't anything to eat except for pickle relish and a handful of forgotten graham crackers leftover from the night before. Rather than suffer the grocery store, John Mark eagerly caved.

The burger was greasy and loaded with toppings, so much so that the bun was soggy and disintegrated between his fingers with the first bite. The fries were crispy and salty, fresh from the fryer. Just the way he liked. Snickering at John Mark's expression of distain at his eating habits, Chance sucked the remainder of his Coke noisily through the straw and cut loose a belch of epic proportions.

John Mark raised a brow at Chance's table manners and prayed like hell the kid had an epiphany before he sprouted fangs. Eating like a pig was one thing when your food came in a wrapper and quite another when it had a pulse. "Have you given any thought to going through the trials?" he asked, bridging the subject carefully.

"Not really." Chance stretched, adjusting his frame on the hard seat. "Is that how you became...?" he paused, not sure how to say it.

"Yes." John Mark didn't mind if the kid asked questions about his conversion. He grinned at Chance's attempts to hide his curiosity behind a lazy yawn. "They're tuff. Grueling. You're not going soft on me? Not sure if you can do it?"

"Hell no, I can do it. I'm just not sure if I want to," Chance retorted. "Blood isn't really my thing, you know." He got a little queasy at patting hamburger patties. He crumpled the grease soaked bag and waggled it under John Mark's nose. "This is more to my tastes."

John Mark scoffed at Chance's defensiveness. A lot of people were 'sensitive' to the sight of blood. "You'd get used to drinking blood. Everybody does."

Chance aimed for the trashcan and tossed the bag, grinning as the bag banked off the wall and landed with a thud in the container. "I guess so. But, I don't know if I WANT to." He thought for a second and wrinkled his brow at John Mark. "Who'd take care of my mom if I did?" He was still squeamish about feeding his mother. But, she had to do it and he'd rather it be from him than anyone else.

"We'd find her a donor, if that's what you're worried about. We won't let her starve."

"That's just one of many of my issues. Look, I respect what you guys are doing here," Chance said, straightening in his seat and leaning forward on his elbows. " I don't know if I want involved."

John Mark's brows knit together in a frown. "You're involved whether you want to be or not, Kid. Every being on this planet is involved. The rogues are out there and it's our job to stop them."

"I'm just not sure." Chance crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. "The whole vampire thing still kind of freaks me out."

"It did me too at first," John Mark admitted.

"What's it like?"

"Indescribable. There aren't words enough to explain. The colors. The detail. I remember being human. Eating that slop. Staring into the sun. But, I can't remember what food tasted like or the warmth of dawn on my face. What it was like to stand right next to someone and not hear their heart beating, air entering and leaving their lungs, or the whoosh of blood circulating through their veins and knowing that I'm the only thing that stands between the rogues and their precious lives. Everything I remember from before is so vague...distant. Almost like it never happened."

John Mark lifted his eyes and pinned Chance with a stare. "In so many ways, what you have is enviable. Each day so new and each breath so treasured because it may be your last. Your life is so short. Shorter than I think you can comprehend at this point. And for that, I envy you. But, I wouldn't trade this life for any amount of first. I was born to do this."

"You sound so sure." Chance played with the plastic straw in his cup, winding it around his finger, cutting off the circulation, watching the tip turn crimson red, tingling with numbness, and then released the constrictive band. It was odd to think that John Mark envied him. John Mark...hell, his mom and dad, had forever at their disposal. Yet, they envied him because he did not. He lifted his eyes to meet the intensity of John Mark's unwavering stare.

" I am. And I think...no I'm absolutely certain you were too." John Mark said. Chance flinched at John Mark's declaration. How could the man be certain of anything when he wasn't sure himself?

John Mark's eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, what if we set up the trials? Just to see if you can do it." John Mark stretched out in his chair sighing, and shook his head. "Nah, that's a stupid idea. Too dangerous. And you mom would kick my ass if I bruised her baby boy. I'll bet you can't finish them anyway. So many pussy out. You probably will too. Forget I mentioned it."

John Mark glanced up at Chance, reading the kid's expression and noticing the gleam of challenge in his eye. Romanced, Chance nibbled at the bait. All John Mark had to do was secure the line and reel him in. "I promise, I'll go easy on you, sugar plum." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head with a smug expression on his face.

"Don't go to any special trouble on my account." Chance knew, like a fool, he was being baited. Rankled by John Mark's condescending expression, he narrowed his eyes and accepted the challenge. "Give me everything you've got."

John Mark nodded and rose from the table. "I plan to. No. Mercy."

"Good, I don't expect any."

"Get plenty of rest tonight, sweet cheeks," John Mark cackled, crossing the dining room into the kitchen. "Say your prayers like a good boy. You're going to need all the divine intervention you can get." Sauntering off to plan the obstacle course, he left Chance sitting alone at the kitchen table, baffled and contemplating what he'd just gotten himself into.

Alex crept up behind Chance. She'd been in the kitchen making coffee and heard the whole conversation. That was the funny thing about destiny and fate. No matter how hard a person tried to fight it, it happened anyway. In Chance's case, John Mark had just made certain of that. "John Mark's good at that," she said, pulling out the empty chair beside him and sitting down, clutched her mug to her chest.

Chance jumped, startled. Damn vampires, moved so fast and so silently, he hadn't realized he wasn't alone in the dining room till Alex pulled up a chair and started speaking to him. "What?"

Alex smiled and grinned down into her mug. His heart sounded in his chest like a war drum. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," Chance lied.

"John Mark is an expert at conning people into doing things they aren't really sure they want to do," Alex explained. "But, he means well."

"I see that." Chance shrugged off the knowledge that he'd been suckered with a confident grin. "But hey, it's good exercise. It doesn't mean I've decided anything." Alex stared over the rim of her mug at him, watching him intently with her brown eyes as if she knew differently. Nervously, he squirmed in his seat and blew out a breath. How could she know something about him that he did not know himself?

Alex lowered her eyes back to the contents of her mug, noticing Chance's obvious discomfort at her stare. She didn't mean to be intimidating. Wasn't that laughable? Her? Intimidating? She simply knew his fate before he'd even had a chance to realize it for himself. He would undergo the trials and become a warrior like his father, and probably end up dead, like Lucien. Her heart broke all over again. Flooded with memories and the grim realization that there was nothing she could do to help Chance. "You might want to rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a rough day."

"Yeah, I'd better." Chance sighed, pushing off from the table. Awkwardly, he muttered a hasty good night and retreated to the kitchen. Alex barely glanced up from her mug. When she did lift her head to look in his direction, her expression was clouded with deep sadness and regret. He'd take a disdainful glare any day over the glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes.

He paced his room till the wee hours of the morning. What did he say? What did he do to cause the sudden chance to come over Alex's pretty face? He couldn't think of a thing. Yet, he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes directed at him. He'd ask his mom for advice on how to deal with Alex. But, she and Will were out somewhere. John Mark mumbled something about them having to go to the city unexpectedly. Chance didn't know what that was about. Maybe, they went out on a date. And he sure as hell didn't want the details.

Annoyed by his insomnia and the fifty trips he'd made to the bathroom to get rid of the sixty-four ounce bladder buster he'd had been stupid enough to guzzle every drop of, he gave up trying to figure Alex out and climbed into bed, desperate for a few hours of halfway decent sleep before the alarm woke him up for the day and the trials, be they mock or genuine, began.



Chapter 33

Candace clamped her hand down tightly against her mouth and gasped at the sight of the all the blood puddle and congealed on her dining room floor. "Oh my god! What has he done?" Judging by the scent, the blood wasn't human, it was Marcus's.

Will led Candace out of the dining room away from the gruesome sight and set her on the couch. Anger bubbled up inside of him over Marcus's little stunt. "It's all right. He's with the trackers. Marcus is safe." He couldn't guess what the man was up to. But, the sight of the blood had greatly upset Candace. And that greatly upset him.

Will gathered up the cleaning supplies and set out to clean up the mess. Scrubbing at the dried, sticky pool and red boot prints with bleach to kill the smell, Will emptied a roll of paper towels and went to the laundry room for more.

He frowned at the bloody knife in the sink. And made quick work of washing away the evidence before Candace saw it. He had no idea what had possessed Marcus to carve away at his flesh the way he had. Obviously, it was an act of desperation. Maybe, attention seeking, thinking he could lure Candy away out of sympathy for him. And wasn't that a rosy picture, considering Marcus had left the mess for her to clean up. Slamming the knife drawer closed, Will ground his molars at the temptation of taking out the brunt of his frustration on Marcus's sorry hide.

"When can I see him?" Candace asked, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. She should have gotten here sooner. She could have prevented this from happening. The dining room didn't look so bad, now that Will had scrubbed away the worst of the stains and was furiously working at the few left behind. The house smelled clean again, of bleach instead of blood. It did little to ease her worry. What had gotten into Marcus?

"Lance is bringing him here. Marcus can explain this personally." Will disposed of the rags, bagging up the trash tightly, and tossing it over his shoulder to carry it out to the cans in the alley behind her house. He flipped open his cell phone and barked into the mouthpiece. "Lance, What's your ETA?"

After they finished with Marcus, Toby had asked them to stop and pick up Anna. And then they could be on their way home. He was anxious to get Candace back to the safety of the compound and away from the city. He didn't care if Marcus came along or not. Secretly, he hoped not. If the man would do something like this to himself, imagine what he'd do to Candace or Chance in the wrong situation. He frowned at Candace through the picture window. She sat on the couch with her face buried in her hands, crying softly.

"Candy," Will said, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She needed something to do to take her mind off of Marcus. And he had the perfect distraction. "Would you like to pack some things for yourself and Chance?"

Candace smiled up at him, always so considerate, thinking of their son and her. "That'd be great. But, what do you think I should take? Isn't space going to be limited on the way back?" She knew they were picking up someone and with Marcus, assuming she could talk him in to coming back with them, there wouldn't be much room left for boxes.

"You pack anything and everything you want to. What doesn't fit in the SUV we'll come back for later. I want you and Chance to be comfortable in your new home." Gently, he nudged her up off the couch. He liked the idea of her staying in his quarters, living with him, sharing their bond. She and Chance would be safe, provided for, and protected by the baddest vamps in the country.

"Ok." Candace hadn't said anything about staying in the compound permanently. She really hadn't thought about it. She was living in the moment. It was all she had. Staying on, living with others of her kind was the best bet for her. But, what about what was best for Chance? She worried that the more he hung around the brothers. The more likely he'd be to complete the trials and become one of them.

Candace didn't bother with refuting Will's assumption. The atmosphere was already charged with emotion and she didn't want to add to it. She shuffled into her bedroom, pretending not to notice the crumpled bed or Marcus's scent on her sheets. The thought of his suffering and loneliness sprung forth a fresh deluge of tears.

She ran her fingers over her things. Her things. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she'd seen them. It might has well have been. So much had changed in the matter of a few months and her clothes, her knickknacks, her toiletries, and baubles no longer held the same meaning for her now as they had the last time she'd been in this room.

Will loaded Candace's personal items into the back of the SUV. Trying to arrange the rag tag assortment of boxes and bags to get the maximum benefit out of the small space. The glow of approaching headlights cut through the darkness as a car eased to a halt along the curb. Will bristled with renewed rage, waiting for Marcus to climb out of the passenger seat. He had a few things he'd like to say to the guy, man to man, before Candace got involved.

"Well Lucy, looks like you've got some 'splainin' to do." Lance whistled low under his breath at the sight of Will. Will was not a happy camper. If his wide stance and hardened glare were anything judge by. Marcus had a lot of explaining to do. Once Will was done with him, he'd have to face Dane. Lance was suddenly very glad he wasn't in the guy's shoes and was staying behind in the city.

The guy seemed decent enough. Marcus had been nothing but respectful to him and to the donor he'd fed from. Lance didn't know what kind of trouble the guy was in. And it didn't matter as long as Marcus kept his problems in his own backyard and the mess didn't filter onto Lance's lawn.

"Yeah," Marcus said, acknowledging Lance's statement. He composed himself to face Will and Candace. With a deep breath, he climbed out of the passenger side and his feet landed on the curb. He walked over to the warrior expecting to get his ass handed to him. Instead, Will glared down at him in the silent promise of retribution.