Dawn's Shadow

Chris gasped and sputtered as Dane forced his forearm into her mouth. His blood trickled across her tongue. Although, she was repulsed at the thought of drinking another's blood, her body shivered with delight in response to its' rich sweetness. The taste! The power of it, elemental and raw, ran through her body. Dizzied and so hungry, instinct overrode her revulsion and she latched on, worrying at the wound with the pointed tips of her new fangs to hasten the flow and break open the skin that stubbornly tried to heal.

She was drinking him. Drinking every part of him, his cells, his very life, and it was so damned good. So good. The images she saw flashing through her mind didn't make much sense. Random places and people, random snippets from a past that wasn't hers, but was his. He'd lived so long. Seen so much. Felt too much. Dane was a protector, just as she had expected. But, the depths of his emotions, the fury in which he loved, was something she couldn't have anticipated. Moaning heavily against the flesh pressed to her lips, she drank, swallowing him, all of him, down.

Dane hissed, feeling the burn as Chris latched on with the needlelike points of her fangs and worked at the tip of his wound with the warm, moist heat of her tongue. Good Lord! It felt...good, as if she were licking and taunting him someplace else. Someplace much...lower. Good God, he'd give her every last drop that he had if she'd keep up the pressure of her lips on his...DAMN! He had to stop thinking like that and get his mind off his "little head" and back into his "big head" where it belonged. Before he lost control like a schoolboy and did something to embarrass them both.

He could feel Chris's energy and strength build, fueled by his blood. His fingers relaxed their grip on the back of her scalp and began running through the rich, maple colored depths of her hair. The strands were soft and sleek, like silk across the pads of his fingertips. He knew feeding her would be intimate. But, he hadn't expected it to affect him so deeply. His fangs weren't the only organ engorged with blood. He was so hard it hurt. And she was so soft and pliant, molded into a warm bundle against his body. His hands had a mind of their own, not stopping at the ends of her hair, but traveling down across the small of her back to cup the sweet curve of her butt.

Dane moved to the cot, bringing Chris down to stretch out beside him. He let her take what she needed from him. He was content to lay here and run his free hand along the lush curve of her butt, the gentle slope of her waist, and the smooth, creamy skin of her exposed neck. He bent his head, nuzzling the sweet spot right behind her ear and gently raked the tip of a fang down the tender skin. He shouldn't be doing this. She was taking nourishment, as weak as it was, from him and he, the reason behind his desire to taste her, was less than honorable.

He wanted to form a link between them, just to see what was going on in that head of hers. Was she a friend or a foe? Did she...did she feel anything for him but contempt? Blood welled to the surface of the scratch and as much as he knew he shouldn't, he dragged his tongue across the crimson pearls. The sensation of her blood on the tip of his tongue sent waves of dizzy pleasure zinging along his body. Stifling a moan, he reluctantly let the broken skin knit closed.

Dane tried to control his thoughts, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against them. He was bonded psychically to his brothers. What he was doing and what he felt was his alone. It was an experience he didn't care to share. He felt the sting of pleasure, not his, hers, rip through his mind and body. The bond between the two of them, and just the two of them had formed.

Chris opened her eyes. Her body felt as if it were going to burst. She felt so alive. Newly found strength coursed through her limbs. She felt Dane's warm hands skim down her back, stirring a wave of sensation. As she drank from him, she became aware of a deeper need, something more elemental than her need for blood. She wanted this man on a level so basic, so raw, and physical, it hurt. Abruptly, she withdrew her lips from the wound in his forearm and wiggled from underneath the crushing weight of his thigh thrown over her hip. Roughly, he jerked her body tightly into place, pinning it against him with his bulk. Before she could react, before she realized she didn't want him to kiss her, his mouth descended upon her lips, his tongue invading the space in her mouth, sweetened with the taste of her blood on its tip.

Dane drew back at the sharp sting of pain as Chris's palm connected with his cheek in a hard smack. His eyebrows knitted together in a frown and he sat up, rubbing the burning spot of flesh with his fingertips. His blood had given her strength and the slap had been fueled with the full force of that strength. He huffed and jumped off the cot onto his feet. She was right to smack the shit out of him. He'd let things go too far. He'd warned her about her instincts while being far too assuming that he had control of his own. "This will not happen again," he grumbled under his breath.

Chris stared at her fingers, still stinging from the force of smacking Dane. She'd never hit anyone in her life and she'd smacked him silly, over what? A kiss? One she'd liked every bit as much as he had. No, it wasn't the kiss that had startled her so badly. But, the taste of her blood, HER BLOOD, on his tongue. Or, maybe it wasn't as much the fact that he drank from her, as it was his thoughts. The lusty, passionate whispers she overheard in his mind. She was embarrassed. She was outraged that he could think such thoughts about a total stranger...about her. Perhaps, it was more to the point that she wanted him to do them, each and every one of them, to her. And she'd been so shocked by her response to him that she'd reacted and simply lashed out.

Scowling, at the soft, tinkling sound of feminine snickers, Dane shifted his eyes from a very shocked Chris to a very amused Robbie. How long had she been standing there in the doorway watching the two of them? What had she seen with those big, green eyes, twinkling with humor?

"Dane, you've really got to work on those people skills." Robbie teased, chuckling at the humbled and chagrined expression on Dane's face. He looked like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And their visitor, lovely as she was, didn't look much better, shifting uncomfortably to the other end of the cot, as far away from Dane as she could get. "I thought our guest could use some gentler company for a while." She ran her gaze along Chris's disheveled appearance. "And a shower, and maybe, some fresh clothes."

Robbie could sympathize with the woman. She was still getting used to the whole vampire gig herself and understood how overwhelming even the simplest things could be. "Girl time. Out," she insisted, shooing Dane toward the door. He hesitated, staring down at her with a deep frown on his face. He was such a control freak. Such a guy. As if she couldn't handle a newly turned vampire. He didn't get it. Sometimes, there were ways, things that a girl could only talk to another girl about. "Its ok, now go." She pushed him out of the entry and into the makeshift hallway with a huff. "Hi, I'm Robbie," she said, extending a hand to the confused, frightened woman on the cot.

Gingerly, Chris accepted the handshake, grabbing onto Robbie's dainty hand. "Chris," she replied. Robbie had one of those body types that Chris could only dream about: slender, petite, almost tiny really. The way Chris would be if she ever got around to losing the fifteen pounds forever on her "to do" list. Robbie wasn't devastatingly beautiful, which put Chris somewhat at ease. Robbie was cute, a pixie on a flower petal kind of cute, with a light sprinkling of brownish-peach freckles across her nose and cheeks and hair that hung in bright red ringlets just past her narrow shoulders, and wide, round eyes the color of emeralds. She would have been unimposing, easily dismissed by Chris as a non-threat if not for the energy spilling out of her and the tiny points of her fangs, peeking out from behind pearlesque lips. "It's really true?"

"What? That Dane can be a big ogre sometimes?" Robbie grinned and tried to dance around the line of questioning that was inevitably to follow. She felt that those questions were best left answered by someone else, someone with more experience than she, who could explain them better. Loosely, she wrapped an arm around Chris's shoulders and guided her out of the room. "Don't worry about Dane. He is a teddy bear. All the guys are," she said with a soft snicker as if she were letting Chris in on some big secret. "You'll see. Now, lets get you taken care of."

Chapter 9

Dane pulled the rough wool blanket over his eyes trying to create some much-needed privacy. His nerves were raw and on edge. He tried not to think about Chris and his reaction to her. He shared blood with his brothers on occasion and although the experience wasn't entirely repugnant, it'd never affected him like that before. He had never felt the urge, not an urge, but an undeniable drive to kiss any of the sisters and definitely none of the brothers during a blood exchange. Why was she so different?

"You got it bad Brother." Patrick chuckled, dangling a set of keys in his fingers. Dane growled in response, clutching the blanket tightly over his head, which made Patrick laugh even harder. Dane's case of blue balls was just that damn funny. The guy needed to tap into that little pot of honey before he became absolutely intolerable to live with.

"Just returning these, I don't think she'll need them for a while," he said, tossing the keys onto the blanket. He never turned down the opportunity to antagonize Dane, or anyone else for that matter. "You should go get you a piece of that, Bro. She is a pretty girl. All those curves. Too bad I'm taken or I'd think about hitting that myself," Patrick teased. "Imagine what she could do with that mouth of hers. Damn. That's the stuff of wet dreams. I bet she...,"

"Keep out of my head tracker," Dane grumbled through the blanket. Patrick was one of the best of all the brothers at getting in to someone's head and ferreting their secrets out. And Dane did not need any reminders of her mouth or any mentioning of those lush lips. The trouble was that his mind was already full of images of her mouth, her scent, and the softness of her lips.

"Ask me her full name. It's kind of funny really," Patrick baited Dane eager to keep up the banter. He was off duty and the tunnels were kind of boring. There wasn't really anything else to do. And he needed something to keep his mind off of Janine. Lately, it was getting harder and hard to keep his hands to himself and off of her. Maybe, it was the boredom. Maybe, it was the cramped quarters and the narrow spaces. Maybe, it was that she was finally getting to him. Either way, he wasn't quite ready to take the big leap.

"Go away. Find someone else to torment." Dane retorted, flipping the edge of the blanket back to glare at Patrick. Apparently, it was his hard scowl or Janine's scent that had Patrick quickly backtracking up the tunnels. Good. With a relieved sigh, he pulled the wool blanket over his head and closed his eyes. He wasn't tired, but he was bone weary. So much, it felt like the entire world, hung on his shoulders.

Chris needed live human blood soon. His blood had helped. Animal blood would help a little more. But, she needed a donor. And the problem was that the Sons were desperately short of donors. All the humans had been so vested in the brother's recovery that there wasn't an untapped vein among them. Humans needed time to recover. Chris needed time to accept. Not much though. Alex needed time to move beyond her loss. And he needed some down time before he faced the next unwanted task.

******

Janine clutched a lantern in her hand, drawn toward the sound of Patrick's voice. She supposed there were worse things than living in a maze of underground mine tunnels with a bunch of overgrown, fanged boy scouts. At least, she was sharing a room with Patrick. Living out of a gym bag, creeping around in the dark like a mole, and peeing in the subterranean equivalent of an outhouse, but hey, their relationship was finally going somewhere. Sort of.

He was strictly hands off. He tucked her into bed with a swift peck on the cheek and then disappeared off into the tunnels. But, as far as anything else, no go. And that was fine, for now. Despite the makeshift shower and gallons of shower gel, she could feel the constant layer of grime, sooty, black dust that coated everything, including her skin. The air was perpetually dank and cold. She dressed in baggy, androgynous layers of clothing to combat the chill. Needless to say, it was not a good look for her. And sometimes she swore, that as far as Patrick was concerned, she was just one of the guys.

Dejected, she continued following the sound of Patrick's footsteps, deeper and deeper into the tunnels. He had to know she was looking for him. He could smell her a mile away. She couldn't find him because he chose not to be found. And she kept chasing him through the tunnels, which had to end somewhere, because she chose to keep seeking him out. One day, surely one day, she'd catch him.

Was it worth it to continue playing this game? The constant cat and mouse game she played with Patrick? Was it worth it to be schlepping around in these god awful tunnels in god awful clothes that were two sizes too big? Her inner convictions told her it was. But, sometimes, her practical side told her it wasn't and she should get out while she still could. Before, she risked even more of her fragile heart.

Janine felt kind of bad for leaving Alex behind. Especially for these grit infested, dank walls of rock. She imagined this was kind of how a turd felt moving through the large intestine of some lumbering beast. But, with Alex moving back into her parent's house and refusing to sleep in the bed she'd shared with Lucien during one of their many overnight stays. The guest room and the narrow full-sized bed Janine slept in had gotten pretty crowded.

Alex seemed ok on the outside. Superficially, where everyone saw what they wanted to see. Janine could see the strain of Lucien's loss, the deep emotional storms her best friend weathered so deep beneath the surface. She wanted to help Alex. She just didn't know how. There wasn't much to be sunny or upbeat about these days. It was hard for Janine to find a bright side to anything when she was surrounded by so much darkness.

Chapter 10

Chris exhaled as the torrents of hot water ran down the length of her hair and across her back. The makeshift shower sputtered, dousing her with uneven streams of sometimes hot, sometimes, icy, cold prickles of spray. But, she didn't mind. It was heaven to get out of that cramped cell and to feel clean again. "So tell me more about this place and these people," she said to Robbie through the plastic shower curtain.

Robbie answered her questions as truthfully as she could. Keeping secrets from Chris would only serve to fuel her fears. She tried to keep the subject away from The Sons as much as possible. It seemed Chris was as reluctant to divulge information about her former life, as Robbie was to spill the secrets of her present one. "So your name is Chris. Is that short for something? Oh you'd better wrap it up. That's only a twenty-gallon water heater. And I'm not sure how much juice is in the generators."

Chris sighed reluctantly turning the wrenches that served as on/off valves. "Yes, it is. Chris is the name I go by though. My real name is too embarrassing for words." She took the towel from Robbie's hand and started to dry off, shivering in the cool dankness of the earthen and rock walls that surrounded her.

"Well, C'mon, what's it short for?" Robbie pressed.

"I'd rather not say." Chris wrapped the fluffy, white robe around her damp body, cinching it tightly at her waist. "Needless to say, my parents thought it was cute. But, they weren't the ones stuck with it for the rest of their lives."

"Christine?" Robbie hazarded a guess.

"I wish." Chris replied, rolling her eyes. "Look, I appreciate what you're doing for me." She forced a shiver and clutched the ends of the robe tight over her chest. "But, I'm freezing." She was eager for a diversion from the subject of her real name. After years of endless taunting, she had finally demanded to be called Chris, plain Chris.

"Oh, sorry," Robbie smiled sheepishly. She motioned Chris forward as she shone the flashlight down the dark tunnel. "I just got so excited when I heard another female was joining our group."

Chris trotted to keep pace with Robbie, reluctant to let the narrow beam of the flashlight too far out of her sight. "I'm not joining anything."

Robbie ignored Chris' statement and guided her down the winding and twisting pathway. She knew it would be a long time before Chris could leave, if she ever could. Besides, Robbie was having one of her feelings. She suspected that Chris would become a permanent member. Eventually. "Here we are." She shone the flashlight around the cramped and cluttered chamber. "I haven't had time to straighten up yet," she mumbled apologetically. Reaching into a cardboard box that contained most of her life, Robbie fished out a pair of sweats and a faded sweatshirt. "Sorry, I don't have anything better. But, these will fit."

"Thanks." Chris said. Robbie turned her back to give her a measure of privacy as she dropped the robe and hurriedly dressed in the sweats. They were soft, gently worn, smelling of fabric softener and sunny days. And clean. Once dressed, she took a brush from Robbie's hand and began sorting through her wild tangle of wet hair. "How much longer are you planning to hold me here against my will?"

Robbie smiled almost bitterly at Chris. "You aren't a prisoner. You are here for your own protection. It's too dangerous for you, for everyone, out there." She sank onto one of the twin cots John Mark had pushed side by side into a temporary double bed. Chris didn't understand what was happening to her and how much danger she was in. She didn't know about the rogue Dane had killed in the woods. Or how, if she failed to comply with the law, she'd meet the same fate. "When you tasted Dane's blood how did that feel?"

Chris shuddered at the memory. His blood had been the best thing she had ever tasted. The energy she drew from it was intoxicating. Not just the memory of his blood, but him, his passion, occupied her every waking thought. Idly, she shrugged at Robbie and returned to the task of brushing her hair free of tangles.

"You aren't safe to be around humans right now. You can't control your hunger. You would become an addict.. Your hunger would never be satisfied. You'd kill over and over again. But, there are ways," Robbie said with a long pause. "We can teach you."

Chris lowered her trembling body onto the cot beside Robbie, winding her arms around her legs and pulling them close to her body so that her chin rested on her knees. "This isn't some kind of a dream? Some kind of brainwashing?"

"No, Chris. This is real, very real. The hunger is already building inside of you. Can't you feel it?" Robbie sighed. "Whoever did this to you, for whatever reason." She stopped as Chris cut her off.

"I know who, I just don't understand why."

Robbie patted Chris's arm. "The who and why aren't important now. This is your reality and you have to learn to deal with it." She stood gracefully, turning to smile down at Chris. A gesture meant to put the woman at ease and extend friendship. "It's all up to you now. Just know that you can trust us and that you're safe here, with us. I'd better get you back."