Dawn's Promise

Candace stroked Chance's hair. "Yeah baby, I know." She forced a smile and pressed her lips to his cheeks. She wanted to believe Will and the others had a damned good reason for traumatizing her son.

"You all right kid?" Patrick grinned down at Chance. "Just needed to hit the reset button, that's all." He grabbed Chance by the shoulders, easing him up into a sitting position. "Welcome to the club," Patrick said, patting him on the back.

"Don't call me kid," Chance grumbled. He was still swimming in a confusing surreal world. Half-convinced that he was delusional. Chance was still in shock, fighting the waves of dizziness and blackness swimming in the corners of his vision. "You're not any older than I am."

Patrick cut loose a deep laugh, " Shows what you know, KID." He looked up at Candace and pulled a blanket free from the back of the couch to wrap around Chance's shoulders. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do for shock victims? Keep them warm? The kid was a little green around the gills and looked like he was going to puke. But, otherwise he'd come through his little revelation mostly unscathed. His heartbeat was nice and steady.

"Chance, let's get you to bed, you've had a long day." Candace said slowly lifting her son onto his unsteady legs. He felt so light in her arms, so fragile.

"Mom, I don't understand." Chance was too weak to balk as she secured an arm around his waist, practically dragging him down a long hallway.

"I know honey, I know." Candace cooed soothingly. She led Chance through the doorway to the nearest bedroom. A very worried Will walked a few paces behind her. She gently guided Chance to the edge of the bed, tugging his shirt over his head. "Mom is here, baby," she whispered. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Mom," Chance sighed. The word was sheer paradise on his lips. He yielded to the warm fingers that guided him down, nestling him into the covers. None of this was happening. There were no such things as vampires. He had eaten something bad. Had some kind of a breakdown from the stress of school, work, and trying to find his mom. He'd dreamed everything. She wasn't really here. He'd dreamed her up. And this part of the dream was a happy one he wasn't willing to let go of just yet. "Stay with me." He sighed as his lids drooped heavily.

"Of course, honey." She knelt down at the side of the bed, running her fingers through the deep walnut of his hair. He looked so small, innocent, so much like he did when he was a little boy. "We're together again. Mom isn't going anywhere." She eased a breath as his eyes sank closed and didn't reopen. "We'll never be apart, ever again. I promise."

She smiled up at Will, patting his hand as he rested it lightly on her shoulder. Candace was still mad as hell at him for scaring the shit out of their son. But, concern for her little boy overrode the need to yell. She had a very, very long time to berate Will for his unacceptable behavior. "It'll all be better in the morning," she whispered to her son. She stayed, crouched by Chance's bed, unwilling to let go of his hand.

Chapter 11

Dane buried his nose deep into his wife's thick main of rich brown hair, the color of dark chocolate and nuzzled her neck. "Babe, I'm sorry about the honeymoon. Can you ever forgive me?" He inhaled her floral scent and trapped it in his lungs. Easing a sigh from his parted lips, he exhaled in contentment. She was his eye of the storm. Without her his life would be one relentless hurricane.

Chris smiled, patting Dane on the head. "There's nothing to forgive. We've got the rest of our lives together. Surely, we can fit a honeymoon in there somewhere." She ran her fingers along his finely sculpted jaw, feeling the tightness of the muscles underneath. Despite her calming influence, he was still rigid and tense. "How did it go?"

Dane chuckled and ran his cheek along the curve of her neck, marking her like a cat. "We almost sent the poor kid into shock." Not everything in his life was easy. Hell, nothing was easy. But, Chris made it tolerable. He still didn't know what to think about Will's son.

A part of him was envious that Will had the opportunity the brothers had missed out on. A part of him was grateful that he wasn't in Will's shoes and didn't have the burden of trying to explain a lifetime's worth of absence to Chance. And a part of him was angry. Will was so young when he entered the brotherhood to begin his training. Impulsive, as the young are known to be. Unseasoned, and so ready to embrace his destiny and willing to leave his old life behind, he hadn't bothered to consider what he was giving up. Or had he? No, he hadn't. Dane refused to believe otherwise. Will was a boy at the time, barely nineteen. But, he already had the makings of a good man. He wouldn't have abandoned Candace and his son, had he known.

"Shock?" Chris clucked her tongue at him. "How'd you do that?" She relished the warmth of her husband's embrace. The quickening of her pulse and the spread of heat through her body reminded her of how newly wedded they were. Making love to Dane would have to wait. She was curious about their new arrivals.

Dane told her the story editing out some of the more gory parts, knowing Chris wouldn't approve of Will's tactics. "The kid's got something. I'll give you that." Dane admired the boy's determination and his hard edge. He was brave. "I think he could be one of us."

Chris gasped, "You think he should face the trials?"

"Yes. The kid has potential." Dane exhaled closing his eyes wearily. He eased down on the bed, resting his head on the stack of soft silky pillows. Pulling Chris down beside him, he snuggled against her and felt the wash of calm she induced in him by her very presence beside him soothe his addled mind.

"Are you going to talk to Will?"

"I don't think I need to. He's already figured it out." Dane would never ask Will to risk his son's life in the trials. The sacrifice would not be his to make and although the kid had the makings of a great warrior. He didn't feel it was his place to ask.

Most of the brothers were related, albeit indirectly, they were family, direct descendants of the Great Father's mortal children. Recruited by the Great Father and his brother, the Prophet, personally. Will was a very distant cousin. And Chance even more distantly related, so distant he wouldn't be considered related at all. But, the calling was in his blood, the same as it was in Will's and in his. Destiny bound the boy to them.

"What about the others? What are you going to do about them?" Chris stared out into the darkness of the room. There had to be something she could do to help the rogues. She thought about what she was like when Dane and the others found her and introduced her to his life. She had been so frightened, so alone. She couldn't imagine what she would have become if they hadn't come along. She might have ended up exactly like them. Lost.

"I don't know yet." Dane's eyes slid shut. Soothed and relaxed, his body curled around his mate's. He didn't want to think about Chance, Candace, Neil, and Marcus. He didn't want to think about the problems waiting for him when he opened his eyes again. He just wanted these brief moments of solace with his wife in his arms. And he wanted to dream of the happy future, he wasn't sure he could guarantee any of them.

******

Janine paced through the house, fluffing the throw pillows on the couch and watching the dust float on the rays of morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. Another day. She'd been stuck at Alex's parents house for days. Endless, boring days with nothing to do besides wind skeins of yarn into balls for Leigh and listen to Alexander snore from his perch on the recliner. This place was Dullsville. And she was about to go nuts.

The minute the rogues showed up on the radar, she'd been whisked out of the compound and sequestered here for her safety. Ha! Obviously, Patrick didn't know how dangerous she was when she was bored. And lately, her mind had, had plenty of time to wander and come up with hundreds of ways to get her into trouble. Dejectedly, she flopped on the bed and rummaged through her purse. Her fingers passed over her empty wallet and settled on her address book. Determined not to open it and call any of the numbers scrawled on the pages, she zipped her handbag and draped the strap over the footboard of her bed.

There were dozens of guys she could call. Men who would take her out and show her a good time. And they had. Unfortunately, most of them expected something in return. And in the past, she'd been more than willing to show them a very good time in exchange for an evening of wining, dining, and dancing. She hadn't been unhappy, but not extremely happy, with her life back then. Her relationships with men were casual. Based mostly on convenience and the mutual satisfaction of carnal need. Nothing wrong with that, but, she'd wanted more. Patrick was complicated. Perhaps, too complicated, and she was beginning to believe she'd never break through.

He was always so careful with her, too careful, and way, way, too pushy for his own good. So terrified that he'd hurt her that he inadvertently had. Not physically, no never like that. But, her heart broke a little more day-by-day, each time he, in his steely resolve to keep her safe, pushed her away. Maybe, casual was better. Simple. A night of passion, a peck on the cheek afterwards, and a vague promise to call...sometime, so easy and uncomplicated. So unlike Patrick. Loving him was hard. Perhaps, the hardest thing she'd ever done.

Janine flopped back on the bed and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. Leigh, Alex's mom was out somewhere. Probably planning a charity event for the upcoming Spring Planting Festival in April. The sound of Alex's dad's snoring rumbled over the monotone chatter from the TV set in the living room. Winter had finally settled in and the bitter cold snap had driven him into the house instead of his usual hang out in the barn. God, she was bored.

She got it. The whole 'I'm a big scary vampire thing' was wearing a little thin though. Patrick and she were physical. They'd explored and touched every inch of one another. Danced around the edges, taken and given pleasure as much as they could with the limits Patrick placed on them. Sure, it was nice. NICE. But, it was like settling for Spam when what you really craved was steak. She'd been trying for months to get him over himself, to ease his worries, and convince him to take the final step in their relationship, and seal the deal. She flaunted her body around him, showing plenty of skin. But, he never caved. Even when she brought him to the brink with her hand or her mouth, he still held back and didn't let go, not completely.

If she didn't love him as much as she did, she would have given up and packed her bags, headed back to the city to pick up her life exactly where she'd left off. She was a woman she never wanted to be. Her life had the makings for the lyrics to a bad country song. She had it bad for him. And as much as she wanted to walk away, she kept hanging on. And for what? Not sex. Anyone could have sex. The address book tucked into her purse was proof of that. No, she wasn't holding out for sex with Patrick. Although, it would be mind blowing, it wasn't what she really wanted. She held on because she wanted to hear those three little words that hovered forever restrained on the tip of his tongue finally spoken.

Patrick stood on the other side of Janine's closed bedroom door. His hand rested on the knob. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Through their link, he could sense them colliding off one another and spinning in the abyss of her head. Keeping her wasn't really fair. If he were a better man, he'd cut her loose and let her live her life. She'd been there for him, pulling him back out of the mire of his worst self-destructive tendencies. And what had he given her in return? Bits and pieces, just enough to pique her interest and soften her tender and already too soft heart. She wanted so much more. She deserved so much better than him. And he had yet to deliver a damned thing of worth. Why she stuck around, he didn't know. Yes, he did. She stuck around because she loved him. And didn't that make him the biggest bastard of them all.

He wished to God he could kill those damned rogues all over again. Maybe then he could assuage himself of the guilt. Finally be rid of it for once and for all. Janine understood, but she really didn't understand. She'd never killed anything worse than a housefly. She didn't know how he felt or the guilt that dragged him down over taking a life. What happened wasn't Janine's fault, although, he punished her for it as thoroughly as he punished himself. It sure as hell wasn't Nikki's fault. She'd offered up her life, willingly, to save his. And he'd drunk it down in greedy gulps.

Even after death, Nikki had found her way back from the spirit world to absolve him of his guilt. He thought he could put the past behind him. But, it was always with him. Staring him in the face in the form of Janine's trusting wide blue eyes, in the pounding of her heartbeat, and in the very essence of her humanity. He knew what Janine needed. It was the one thing he couldn't give. He couldn't say the words she wanted to hear. He couldn't perform the act that she wanted so desperately for him to perform. She wanted him to love her in body and in spirit. Although he did, the confession died on his lips and the act restrained by his body. Ah, the flesh was weak. And he wanted to give into its cravings. He really, really did. But, his heart was strong. And it beat, for her, his savior. He took a deep breath and opened the door, damning himself as he stepped inside.

"Patrick!" Janine jumped off the bed and into his arms. "You've come to rescue me!" She giggled wildly as he spun her in a circle. "I've been stuck here for days without cable. I don't know how Alexander and Leigh do it!" She cursed her bubby, almost ditzy gushing at his presence. My god, if she had a tail it would be wagging. Shamed by her exuberance, she hastily scribbled a note thanking Leigh and Alexander for their hospitality...again. And went to the guest bedroom, her home away from home, not that she had one, and began packing her bag. "Let's go."

Patrick chuckled, taking the duffel bag from Janine's hand. She gushed at his presence, so eager, like a lonely puppy at the shelter. He had missed her, more than he thought. Her eagerness, her bubbly personality, her enthusiasm for life was exactly what he needed. She kept him on track. Maybe, if he hadn't opened that door and looked into those way too blue eyes, he could have been satisfied to wallow in his self-loathing. But, one glance at her, one spark of heat from her love, and one peck from her soft lips on his mouth and he was gone, lost in the overwhelming, all encompassing joy that was Janine. She made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Alive.

"Janine, there's going to be some rules." Patrick warned her that the rogues were still at the compound and she wouldn't be able to wander unescorted through the halls. She was confined to what the brothers called the human corridor, which consisted of the rec room, the kitchen, and her bedroom, and maybe, his. Just because things seemed to be going ok, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not when it came to her. Never when it came to her.

"Ok I got it." Janine was practically bouncing with excitement at the thought of being alone with Patrick. Her resolve was as solid as ever. She was going to take this big bad vampire down, bring him to his knees, and make him beg. Show him who was boss. Valentine's Day was around the corner and she had a few surprises in mind for her reluctant Romeo. The address book in her purse and her earlier musings took a backseat to the overwhelming joy of just being near him. "Did you miss me?"

Patrick chuckled under his breath and escorted Janine through the living room to the idling SUV in the driveway. She was always trying to worm the truth out of him. Get him to speak his feelings. He was a guy and he didn't do feelings and he certainly wouldn't admit to them. "It was quiet without you. Almost dull."

Janine climbed into the SUV and fluffed up her hair as Patrick walked around to the driver's side. Well, as far as admissions of love went, his was certainly lack luster. But, it was probably as close to getting him to admitting his feelings as she'd ever get. Dull huh? Quiet huh? Well, she'd see what she could do about that. More determined than ever, she smiled sweetly at him as he slid behind the wheel and shifted the gear into reverse.

******

Alex stared blankly at the empty sheet of paper. A vision was coming. She could feel it. Ever since the moment of her conversion, she was the Goddess's mouthpiece. Alex clutched her pencil not sure of what kind of cryptic message would be imparted to her today. Would it be another piece of history or a glimpse of history yet to come?

She hated the bone chilling cold that seemed to permeate every cell and nerve fiber when the visions hovered on the verge of revelation. "Hurry up," she hissed miserably, shivering at the sensation of ice flowing through her veins.

This time, there were no words, just an image. Hastily, Alex sketched what she saw. It was the man. The one they'd just brought in. The human. His back was turned to her in the vision; warrior's markings woven intricately in ink decorated the broad expanse of flesh in a trail winding around his ribs and down his spine.

After the vision left her, Alex stared down at the paper and the scribbled lines of her drawing and sucked in a deep breath. Not sure if it was dread or gratitude that seized her thoughts. Chance was destined to become a warrior. A Son. And she wasn't sure if she'd wish that fate on anyone. It was an unfair destiny. Whether it was chosen or not, it was still unfair.

Alex tore the sheet from the notebook and crumpled it in her fist. She didn't always share her visions with anyone. Sometimes, they were her burden to keep. And she wanted nothing to do with influencing Chance or the outcome of his destiny. The pain was still too new, the loss still too heavy in her heart to bear. Lucien had died because of what he was. His decision to become a warrior had ended badly, painfully, and with the certain finality that came with the path he chose. Warriors died. They bled the battlefields red with their lives and their deaths. And she wanted no part of it.

Chapter 12

Candace sat on the edge of the bed gently running her fingers through Chance's dark hair. When he was fast asleep he looked more like the little boy he'd once been than the man he'd become. Hell, he was twenty, almost twenty-one. But, to her he still was her little boy, always would be. With his eyes closed and his face slack with sleep, it was easy for her to see traces of his father in his features. In the slant of his eyes, the curve of his cheek, the hard angle of his jaw, and the heaviness of his brow, all reminded her so much of Will.

Will stood behind Candace, staring down at his son from over her shoulder. Chance was beautiful, a miracle that left him speechless and humbled. How had he managed to create something so perfect? In his sleep, Chance looked so much like Candace. He had her nose, the curve of her mouth, and her chin. There were traces of him in Chance too. In the jaw, the eyes, and the thick, dark, expressive brows, furrowed in his sleep. So much of him in Chance, there was no doubt that he was his father.

Will placed a hand on Candace's thin shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. The years had been kind to her. She was still just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe, more beautiful now than she had been at the age of nineteen. Petite and slender, her girlish shape had filled out with a woman's soft curves. Her shorter hairstyle showed off the graceful arc of her neck. Faint laugh lines etched the corners of her mouth and her eyes. He was glad to see the evidence that she'd spent more years laughing than crying. "He's..."