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Dawn Forever

By: msnomer68



Prologue

Patrick had never wanted to kill something so badly in his life. Anything would do. Needless to say, he didn't handle what he perceived as betrayal well. And jealousy, he handled even worse. Seeing her in his arms, watching him consoling her as she cried on his shoulder, wasn't that a bitch! He'd all but practically driven her into another man's arms. And bastard took full advantage of it... of her...because of him. 

He blazed a trail of destruction through the woods. Not giving a damn about the natural fauna and all that dumb shit that had to be preserved for future generations. Screw 'em. The need to destroy was consuming him from the inside out. And something, even if it was a tree or a woodland critter he'd startled out of its hidey hole was better than taking his rage out on the person who truly deserved it. And no, the object of his rage wasn't who he thought it'd be. He had only one person to blame for his major fuck up, himself. 

And yeah, things were fucked up. Royally. He was a century old and you'd think he'd learn something...eventually. Hell no, he'd earned himself a permanent seat on the short bus. Call him dense. But, in all these years, he hadn't learned a damned thing. Yes, yes, yes, it was his fault. And yes, a bigger man might swallow his pride and let it go. Let her go. Patrick was not that man. And that little fucker was going to pay. Big time. 

The current pop culture psychobabble might call his current predicament an opportunity for personal growth. Whatthefuckever. Dr. Phil didn't know shit. Patrick was pissed. He was hurt. And he had no intention of standing on the sidelines with his thumb stuck up his ass while another man made the moves on his woman. Not happening. Ever.

He skulked through the woods with murder on his mind. His thoughts fixated on the one thing he couldn't have. Janine. There were reasons, dozens and dozens of reasons, all of them good, why he couldn't take the plunge and seal the deal. He ticked those reasons off on his mental checklist at least a hundred times a day. It was too bad he couldn't make them stick in his gray matter when push came to shove. Logic didn't seem to apply to affairs of the heart. His heart and his head were definitely not in sync when it came to her. She made him bat shit insane and pushed all of his good intentions straight off the side of a fucking cliff.

Patrick walked the familiar path to her front door and growled low in his throat at what he saw. Damn, did the woman go straight for his balls or what? He crouched in the bushes downwind and out of sight, watching the spectacle on her front porch. Rage didn't begin to cover what he felt. Murder was too kind of a word for what he intended to do when he finally got his hands on the fucker too engrossed in a lip lock to notice they weren't alone. 

Janine once claimed she was an all or nothing kind of person. Fine. She was about to find out that he was exactly the same way. Only his version of all or nothing operated just a little bit differently than hers. 









Chapter 1

"It really was a nice wedding wasn't it?" Desperate to make small talk and cover her embarrassment at bawling all over him, Janine posed the question, just to have something to fill the silence. The downpour of her tears was over, for the moment. And she was glad for the reprieve. Bryce made for a nice distraction from her troubles. The man had broad shoulders. She ought to know. She'd sniveled and cried, like a fool over a man who didn't love her, all over them. 

"It was. I really do wish them a happy life together." Bryce slowed the SUV, making the curve with expert precision. Something too fast to be an animal darted across the road, slicing through the wide beams of the headlights before disappearing into the darkness. He ground his teeth and stomped on the gas, sliding a sideways glance across the seat to Janine. Her eyes were fixed on her lap. Focused on her clenched fingers. She hadn't seen Patrick. Good. 

Bryce had no doubt the man was tracking them. As usual, Patrick seemed hell bent on making an ass of himself. When was the man going to get a clue when it came to this woman? He needed to give it up. He'd never make her happy. It was high time for Patrick to gracefully step out of the way and let someone else have the chance to try.  

Janine bit her lip, hesitating to ask the question. But, she was curious and her inquisitive nature knew no tact. And it gave her something to think about besides her heartbreak. Patrick and she were done, as he'd made abundantly clear at Anna's wedding reception. That simple fact, reiterated over and over again by his actions, was the reason for her whole crying jag in the first place. "You kind of had a thing for Anna didn't you?"

Bryce winced Janine's question. The woman went straight for the jugular. "I thought I did," he answered truthfully. Not so much now. Anna was a beautiful bride. And Toby would make a good husband. And their love for each other was nothing more than a painful reminder of what he didn't have. It hurt. But, he couldn't bring himself to begrudge their happiness. He hadn't moved fast enough to win her heart. As the saying went 'a day late and a dollar short' by the time he saw her in that light, she was already in love with Toby. And there was no changing that.

Not this time. He was done being the nice guy. Finished with being coy and subtle. This time, he was going all out to win the girl. And there was only one girl on his mind these days. Luckily, she was conveniently single and sitting in the seat beside him. All he had to do was erase any lingering traces of Patrick from her heart. Simple.  

He rolled down the window, letting the musty, cool, night breeze blow in. The fresh air did little to dampen the light summery scent filling the cab. Janine's essence did all sorts of things to him. Primarily, drive him crazy with forbidden thoughts. Torturous, fruitless thoughts he wished he didn't have, along with the ache that accompanied them. She was still in love with Patrick. And he'd have to play this right, if he even wanted a chance to win her away from him. Being pushy and letting her know exactly how deeply she affected him was not the way to her over. Janine needed romance. She was a hearts and flowers kind of girl and that was exactly why Patrick was skulking in the woods, brooding and alone, and he was the one sitting beside her instead. 

Janine looked up from her hands and studied Bryce. The dash cast a greenish glow on his features, highlighting the sardonic curve to his full lips. She hadn't expected his answer. Bryce obviously wasn't the kind of guy who wasted his time pining away for someone he couldn't have. He shook the dust from his feet and moved on. She should take a few pointers from him. Pouting over Patrick wasn't exactly healthy. And it sure as hell did nothing for her sanity. 

Janine knew first hand exactly how soft and seductive Bryce's mouth could be. She blushed, dismissing the wayward thoughts. She was exhausted and still must be a little delirious from the heat because the question was out of her mouth before she had a chance to really think about it. "And now?" Immediately, she regretted speaking her mind. Her question sounded too needy, too coy, and too encouraging. She wasn't quite ready to leap head first into the fire, especially when she was still sizzling in the pan. But, given Bryce's good looks, the thought was tempting.

"I've moved on," Bryce answered. Taking his gaze off the road for a moment, he glanced at Janine. She was staring at him. Her blue eyes were big and round and her kissable mouth formed a little 'O' as realization of what he'd said sank in. 

Janine quickly glanced away and stared out of the windshield. Subtle much? The intent of Bryce's statement didn't leave a whole of room for interpretation. She knew he was interested in her. The forbidden kiss they'd shared the night of Anna's bachelorette party pretty much summed that up. But, hearing him actually confess it, left her nervously toying with the hem of her skirt. She shrugged off his honesty with an over exaggerated wave of her hand to cover her nervousness. "You realized what you felt just friendship, blah, blah, blah?" Janine babbled dismissively.

"Something like that," Bryce answered tersely. Janine knew exactly what he was talking about. She had no idea how easily he could read her emotions. Her body gave so much away in the flush that spread up her neck to her cheeks. The subtle increase in her heart rate and the way her fingers nervously worked the hem of her skirt, clued him in. She might not be ready to one hundred percent forget about Patrick. Yet. But, he could change that. At least, leave her with no doubt about his intentions. He pressed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a halt at a stoplight. "Maybe, I've found someone else I'm interested in," he said, pinning her with his gaze. 

Bryce's directness startled her. She stared out the windshield, avoiding his gaze. For once, she found herself utterly speechless and at a loss for words. Deliberately, she smoothed her palms over her skirt and made an attempt to still her fingers to hide her shock. "The light is green," she said with a small voice. She didn't want to encourage him. Her life was very messy at the moment and cluttered by her feelings for Patrick. And until she sorted it out, she didn't want to lead anyone on. 

Bryce navigated the SUV through the deserted streets and pulled up in front of the white two-story bungalow that served as Janine's temporary home. He refused to believe that she'd never move back into the compound. She was such a people person and living here alone had to be hard on her. He slid into park, letting the engine idle. "You want me to check out the house?"

Janine shrank in the seat. She hated feeling so dependent and like such a baby. She had to get used to coming home alone and being totally on her own. She couldn't call a brother every time she got home after dark. "I'm good." She bit her lip and stared at the blackened windows. In her haste this morning she'd forgotten to leave a light on. And there was nothing she hated worse than coming home alone to a dark, empty house.

"I don't mind. I'd rather have you assured that you're safe and sound than spending the night pacing and jumping at every little thing that goes bump in the night." Pushiness was one of Janine's main complaints about Patrick. And yes, Bryce knew he was pushing his luck by turning off the ignition and pocketing the keys. But, he wasn't one to let any opportunity to be close to her pass him by.

"Usually, you guys are the things that go bump in the night," Janine snorted. Bryce was at the passenger side and opening her door before she could blink. Resigned that pushiness was just one of the less than admirable qualities common to all vampires, she took his hand and let him help her out of the SUV. 

"Good one Janine." Bryce splayed his fingers across the small of Janine's back, steadying her as she teetered precariously on the narrow heels of her sandals. The warmth of her skin radiated through the soft cotton of her turquoise colored sundress and played hell with his senses. He had all sorts of tactics he could employ to garner an invitation into her home. Not that it was necessary. That particular bit of folklore was pure bullshit. Gently, he worked the keys from her hand and guided her up the concrete porch steps. "I wouldn't be very chivalrous if I didn't at least walk you to the door."

Janine rolled her eyes and issued no further protest as he pulled her to a stop at the front door. Sometimes, guys were just guys. And Bryce was no exception. Chivalrousness aside, she couldn't help but appreciate his attempt to impress her. So what? Call her a girlie girl. She had a soft spot for male flattery. He did not take his hand from the small of her back as he worked the key in the lock and eased the door open. And now the awkward moment, which would it be? The good night kiss he so obviously wanted? Maybe, a friendly hug, which would require touching and holding her in his arms for a moment. Or a quick, utterly platonic handshake that seemed so out of place given the way they'd kissed the night before?  

Bryce opened the door and smiled down at Janine, running a finger along her jaw. The handle of the screen door dug into his hip and the hinges groaned piteously from the strain of being forced open wide enough to accommodate the two of them in the narrow space. The way she nervously tugged at her bottom lip with her top teeth was enough to make him come undone. He knew what he was going to do before he tilted her chin up and bent his head to do it. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to her lips, working a response out of her. The kiss was questioning and curious, anything but a gesture of mere friendship. 

Janine responded to the feel of Bryce's lips on hers. Standing on her tiptoes she returned the kiss. Doing her damnedest to keep it light and friendly and still manage to leave a bit of mystery hanging in the air between them. Wobbly and worn out from the very long day and the emotional roller coaster she'd been riding, she draped an arm around his neck and another around his waist, trying to keep herself upright before she toppled over out of sheer exhaustion.

Bryce took her gesture as a sign of interest and deepened the kiss. Teasing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and sliding in when they parted for him. Slowly he circled her tongue swabbing along its pink surface with his. He caught the tiny puff of breath as she exhaled. Interpreting the sign as encouragement and delight, he sped up the kiss, locking his arms around her waist and gently lifting her off her feet. Pressing their bodies tightly against one another.

Janine hesitated for a brief moment before giving fully into the kiss. She should stop Bryce before he really, really got the wrong idea. But, it felt so good to be held so tightly and with such care. He reveled in her kiss as if it were something tangible and precious, a rare gift to be savored. She wasn't ready for this or for him. Her heart was fractured into bits and Bryce sure as hell wasn't helping matters any with the effect his kiss had on her. His kiss only left her with more questions. Slowly and reluctantly, she tipped her chin, breaking the contact.

Bryce lowered Janine's feet gently to the porch and loosened his hold on her curves. He ran his hands along the graceful arch in her back and bent to kiss her forehead. The skin beneath his lips was slightly salty with the taste of summertime sweat. His lips curled into a smile at the gentle musk of her scent as evidence that she was not as immune to him as she pretended to be. "Get some sleep," he whispered. "I'll see you later."

"Ok," Janine swooned, ashamed because she did so. Leaning heavily against the doorjamb for support, she watched as he backed the SUV out of the drive. Determined not to make a bigger fool of herself tonight than she already had, she closed the door and locked up for the night. 

Bryce braked at the end of the block and glanced in his rearview mirror. A grin spread across his face as he saw the dark shadow stalk across the road. It seemed they had an audience tonight. Janine must have really had him distracted since he hadn't noticed Patrick's presence sooner. Not that he minded. Let the selfish prick come for him. He could tell by Patrick's stance, his stiff posture as he paced back and forth on the sidewalk in front of Janine's house that the man had witnessed their parting kiss. Tough shit. Patrick should have thought about that sooner. 

Janine decided to skip a shower and barely made it out of her dress and into her nightgown before collapsing on the bed. As tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, trying hard not to compare Bryce and Patrick to one another. It wasn't fair and it certainly wouldn't solve her problems. She had to sort through and straighten out her own mess.

At one time, she'd thought Patrick was the love of her life. Who was she kidding? He still was. But, he'd failed to give her the thing she wanted most. She turned onto her back and stared up at the slowly turning blades of the ceiling fan over her head. She stood on the sidelines, watching her closest friends find true love and ride off into the sunset. While she remained planted, waiting for the magic moment when she would get her turn. And Anna's wedding was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

Janine turned onto her side, fluffing the pillow under her head and sighing in irritation at her stubborn bout of insomnia. Her turn had never come and she'd grown weary with hinting and waiting. The biggest hint she'd ever dropped a guy in her life went unreciprocated. She had stuck post it notes all over the place, reminding Patrick that Valentine's Day was just days away, hoping he'd get a clue from her persistent prompting and finally confess his love for her. He didn't. His gift, although sparkly and gold, sure as hell wasn't the engagement ring she'd hoped for. 

The words she longed to hear from his lips eluded her. Finally, she surrendered, giving up hope that he'd ever give her what she wanted most. She moved out of the rooms they shared almost every night, into her old room, and then out of the compound all together. Patrick still didn't get it. They were at an impasse. He wouldn't give in and tell her what she needed to hear and she wouldn't go back until he did. 

Janine guessed that only reason he hadn't said what she needed to hear is that he really didn't feel the same way for her that she did for him. Despite his faults, Patrick was an honest and honorable man. He would never lie or sugar coat the truth. The truth, as bitter as it was, stung both her heart and her pride. She flipped over onto her belly and buried her face in the pillow. Gritting her teeth in desperation for sleep to come and cart her off to the world of dreams, to a universe where everything and nothing made sense at the same time. Patrick and the Sandman must be related, she mussed for neither one of them would come to her. 

Patrick knew Janine was still awake. He could hear the groan of the springs as she tossed and turned in the bed. His fingers were wrapped around the house key he'd copied off Robbie's key ring. He grasped the metal so hard in his palm he thought he'd have a permanent key shaped indentation. Determined not to let her have the last word, and in saying nothing and kissing another man, she had gotten the last word. He stormed off the porch and paced the uneven sidewalk in front of her house. 

What part of this didn't she get? Was she trying to be a bitch or did she really not have a clue how he felt about her? Maybe, and this grated him most of all, she didn't really give a damn how he felt. The reasons flitted through his mind. He could not go there with her. Confess what he should not feel. It would condemn the both of them if he did. 

Always, always when he thought about this, about how he felt. His guilt slammed home with a vengeance. He'd killed. Nikki had a life, until he took it from her. And no matter how many times Janine had tried to save him from his self-damnation. The thoughts were always with him, hidden beneath the surface. He would never take another life. Not if she begged him and offered it freely as his to do with what he pleased. In loving her, in his confession, he risked the one thing he cherished the most. And for that reason and no other, he pocketed the key and walked away.

Maybe, it wouldn't have hurt as badly as it did if Janine had fallen for a nice, stable, human man with a limited lifespan. A man capable of giving her everything he could not. Babies. Growing old by her side. A life, not the substitute he had to offer, but a real chance at a real life. He could accept that. Step aside gracefully and let her go. However, that was not the case. Bryce had nothing more to offer her than he did. Yet, she'd ended up in his arms and kissing his lips. Why? What did Bryce have that he didn't. What was the one thing that kept her dangling so close to the edge?


Dawn Forever



Patrick stiffened as he realized what Bryce had that he didn't. What the one thing was he had to offer that Patrick possessed but wasn't free to give. And that thought burned his ass. Bryce wasn't damaged and broken. But, he would be, very much so, by the time Patrick got done with him. 













Chapter 2

Patrick stormed through the halls of the compound, seething with rage. He had lots of time to think things through on the walk home and he'd come to one hard conclusion. Janine might not want him. But, he'd be damned if he was simply going to give up and roll out the welcome mat for Bryce to take his place in her heart. 

The long corridors were empty. Some of the brothers were still out on the bluffs partying it up in honor of Anna and Toby's wedding. Others were out, making their rounds on patrol. And some...well what did it really matter where they were, as long as they weren't in the way in he finally found Bryce.

Where was the little son of a bitch hiding? He had to be around here somewhere. Patrick felt betrayed by the man he once considered a friend. Out of all the women on the planet why was Bryce going after the only one he cared for? He was going to rearrange the little bastard's face and make it clear, perfectly clear to him that Janine was off limits.

Patrick rounded the corner, stomping through the kitchen and into the adjoining rec room. Stopping short, he stood in the wide entryway and glared menacingly at Bryce. Bryce was tall and lean, pure muscle, broad shoulders and powerful biceps, bigger and heavier than he, but not nearly as experienced in a fight. Patrick was thin and wiry, compact and muscular for his size. Perfectly built for his frame and body type. And had been in more than his fair share of scuffs. Over the years he'd learned how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. He didn't fight dirty. But, he didn't exactly fight fair either.

Bryce met Patrick's narrowed enraged gaze. He knew eventually Patrick would give into his wounded sense of pride. But, he hadn't expected it so soon. Nor, had he anticipated the heat of the animosity rolling off the brother. There was no point in trying to talk to him. The guy was beyond the point of reason, fueled by jealousy and rage. "Keep out of this," he ordered Marcus as he handed over his pool stick and slowly walked around the table. 

"Not a problem," Marcus mumbled, taking the cue from Bryce. He didn't need any special abilities to guess what was about to go down between the two men. Bryce came back to the lodge reeking of Janine's scent and Patrick was no fool. This was going to be ugly. Quickly. And since Marcus was already in hock with Dane, he wasn't even about to step in between the brothers. He was not an idiot. And he didn't have a death wish. And in this particular fight he had no idea which side he'd take.

"Why her?" Patrick asked on a roar, clenching and unclenching his fingers into tight fists. "Why'd you do it man? I thought we were friends." His eyes tracked the way Bryce moved around the corner of the table. "We were more than friends. We were brothers!" Adrenaline fueled by his fury lengthened his fangs and coiled his muscles into tight springs. Anger dilated his pupils and narrowed his vision down to a single point. Bryce's seventh right rib, a vampire's most vulnerable point. 

Bryce held his hands up in silent surrender. "There's no need for this brother," he said, his voice low and lethal in its black promise. He did not want to fight Patrick. But, he would in self-defense. Patrick was wickedly fast, perhaps, the most dangerous of the brothers due to his speed and agility. He sidestepped around the pool table, never taking his eyes off Patrick. "Just back off. Janine is old enough to make her own decisions." 

Bryce eyed the subtleties of Patrick's body language. Patrick was tense, his eyes blazing with rage, his jaw set with anger and hurt, his fists clenched tightly to his sides. He waited for his brother to unleash his rage. Standing in the hurricane's path, Bryce widened his stance planting his feet shoulder width apart and readied himself for the fight. "Janine is a very special girl."

Patrick lifted his head, his nostrils flaring in outrage at the mention of her name coming from Bryce's lips. "Yeah, she is. And you need to keep your hands off her." He caught Janine's scent, radiating off of Bryce. It sickened him to think of his brother, the man he trusted to guard his back, putting his hands all over her.

"I didn't force her to do anything." Bryce felt his anger mounting to critical mass at Patrick's demand. He wanted to feel sorry for Patrick, empathize with his plight. It wasn't easy to be dumped by someone, especially when the feelings went as deeply as Patrick's did. But when Patrick demanded that he stop seeing her, ordering him to keep his hands off of her as if she were a possession. It pissed Bryce off. Janine didn't belong to Patrick and he didn't own her. If she wanted to see him, there wasn't a thing Patrick could do about it. "She likes having me around. She kissed me back and my god, what a kiss it was," he said with a fanged grin, egging Patrick on.

Marcus lowered his eyes and shook his head. At first he hoped that the two men, snorting and circling each other like bulls in a pen, could be reasonable and talk this out like sensible human beings. But, it certainly didn't look like that was going to happen. Bryce was full of piss and vinegar, getting up in Patrick's face, goading the man into throwing the first punch. Driven by his wounded pride, Patrick pushed Bryce with words more effectively than if he'd put a hand on him.

Suddenly, Marcus was taken back to his early days of seedy barroom brawls. He widened his stance, in case the fight got out of hand. The brothers could duke it out for pissing rights. But, he'd be damned if he'd stand there and let them kill one another over her. Janine was his friend. She'd be devastated when news of the fight reached her. And it would. The brothers gossiped worse than a bunch of old ladies in a sewing circle. Guys," he said in a low voice. "Lets not do this." 

The two brothers went on snapping and snarling at one another as if they hadn't heard a word he'd said. And maybe, they hadn't. They were so focused on each other. Not much else got through the haze of their combined rage. Not good. Marcus reached out with his mind using the psychic link to call for backup. If these two got going and a fight broke out, there'd be nothing left of the rec room but mortar and splintered wood.

"I'm warning you. Stay away from her. She's mine." Patrick's blood boiled. His anger pushed the limits of his control to the breaking point. He circled Bryce, gauging the right moment to strike. He didn't give a damn about vows at this particular minute. He had taken an oath to guard the life of his brothers with his own. But, none of that mattered now. Not with Janine hanging in the balance. 

"Oh really. Have you asked Janine about that? She might have a different opinion. She is a person, a beautiful, amazing woman. You. Don't. Own. Her," Bryce growled. Hoping his brother would see some sense. "She can choose for herself who she wants to see. When she wants to see them. And what she wants to do while in their company," he countered. Walking in slow, measured steps, he poised on the balls on his heels, ready for the punch he knew was coming.

Patrick crouched low, selecting his point for attack. Bryce was left-handed and that made him slightly weaker, more neglectful of his right side. He'd never beat him in a frontal advance. He'd come at him from the right and go straight for the weak spot. "I don't want to hurt you. Just give me your word that you'll keep away from her and we can go back to being brothers. I'll even forgive you for kissing her."

Bryce stifled a laugh at Patrick's magnanimous offer. "Buddy," he hissed. "I've kissed her more than once. And if I'm lucky I'll get the chance to do it again. Maybe next time it'll be more than just kiss." He jutted his jaw out in defiance. At this point he didn't care if Patrick was a brother or not. This was so much more than just a pissing contest between them. It was about protecting Janine. Patrick had no right to force her into anything or to dictate who she could or could not see. "I can make her happy. Can you? She seems pretty miserable right now to me."

Patrick huffed. "She seemed pretty content in my bed not too long ago," he spat. 

"That was then and this is now. Your side of the bed wouldn't be cold and empty if you were taking care of business like you should be. Now would it? Maybe I'm just the man to warm it up and take your place." 

Patrick's thin thread of control snapped and he unleashed his fury on Bryce, launching his fists and feet at him in attack. "You bastard!" He moved in fast and furiously, pummeling the man he once called brother with steady, hard, well-aimed blows, going directly for the weakest point, and exploiting that vulnerability to his advantage. 

Bryce lowered his arm, concentrating on guarding his right rib cage instead of launching countering blows. On the defense, he danced on the balls of his feet, dodging Patrick's well-aimed fists. He really didn't want to hurt the man, in some small way he still considered a brother. But, he wouldn't stand here and let Patrick rip him apart limb from limb either. He spun on his heel, landing a few lucky punches and kicks of his own. The little prick was fast, jumping in delivering blows with lightening speed and powerful moves, and then darting out of the way before a majority of Bryce's punches landed.

Bryce threw out a kick striking Patrick in the midsection and sending him sailing through the empty air to land with a crash into the rough, rustic stone fireplace. A shower of masonry and chunks of rock fell down on Patrick's head. But, it did nothing to stop the man from rebounding onto his feet and driving Bryce into the center of the room.

Marcus crouched on his toes, ready to jump in and break up the fight. But, he didn't know which person to go after first. The brothers were both holding their own very well. He was reluctant to pounce into the melee and end up with the two of them venting all that pent up anger on him.

Dane and John Mark met in the hallway, just out side of the kitchen exchanged a glance, darting into the fray of shouts and heavy oomphs of pain coming from the rec room. Shouts and the sounds of destruction, the clatter of toppled furniture, the shattering of glass lamps, and heavy thud of pulverized stone, and the sharp crack splintering wood, echoed through the kitchen. Dane entered the room first, finding Patrick pinned to the wall, suspended at the end of Bryce's clenched fist by the throat. "What in the hell is going on here?" he bellowed, attempting to break it up before another one of Chris's precious treasures was irreparably damaged. 

"Son of a bitch!" John Mark hissed. He jumped in grabbed Bryce around the waist, throwing him off balance and towing him off of Patrick. The violence and fury of the fight indicated only one thing. This was no ordinary fight. And yes, the brothers fought amongst themselves. Came with the territory. But, this fight, and the shambles left in its wake meant something deeper than the usual brawl over egos. There was a woman involved. 

Patrick was on Bryce the minute his feet hit the floor. He didn't waste time with recovering from the pain in his partially crushed throat. The little bastard was a better fighter than he thought. And, like so many other lessons in life he'd failed to learn to date, he'd underestimated his enemy and it'd almost got him killed. 

Patrick sent out a hard kick, his foot finding its target, straight in Bryce's groin. "That ought to take care of any sex you were planning to have you miserable jackass," he rasped like a two pack a day smoker. Not quite finished and too fast for Dane to stop him. He dove back in, jamming a knee into Bryce's nose as he bent over to clutch his nuts. 

Dane landed on Patrick, dropping him to the floor and pinning him beneath his weight. "Stop it! What the hell is going on!" He grabbed Patrick by the shoulders and rammed his head hard against the floor to knock some sense into the man. 

Patrick's ears rang and his head spun from the force of Dane's shaking. He was still furious and enraged, huffing and bucking trying to throw off his stoic leader and get his hands on Bryce. He wanted to end this, here and now. Patrick felt Dane grab him by the collar and pull him onto his feet. "This isn't over," he huffed, shooting daggers at Bryce with his eyes. He stumbled to keep on his feet as Dane dragged him through the kitchen and down the long corridor to his office.

John Mark sat on the arm on the couch, waiting for Bryce to pull his nuts out of his throat and do something besides wail piteously in soprano. Patrick was notorious for doing anything it took to win a fight. And that included hitting below the belt. He glanced up, as Marcus did his best to put the tattered remnants of the rec room into some sort of order. "Marcus, why don't you give us a minute alone." 

"Gladly," Marcus mumbled, set what was left of Chris's shattered lamp back on the end table, and beat feet out of the rec room. Patrick was one hell of a scrapper, not someone he ever wanted to piss off. And Bryce was a better fighter than even Patrick had anticipated. But, Marcus wasn't about to choose sides between the two men he still considered his brothers. As long as Janine was happy, that was all that mattered. Maybe, if she were smart, she'd give them both the boot. Her life would definitely be less complicated. And Chris wouldn't have to buy new baubles and pretties to replace the ones busted to bits all over the floor. 

Sometimes, happiness was what you made it and found in whom you made it with. Marcus left the room, shaking his head in dismay. He sure as hell wouldn't want to be in anybody else's shoes but his own tonight.

John Mark scowled and surveyed the damage to Bryce's nose. "You gonna tell me what happened?" The bleeding had slowed to a trickle and the bones were knitting together. If he didn't do something, the nose was going to heal wrong and end up crooked as hell. "Take a deep breath," John Mark said. "This is going to hurt." Before Bryce had a chance to react, he grabbed Bryce's nose and jerked hard, gritting his teeth when the fragile bones slid back into place with a nauseating crunch.

Bryce let loose a string of curses as John Mark reset his nose. "Damn, that hurt!" He gritted his teeth in pain. The swelling was receding and the bleeding had stopped. He was healing quickly. That was one of the things he liked the most about being a vampire. No matter what the damage, almost anything was survivable and would repair itself. 

"Spill it." Dane said, slamming Patrick into a chair and pushing the office door closed with the tip of his boot. He crossed his arms and waited as he leaned on the end of his desk. He couldn't have disobedience or discord amongst his men. These two had to work whatever was going on between them. If they couldn't trust one another, if they couldn't watch each other's backs, he'd have to remove two of his best trackers from service. They were a liability and would end up getting themselves or someone else killed. 

"There's nothing to say," Patrick grumbled, massaging his throbbing ribs with his right hand. Most of the damage Bryce had managed to inflict was already healed. He hazarded a glance up at his leader and snapped his eyes to the floor. Pretty rug. The glare in Dane's infuriated brown eyes, not so pretty. 

"Bullshit." Dane stood, glaring down at Patrick, trying to intimidate him into talking. "Speak."

"We had a disagreement and it escalated. Bryce doesn't seem to see things quite the same way as I do." Ok, so his explanation was lame. He really didn't want to go into details. Dane had a heaping bucket full of punishment to dump on his head as it was.

"So you tried to convert Bryce into your way of thinking by kick his ass?"

Patrick scowled, still holding his ribs. "He wasn't doing too bad of a job kicking mine."

"I noticed that." Dane scrubbed his hand through his short, spiky, black hair and regarded Patrick with an analytical eye. "Does this little come to Jesus talk the two of you had have anything to do with Janine?" 

Patrick groaned and kept his eyes glued to the floor as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Dane knew him too well. "A little," he mumbled and shifted uncomfortably under Dane's heavy stare. At this moment, Dane was probably regretting Lucien's refusal to let him kill him when he had the chance. 

"I thought so." Dane thought long and hard about what punishment he should inflict on Patrick and Bryce. He'd have to think about it. Hard. Most of the furniture and all of Chris's knickknacks were damaged beyond repair. And she would not be happy about that. And when she found out the reasons behind this little scuff, she'd be doubly so. When the wife wasn't happy, neither was he. And the punishment would have to fit the crime. "You have no claim to her."

"I know that." Patrick looked up at Dane. They'd been through so much together. Not that it would garner him any slack. "What would you do if it were your woman?" 

"Don't confuse the issue. I'd die to keep Chris safe. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to make her happy." Dane relaxed his stare and uncrossed his arms. "I know how difficult this situation is. But, you have to face the facts. Janine left because she was unhappy." 

"I didn't realize how miserable she was." Patrick hung his head in shame. Yes he had, but he didn't have a clue of how to fix it at the time. And he sure as hell didn't now. 

"You do whatever it is you need to do to move past this. Win her back, if that's what you want. But, ultimately, her life is her own and any choices she makes are hers to make." Dane leaned low on the edge of the desk, staring Patrick down. In full hard ass mode, he warned. "Deal with this before I have to. I don't expect to see you in here again." 

"You won't have to." Patrick looked up at Dane. "I made a horrible mistake and I need to make it right. I promise, no more fighting."

John Mark waited for Bryce to regain his composure and his feeling from the waist down. Vampire or not, a blow to the groin had to hurt. "What's the story my man?"

"Nothing. We just had a disagreement." Bryce eased to the edge of the couch and grunted from the pain. His whole body felt as if it had been put through a meat grinder. And his balls were still somewhere north of the equator. 

"A disagreement?" Um yeah, like he was an idiot. A disagreement didn't equate to the destruction he saw in front of him. The brothers might have very well killed one another tonight. 

"Yeah. Disagreement," Bryce gritted through clenched teeth. "Patrick saw me with Janine and it set him off."

John Mark crossed his arms scowling hard at Bryce. "I imagine it would," he huffed. Did this man have a death wish or something? "You know Janine still loves Patrick. What good can possibly come from pursuing her?"

"I like her and you never know, she might pick me over him."

John Mark raised his eyebrows. Bryce couldn't possibly believe that. "If you two keep acting like a couple of bulls in a pen fighting over a prized cow, she might dump you both." 

"Maybe." 

"Maybe, you should give up while you're ahead." He leaned close, his eyes dark with warning. "I don't want to break up any more fights."

"You won't." Bryce rested his head in his palms, staring down at the bloodstains on the floor. Most of it was probably his. Fighting with a brother over a woman, he should be ashamed of himself. But, he wasn't. Janine was a breath of fresh air in his ordinarily, dull, stagnant life. And he wasn't about to given in gracefully and cut out of the race. Patrick would have to deal with the competition, and may the best man win.




Dawn Forever



"See to it that I don't." John Mark stood. He picked his way through the carnage of broken glass, tattered upholstery, and splintered wood. Pausing at the doorway, he turned and stared Bryce down. 

He had just one more thing to say. A promise. "If Janine gets hurt because of the two of you, if either one of you endangers her in any way, or tries through deceit or trickery to influence any decision she might make of her own free will. There won't be enough left of either one of you to soak up with a sponge." He plucked the dagger from the holster on his belt and tossed it. In a move so fast he could barely track the path of the blade, the tip of the dagger landed in the narrow space between Bryce's feet with a heavy thud. 











Chapter 3

Patrick stood at the end of Janine's bed. She slept peacefully and quietly, oblivious to his presence. The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, bathing her in a pale golden light through the sheerness of the bedroom curtains. Her sleeping mind was open to him. He had an advantage that Bryce could never have. She was his human donor. The link was weak due to her stubborn refusal to take his blood. He could still easily slip in and share her secrets as easily as one would open a book and skim through its pages. "Janine," he whispered, creeping along the edges of her mind. "Tell me what it is you want."

Janine shifted in her sleep, giving the covers a toss off her shoulders. A frown formed on her lax lips. "Patrick," she breathed. Even in slumber, where her mind was most vulnerable, she tried to fight him. Patrick pushed gently at her psyche. Janine was an open person when she was awake and generally, she spoke her mind freely. That she struggled now gave him a hint that what she felt and most wanted to say was something she was reluctant to give voice. Her brow wrinkled into deep furrows and her breathing sped and then she relaxed mumbling in her sleep. "Tell me you love me." 

Patrick took a step back in surprise. He thought it was about the ring and the flowers he assumed she fervently believed she deserved. About the commitment he was so hesitant to give her. He never suspected all of this was over three little words. 

She left and was torturing herself and him because of three insignificant words? Three words that he couldn't say as often as she needed to hear them had driven her into the arms of another man? He plopped down on the edge of the rocker and buried his face in his palms. "I do, Janine. I really do." 

"Not good enough," Janine, although still sleeping, grumbled with conviction. Patrick glanced through his parted fingers and stared at her shape buried under the covers. Her reply was a slap in the face. Or maybe, the wake up call he needed. He was on his feet and stalking around the side of the bed. 

"How can I prove it to you?" Patrick kept his voice soft, just loud enough for her subconscious mind to register. This was the most meaningful and the longest conversation they'd had in weeks. He stood at the edge of the bed and gently eased her sleep tousled blonde curls away from her face. Her full lips were pursed into a soft ring. It was hard to look at the pink flesh and not think about Bryce kissing them. He quickly squashed the surge of jealousy that ran through him like a lightening bolt. Her cheeks flushed under his inspection as if she knew he hovered above her. And on some level, although she was not fully aware, she probably did.  

"Say it," Janine answered hard enough to drive her point home. She tilted her chin and slid her cheek out from underneath the soft caress of his fingertips. For all intents and purposes, she was still asleep. But, on some level she was there, speaking her heart as honestly as she'd ever spoken it to him. 

She hovered on the verge of waking. Maybe it was because her mind registered their conversation as some version of a very fucked up dream or it was the sunlight streaming through the windows in full glory that had her stirring. 

"I.." Patrick stopped himself at the last minute. He withdrew his fingers from her sleep warmed skin and clenched them into a fist. How could he say that he loved her? He did love her, on some level. But, the kind of love she needed him to confess was eternal. She was not. Eventually, no matter how much he loved her, she would die. If he were lucky, maybe they'd have a few decades together, possibly more. 

Patrick knew he could transform Janine. But, even if she managed to talk him into trying, which he never would. It wasn't a sure bet. Transformation involved draining a person to the last heartbeat and then filling the empty shell with vampire blood. It was risky, and not everyone survived. She could slip away in the process. 

He could not imagine feeling her heart stutter in that lethal rhythm and then stop while he held her in his arms. He could not fathom standing on the sidelines, helplessly watching as one of the brothers did what he did not have the courage to do for the sake of eternal love. It was a chance he wasn't willing to take, not with her. He lowered his lips to her cheek, gently giving her a kiss before he disappeared into the golden-pink hue of dawn.

Janine awakened to the singing of birds and the soft gentle breeze of morning air rustling the lace curtains. At some point during the night, in the midst of all her tossing and turning her exhausted body and harried mind must have simply given out and she'd finally fallen asleep. She couldn't have slept more than a few hours. But, damn, she felt great. For the first time in over a week, more like her old self. And it was good to have the old, perky, energetic, innocuously cute, and incorrigibly funny Janine back. 

She dreamed of Patrick last night. No big shocker there. Her fingers traced the spot on her cheek. The skin still tingled where he'd kissed her in the dream. There was such an expression of despair and anguish in his eyes as he stared down at her with longing. She was tempted to call him, just to hear his voice. It was a stupid, stupid thought she quickly dismissed. Why would she bother? After all, it was just her mind compensating for the harsh reality of what she knew she'd never get from him. 

She would not let her dreams, which she had no control over dictate that which she did. Today was a new day and the old had no place in it. Janine declared today a 'no tear day' and threw back the covers in determination. After a deep yawn that went to her toes and a joint cracking stretch, she bounced out of the bed full of anticipation. Wondering what the day had in store for her.

She had to be at the shop in an hour to open. The patrons probably didn't care what she looked like as long as she served up their order and made correct change. But, she did. And an hour wasn't much time to shower, do her hair, and put on her face. Today she was going all out on herself. She hopped in the shower and chose the good body wash she saved for special occasions. Why not? Today might be special. 

After drying off and picking through her hair. Adding an extra dollop of gel to tame the curls into soft ringlets she pulled it back away from her face in a pretty clip she'd found at the dime store. Not her best look, but Robbie insisted. And yeah, probably nobody would be particularly enamored of her if a stray hair ended up in a hot fudge sundae. 

Janine balanced the multi-tiered box she kept her makeup in on the vanity with her hip. Taking her time, she fingered through the contents. She had every color of eye shadow imaginable and twice as many shades of lipstick. Brushes. Lash curlers. Tweezers. Concealer and foundation. Nail polish. Someone else might be appalled at how much makeup she owned. But, in her mind beauty knew no limits. The brothers had their war paint and she had hers. 

With a careful hand, she stroked on her eye shadow and highlighted her brows. Today she was going for a simple look with pinks and browns in shades certain to make her blue eyes pop. Thanks to the cherry red sunburn across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, she didn't need blush and had to pile on extra moisturizer to keep her from resembling a leper when the burn started to peel. She applied a light coat of lip-gloss and blew herself a kiss in the mirror to fully smooth the gloss over her lips. 

Today, she was going all out. Since it was officially a 'tear free day' she chose the mascara that ran like crazy when she cried but did wonderful things to her lashes and made them appear super long. Overall, she was pleased with her efforts and with her time. She had ten minutes left to get dressed in her What's the Scoop t-shirt and kaki shorts. 

Since today was the first day of the rest of her life and she felt like pampering herself a little. She skipped the cotton undies and chose something special out of her unmentionable drawer. Silk panties and a matching lacy push up bra might seem a bit silly to some women, especially under her uniform. But, what the hell. 

She pulled on the panties and slid into her bra and gave herself a quick once over. Over the past week, she'd avoided the compound like the plague and hadn't necessarily had the energy to work out. It was beginning to show. 

Her butt was a source of contention for her. She was too short for so much junk in her trunk. But, it was there. She stared infuriated by the fat dimple in her left cheek. Huge. As deep as a crater on the moon. And that would have to be remedied immediately. Saddlebags were for horses and Harleys. Maybe, John Mark would set her up a mini version of his infamous torture chamber, otherwise known as the gym, in the basement. 

Janine was not about to let her big butt get her down. Not today. Today she was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. She riffled through the bottles of perfume strewn across the dresser and selected her favorite one. The most expensive one she saved for special occasions. The one Patrick could not stand the smell of. Oh well. The perfume wasn't for him. It was for her. With five minutes left on the clock to get to work, she rushed out the door and hopped on her bike to pedal, on such a glorious late spring morning, to the shop.



















Chapter 4

Keene had been dragged all over the California coastline, from one beach to another. He stayed close to Roark, keeping vigilant although reluctant watch over his master. Their host, a Master by the name of O'Sullivan, welcomed them into his territory with a flash of grandeur intended more for show than actual enthusiasm at having to share his turf. O'Sullivan was a dangerous vampire, lethal and sneaky about his dealings, so typical of a Rogue Master. But, the whole honor among thieves thing required that unless Roark created a problem, O'Sullivan didn't have an issue or a choice. 

The man made Keene's fangs crawl. He expected an attack at any minute. Wished for it. O'Sullivan was powerful. He kept his true numbers hidden. And the actual span of his influence disguised by an air of amicable friendship. The man was no friend. Keene knew for a fact how ambitious their host was. 

O'Sullivan's territory included the entire state of California and trickled north into Oregon, south into the Mexican border, and east; how far, Keene was unsure of. But, he had no doubt the master had faithful followers spread throughout the southwest and possibly even deeper into the heart of the United States. Only one man possibly had such a broad circle of influence and was an equal match for O'Sullivan's power, the Great Father. 

O'Sullivan played a good game. One Roark could only dream of. The man moved through the streets with arrogant confidence, as if he owned them. And in a way, he did, at least the shadowy underworld that went down when the humans were tucked away in their beds for the night. O'Sullivan didn't need an entourage. Wherever he went, he did so alone, without a second to guard his back. He wore his ambition like a cloak around his shoulders. And left a wake of menace and threat in his path. Danger crackled in the air. And Keene begrudgingly protected his master out of instinct from the unseen, palpable threat. 

But, with the hoards of scantily clad people crammed onto every square inch of available space. It was close to impossible to guard Roark. How was he supposed to hide his weapons in the ridiculous swimming trunks the females insisted that he wear? He felt naked in the skin-tight, black Speedo. And the fabric, although it moved with him and was remarkably breathable, clung to his package and showed every bulge. There was too much bare flesh on this beach. Too many women with breasts that nature had no hand in creating. And damn, were they a beautiful sight to behold. He struggled with guarding more than his Master. His arousal was painfully, agonizingly apparent in the confines of the swimsuit. 

More and more Keene's thoughts drifted to the quiet, calm of the dense woodlands and filled him with longing. He gritted his fangs against the pang in his heart. He had other desires too. Deep-seated longings every bit as torturous as the teasing pipe dream of his eventual escape. Before he left this world for good and his soul was delivered into whatever eternal rest waited for him. He was going to fuck and fuck and fuck the first female willing to take him into her bed and rid himself of over a century of pent up sexual frustration. 

His master was busy soaking up the attention and affections lavished upon him by the human females and vampire entourage he called his faithful followers. The man was an idiot. The vampires were using him for the protection he could offer and his deep pockets, filled to the brim with money. The humans were letting him use them in hopes of becoming transformed. The situation was completely absurd and Roark was none the wiser. 

Keene grunted pressing his sunglasses tighter against his face, protecting his eyes from the white glare of the sun on the sand. He was not allowed under the dim shade of the cabana. He stood at full attention, baking in the heat and broiling in the sun. If only he could escape. Slip away and disappear into the throngs of humanity. The Great Father offered him asylum. Said he could break the hold the Rogue Master had over him. Was there really a refuge for him to turn to? 

Keene knew that if he tried to make a run for it, when he was found, his long term of servitude would be at an end. Death would be such a small price to pay for just a taste of freedom. He didn't worry about upsetting the truce between the Great Father and the Rogue Master. The thing was a ruse, a means for Roark to gain access to the brothers. Keene wasn't considered a threat and Roark spoke freely of his plans for them. In acquiring the brotherhood, Roark would become the most powerful Rogue Master on the continent, perhaps, in the world. 

Keene considered the Sons loyal. They would fight to the death to protect their leader, The Great Father. They would never betray one another and they would never stray from their ideals to save their own skins. The primary difference between the Rogues and the Sons was that the brothers relied on animals for their primary source of food, taking only sips from willing donors. The Rogues took whatever they wanted from whomever they chose. Killing randomly, when their urges got too strong. The Rogue Master didn't punish his minions for their mistakes. Nope. He sent him, his second, to clean up the mess. The brothers had very different beliefs, and they put those who murdered humans for food to death. 

The Sons were swift and effective, hunting down rogues and delivering irreversible justice. Their name alone was enough to invoke fear and obedience throughout the vampire community. Oddly enough both he and his master agreed on one point, the Sons and the terror their name invoked were a necessity. Otherwise, vampires would hunt and feed gluttonously, as it was in their darkest natures to do, endangering the fragile balance between hunter and hunted. It wouldn't take long for humanity to realize how much truth was interwoven into their fictions. And then, the hunted might very well become the hunter.

"Keene!" Roark barked, lifting his face from the neck of a bikini clad, youthful female O'Sullivan had generously offered up as means of demonstrating his hospitality. The Master lounged on the chaise beside him, masking his menace behind a wide, fanged smile. "Fetch the females something to drink." 

Roark held up a wad of bills. Money was just one meager display of his standing. Sending his second to run the errand was perhaps his boldest. Posturing for O'Sullivan, showing the powerful Master that he could hold his own without cowering in the shadow of his second for protection. O'Sullivan had men mixed in with the crowd. Hidden out of sight. As bold as the Rogue Master was, he would not risk an ambush within eyeshot of so many bystanders. And Roark was secure as a babe in his mother's arms, for the moment. After dark, while the humans slept, that might be another story. 

"Keene, can I have one of those?" Kayla asked, pointing to the pink, frothy drink with fruit and an umbrella sticking out of the top, a bikini clad passerby clutched in her hand. She was stalling for time. O'Sullivan was far scarier than Roark on his worst day. The man wasn't ugly. Quite the opposite, he was breathtakingly handsome. And if she'd been an ordinary human female, she would have swooned at the way his eyes locked on her with lust and appreciation. She knew better. The man could kill in ways Roark hadn't even dreamed of in the deepest, blackest, recesses of his dark imagination. 

Kayla hid her anger well and her fear even better. Behind a wide, lame, ditzy smile perfected by years of practice. Roark had offered her up to O'Sullivan like a choice sow on market day. And the man could not wait to sink his fangs into her. There was nothing quite as demeaning as being treated as exactly what she was to Roark to put her in her place. To him, she was just a possession, probably, one step above his favorite pair of socks. Disposable. Easily forgotten. Worth nothing of real value. And in offering her wrist or her neck or whatever body parts O'Sullivan wanted to use of hers, he'd driven the point home. Her life was nothing to him. And soon he'd end it for her.  

"Oh, me too!" The other girl, Angel, planted firmly on O'Sullivan's lap chimed in. She was awestruck by the honor of being chosen to feed such a powerful master. Maybe, he'd like her so well that he'd insist on keeping her. She was going to do her best, in whatever way she could to prove her value to him. She wiggled her hips seductively, giggling like a schoolgirl when his erection poked into the fabric of her scanty bikini bottoms. He liked her. And that was just so cool. 

"As you wish." Keene took the money from Roark's outstretched fingers and stormed out of the cabana. He was nothing more than a boy from the hill country of Kentucky when Roark stumbled across him. He drank water and if he was lucky a sip or two of moonshine snuck from his papa's mason jar. The stinking, sweet smelling concoctions served up in the tall, frosty glasses were a mystery to him. What were they? And most importantly where was he supposed to find one? He tracked the scent, choking back his revulsion at the fruitiness of the drink to the far end of the beach. 

He trod through the hot sand, feeling the temperature burn through the souls of his shoes. He had about twenty minutes before Roark became suspicious. About thirty minutes or so, before he sent his minions to look for him. And given their bungling and weak skills. They wouldn't find him if he left them a map and a compass. He had about an hour before the Rogue Master came after him personally. Roark could not afford to look weak in front of O'Sullivan. And in Keene's abandonment, he would look a fool. Maybe, O'Sullivan would kill him. If only Keene could get that lucky. 




Dawn Forever



An hour lead, it wasn't much. He had the cash that Roark gave him and other than his determination to escape, nothing else. He tucked the bills into his swim trunks and disappeared into the crowd swarming around the drink stand. An hour. And then his time ran out. 













Chapter 5

Janine hummed a little nonsense tune as she flipped the shop's sign from closed to open. The day was shaping up to be fantastic. Over night the humidity had dissipated and the sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless, clear blue sky. Her job wasn't much. At first she took it to help out a friend, not for the money. Patrick kept a steady flow of green in her pocket. Now, that she was on her own, she'd turned over the bankcards and wads of cash. It didn't seem right to expect Patrick to continue providing for her when she wasn't involved with him anymore. And she'd moved out to proclaim her independence. 

The ice cream shop cleverly named 'What's the Scoop' was Robert and Danielle's legacy to their only child Robbie. Robbie inherited the shop but lost interest. The place simply held too many happy and painful memories for her to fully dedicate all her time and attention to the shop. And Janine, desperate for something to prove her worth, had eagerly stepped up to lend a hand. 

The paychecks were small, barely enough to keep her fed. But, she was getting by. Not having to pay rent and holing up in Robbie's childhood home certainly helped. And borrowing Chris's car saved tons of money. By the time the shop closed for the season, she could have enough cash saved up to move back to the city, land a job worthy of her MBA, and rent a cracker jack sized apartment. She hated to leave her friends behind, but her empty pocketbook was going to force her to.

She smiled at Robbie, who at hearing her off key attempt at a song poked her head out of the office. "Hey girlfriend. What's up?" 

"You certainly look better today," Robbie said. She was relieved to see the dark circles under Janine's eyes gone. The woman was vibrant this morning, practically bouncing in her Keds. 

"I feel good," Janine confessed. She leaned on the counter and winked at Robbie. "How are the newlyweds doing?" Since she didn't live at the compound anymore, she missed out on most of the gossip. 

Robbie scoffed and rubbed at the counter with a damp dishrag. "Anna and Toby haven't emerged from their love nest yet."

"Oh, I'm so glad they're putting all of our hard work to good use," Janine teased. Her BFFs and she had busted their butts for weeks before the wedding packing and unpacking Anna's things. Moving them from her house in the city and into the newly designed suites intended as a wedding gift. 

"I hope the bed holds up," Robbie snorted. She slid her neon pink 'What's the Scoop' t-shirt over her tank top, hiding the hilt of the dagger she had strapped to her hip. Coming to work everyday, while productive, was a ruse. And a bit too much like all the summers past. It was easy to fall into the familiar routines again and pretend that her parents were still here with her. Sometimes, she almost could forget that the ding of the bell over the shop door wasn't her dad coming in for work, or her mom, popping by to check the books.

Robbie was really here to keep watch over Janine. Make sure she stayed safe and kept out of trouble. And that Patrick didn't cause any problems. This was a business, even though, if Janine hadn't offered to run it, she wouldn't have opened this summer. It was still a business not a soap opera. And Robbie didn't want any dramatic bullshit on her watch. She secured her unruly red curls into an elastic band and adjusted the lightly tinted lenses over her sensitive green eyes. 

Robbie's day would end when Janine's did. Once Janine left at the end of her shift, Lori would take over the counter. And the brothers would resume their careful watch over the shop and Janine. Robbie glanced up when the bell above the door sounded, announcing a customer.

Janine didn't have to paste a smile on her face. Grinning as the delivery lady from the flower shop approached the counter, carrying a vase stuffed to overflowing with fragrant sprigs of lavender and fragile white roses. She knew who the flowers were for and eagerly snatched the card from the blossoms. "Oh, I wonder who they're from." She opened the envelope with her thumbnail and turned away from Robbie, peering nosily over her shoulder, to read it.

Robbie resented Janine's huff and determined twist of her shoulders to prevent her from peeking at the note. Of course, Janine had no cash to tip the delivery woman. Or she'd become so engrossed in the flowers and the card that she'd forgotten. Robbie made and ice cream cone, with a perfect curlicue on the tip, added a cherry, and a few dollars out of the cash register and slid them into the woman's hand as compensation for her trouble. Licking the ice cream like a cat with a bowl of cream, the woman left the shop. 

Robbie looked over her sunglasses at Janine's excited expression and exuberant bouncing. "Patrick?" she hazarded a guess. Patrick wasn't the type to send flowers. He was more likely to send Janine a highly polished dagger with engraving on the blade, classy and understated. Not flowers, so obvious and over the top, cliché and commercial. That simply wasn't his style.

The card was just as lovely as the flowers. At first, Janine was disappointed. Thinking they might be from Patrick, which they weren't. She snorted to herself. She should have known better. The flowers were from Bryce, and the note a 'thank you' for the kiss. She clutched the card to her chest, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. He wanted to see her again. She knew it was wrong of her to accept the flowers and his request for her company. But, nobody had ever thanked her for something as simple as a kiss before. He was so sweet. And she needed to see him face to face to thank him for the flowers and to explain all she could offer him was friendship. 

"Nope." Janine blushed, shoving the card into her hip pocket. She lowered her nose to the flowers inhaled the sweet fragrance of the fragile blossoms before setting them out of the way of the way of the customers. She bit her lip in debate. Should she tell Robbie who the mystery sender was? Oh, what the heck, there were really very few secrets kept between members and she trusted Robbie with her life. 

Robbie was a vampire, and beyond that, a capable warrior. If she didn't trust her, she wouldn't be standing shoulder to shoulder, working with her. "Bryce."

"Oh." Robbie lifted her brows in curiosity. "He's a nice guy." Robbie hadn't had many dealings with Bryce. The trackers were their own special breed. But, she knew him well enough by reputation. He was one of the better trackers and was pretty good in a fight. As evidenced by the ass kicking he'd delivered Patrick last night. He was reliable and trustworthy. She doubted if his finer qualities were enough to keep Janine interested for very long. Janine craved some level of unpredictability in her life. She needed a man who kept her guessing and on her toes. Bryce was the exact opposite of that. 

"He's very sweet," Janine corrected, defending Bryce. 

"Are you sure sweet is enough?" 

Janine shook her head and frowned at Robbie. "They're flowers, nothing more. It isn't like he's proposing to me. We're friends." 

"Yeah, friends," Robbie grumbled, dropping the subject like a hot potato. She so did not want to spend her morning debating Patrick versus Bryce with Janine. What the woman did with her love life was her business. And Robbie had seen way too much drama to get caught up in it. "I'll be in the office if you need anything."

*****

Patrick spent the morning in the woods, thinking. He didn't want to lose Janine for good. But, he couldn't give her what she wanted. He thought about it...months ago...and went so far as to buy her a ring. The ring was still stashed away in his dresser unopened in the box it'd been shipped. Ultimately, in the end, he'd chickened out and settled for the earrings instead. He couldn't risk her life. And couldn't risk loving her as she was, so fragile and breakable. 

Last night, Anna had him almost convinced to confess his feelings for her. But, then Bryce got in the way. Maybe, in some twisted, knife in the gut kind of way, it was for the best. Bryce certainly didn't seem to have any hang-ups when it came to Janine's humanity. A shadowy figure blocked the patchy sunlight filtering through the trees overhead, looming over him like the Grim Reaper incarnate. Great. 

"It sounds like a bee's nest up there." John Mark thumped Patrick's skull with his index finger and squatted on the ground next to his brother. He could not judge Patrick's mood with the dark sunglasses and thick fall of sandy brownish-blond hair hanging over his eyes. But, if his mind were any indication, not all was well in Patrick's head. 

"Chris saw the busted fireplace this morning. She is not a happy woman." John Mark snickered. Dane thought delegating the task of delivering Patrick and Bryce's punishment would build character. What a crock of shit. "You should be lucky she's in your corner and for some reason she likes you. Dane wanted to do far worse than the punishment she managed to talk him into. He mentioned something about having you hand polish every rabbit turd in the tri-county area. The only thing she wants is for you to repair the damage you caused. Immediately."

"Why should I do it on my own?" Patrick grumbled. He kicked at a rock embedded in the soil with the toe of his boot and refused to be grateful for the ease of the punishment Chris doled out on his head.

"Funny you should mention that." John Mark braced himself for a fight. Patrick wasn't known for his cooperation. "Actually, you're not. The both of you are."

"You want me to be in the same room with him?" Patrick spat out the question with a fiery indignant hiss. He couldn't possibly occupy the same space as Bryce. Not for a second and definitely not without wanting to throttle the man. He'd rather hand polish every turd than endure any amount of one on one time with Bryce.

"You are brothers. Whether you like it or not, you have to cover each other's backs. He is responsible for your life and you are responsible for his. That's kind of how this whole thing works. The both of you have to get over yourselves. Our lives depend on it."

Patrick groaned. John Mark, the bastard, was right. Patrick had a duty to the brothers. That duty had to surpass any personal bullshit. "Fine," he grumbled, exhaling a labored sigh as he rose to his feet. "I'll do it. But, if he starts something, I'm going to finish it."

"No, you're not. The two of you are going to be polite and respectful to one another. And you're going to repair the broken rock in the fireplace," John Mark said, standing. He moved through the woods, leaving Patrick to pout over his punishment. John Mark was only kidding about Dane's idea. In actuality, this little exercise was a test. As pissed as Dane was when Marcus pulled his little stunt and blew the Rogue Master's house to kingdom come, Dane hadn't truly considered banishing him from the Sons. If Patrick and Bryce couldn't pull it together and at least finish one simple task as a team, they had no place in the brotherhood. 

"Whatever." Sure they were. "Shit," Patrick hissed, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. The punishment didn't fit the crime. Turd polishing aside, Patrick expected Dane to come up with something worse than just a simple fireplace repair. Chiseling out a few rocks and replacing them with new ones was far too easy. Yet, it'd be the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd have to swallow his pride. Move beyond the insult and betrayal his brother inflicted on him and get the job done. The punishment for failure was far worse than being trapped in the same room with Bryce for hours. On a side note, and with a crooked shit-eating grin, Patrick wondered how Bryce's balls were this morning. 

*****

Bryce stared at the carpet beneath his feet. Lance spent the remainder of the night, in between replacing the ice packs Bryce clutched to his swollen gonads, lecturing him like he was his mom. This morning, Dane wasted no time hauling him into his office and with nothing more than a hard scowl, made Lance's non stop nagging seem like cheers from the high school pep squad. 

He got it. He really did. But, he didn't feel the least bit of regret for throttling Patrick. Especially not today, when his balls were still swollen to the size of grapefruits and the soft brush of the silk boxers under his leathers brought tears to the corner of his eyes. Some parts were just a little quicker to heal than others. And his poor testicles might never be the same. 

Dane scowled at Bryce, driving home his point with his hard, relentless glare. This man should be kissing Chris's feet for saving his ass, for he personally had no such measure of pity on either of them. Decades of service did not make up for the idiocy these two displayed last night. He'd give them their chance. Their one and only chance to prove themselves to the brotherhood. And if they failed, he would not hesitate to send them packing. He'd invoke his rights and enforce the rule that had never been enforced before. No son had ever been banished from the brotherhood before. 

Bryce shifted from foot to foot like a little kid called in front of the principal. Dane could have reduced him to ash with the weight of his stare. Instead, he gave him the second chance he didn't deserve. Patrick didn't have to cooperate. And the two of them didn't have to be buds. All they had to do was tolerate one another long enough to get the job done. 

He hauled ass once Dane was done with him. Completely ignoring Lance, who casually leaned against the doorframe, waiting on him. And steeled his resolve in grim determination. He might lose the girl to Patrick. Maybe. And he could accept that when it came down to it. But, lose his place in the Sons because of Patrick. Not happening. 

Chapter 6

Bryce was busily chipping away at the stubborn mortar that held the cracked and splintered stones in place. This was some punishment, being forced to work along side Patrick. He understood the rationale, but questioned the wisdom behind Dane's decision. The job forced Patrick and he to work together as a team. And it was a miracle that they hadn't killed each other yet. 

He chiseled and Patrick gathered the bits of stone and mortar. They walked to the creek bed and spent time, Patrick searching one side while he searched the other for the perfect stone to fit in the broken stone's place. Then Patrick held the stone in place while Bryce sealed the gaps in the rock. And sometimes, when Chris stopped by to monitor their progress and felt they'd failed to hit the mark. They had to start the process all over again and chip out the stone they'd just replaced in hopes a suitable substitution would make her happy.

They had to work together and rely on each other. Move beyond their personal feelings to get the job done. Sometimes, it took over an hour of fastidious searching to find the perfect stone. Sometimes, a stone just wouldn't fit in the gap left behind. And sometimes, the stone they'd so painstakingly chosen, slid into the space perfectly, but the shade was wrong or there was a flaw hidden they'd missed. 

The work was tedious. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. And the unspoken, hung heavily in the air between them. Bryce gritted his teeth and kept out of Patrick's way. Patrick huffed and did his best to pretend Bryce wasn't there. Working side by side, it wasn't easy. And Dane had been kind, or had enough foresight, not to leave them with power tools. Or the work might not have happened at all. 

Patrick didn't say a word that he didn't have to. He picked up his tools and began working diligently on the masonry. Prying out a broken stone, he tossed it into a pile. Finally, the silence and stress between them became thick, palpable, and unbearable. "Man, why are you doing this?" he asked, looking up at Bryce.

"Because Dane ordered me to," Bryce replied, looking down at Patrick from his perch on the ladder. He dropped a stone into the pile where it landed with a loud clack against the other rocks and returned to coaxing another jagged piece of stone free from the wall. 

Patrick ground his teeth in irritation and dodged the stone Bryce dropped into the pile. Asshole, Patrick thought, brushing a powdery spray of masonry off his shoulder. "That's not what I mean. Why are you chasing after Janine?" He grunted and returned to filing away at the rough mortar to widen the space in preparation for a replacement stone.

"Why aren't you?" Bryce countered. He tossed the stone he'd finally managed to work free into the pile. This time making sure he took the time to aim before he threw it.

Patrick bit his lip and sorted through the rocks Bryce and he gathered from the creek bed. He didn't have to explain his motives to anybody, especially not Bryce. "It's complicated," he mumbled. He held the stone in his fingers and pressed it into the hole. 

"Didn't seem too complicated last night when you were planting your foot in my balls." He nodded in approval of Patrick's choice of stones and climbed down the ladder to select one to replace the rock he'd managed to work free. "Enlighten me." 

"She wants something that I can't give her," Patrick reluctantly admitted. He held the stone in place with his fingers while Bryce applied the finishing touches to the masonry around the edges. 

"Hmmm," Bryce grumbled, smoothing away the excess mortar with a fingertip. "And what would that be? A stable relationship? Respect?"

"No." Bryce was back up the ladder, leaving him to hold the stone in place while the mortar hardened. He groaned, sputtering as a spray of loose, powdery mortar that showered down on his head as Bryce filed away at the edges of a wide gap. "You don't get it do you?" 

"I don't suppose I do." Bryce frowned at Patrick and began working faster. "Don't stop. I need to finish this. I have a date tonight." 

Patrick winced, grinding his teeth to restrain his temper. "With her?"

"Yes." Bryce held the rock he'd chosen to the hole and grunted when it refused to comply with his desires and simply slide into place. He climbed down the ladder and riffled through the meager pile they had left trying to find one that would fit. 

"She wants me to tell me that I love her." 

Bryce crouched on his haunches and stopped sifting through the rocks long enough to stare up at Patrick in disbelief. The man's expression was grim. Bleaker than anything he'd ever seen. "Is that what all this is about? Is that why she left?" 

"Yes." Patrick hated to admit his one true weakness to his enemy. And as long as Bryce pursued Janine, he was an enemy. He plopped down on the hearth and rested his forearms on his knees, staring at the scattered heaps of broken rock and powdery piles of mortar. 

"Do you? Do you love her?" Bryce was curious. In all the time he'd known Patrick, he'd never seen him look so broken, divested of his cocky mask of arrogance. He cautiously eased down to sit on the heart beside Patrick. They weren't exactly friends and the man would probably just as readily throttle him than confess his feelings. 

Patrick reluctantly nodded. "I want to."

"Then what's the problem? Tell her and end our collective suffering." Bryce ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and uttered a confession of his own. "I want her to be happy. No matter what or whom she ends up with as long as she's happy that's the most important thing."

"I told you it's complicated." Patrick sighed and lifted his hazel eyes to meet Bryce's stare. "I can't tell her that I love her. I can't do it. I can't offer a ride into the sunset on a white steed. If I love her, I have one of two choices. Either transform her or watch while she slowly dies, little by little, each day." 




Dawn Forever



"I'm not following you. Janine could ask to be transformed at anytime. It's her right as a donor. And there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop her." He had no preconceived notions about Janine's humanity. It wasn't her heartbeat or her scent or any of the other things about her that made her human that he cared about. It was her. Who she was that drew him in like a moth to the flame. 

"I know that. But, I can't risk her life like that. I can't ask her to make that kind of a decision. And I can't use my feelings for her as a reason for her to do it. She could die. Or ultimately end up hating me forever. And as you damn well know, forever is a very long time." Patrick rose to his feet and began diligently working on the stone with his chisel. 

Bryce joined in, kneeling beside Patrick to help prepare the last remaining spaces. "You feel damned if you do and damned if you don't."

"Yeah." Patrick stopped working long enough to gauge Bryce's reaction. To see if his comments sank in. "Now, do you get it?" 

"I get it," Bryce admitted. "But, I don't agree with you. Patrick, you and I will always have our differences. Hell, we always have. But, on this one, I know I'm right. You need to step back and give her some credit. Stop using her humanity as an excuse. You're terrified of her. Not because she's human, but because you don't want to be. You want a reason not to love her. You want something air tight that she can't possibly argue her way out of. You're putting her in an impossible situation to save your own skin.

"Brother, that's not right. And it's selfish. Janine knows what she wants. And when the time is right, she'll do it, whether you're in the picture or not. You talk about how long forever is. Maybe, you should think about that as well, " 

Patrick gritted his teeth and pulled on the ends of his hair. He paced back and forth across the room. Every word Bryce said was the absolute truth. He knew he was punishing Janine in the worst way possible for something that wasn't her fault. "I know I'm a selfish prick. I'm trying to protect her. But, all I seem to manage to do is hurt her. I can't. I just can't do it anymore."

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest and stood, blocking Patrick's path. "Then I still have a chance."

Patrick stared at the floor, his shoulders sagging defeat. "Yeah, I guess you do." He couldn't understand why Bryce was so certain Janine would take the risk and gamble with her precious life. Patrick hadn't been given a choice. He was still a teenager when it happened. And his future was stolen away from him. To this day he was virtually unchanged, still deceptively young beneath the wear and tear of time in his hazel eyes, barely able to pass for eighteen, maybe twenty, on a rare occasion. He was stuck exactly as he was on the day he died nearly a century ago. He aged. Perhaps, a day or two for every decade that passed. Frozen between manhood and boyhood in a teenager's awkward body. 

Janine was the only woman who could really look past the façade of his youth and see the man trapped behind his eyes. When they first met, the flirtation was fun, nothing but a game. After he'd been captured and tortured by the rogues, forced by starvation to kill. A part of him was changed forever. How fair was it that he could offer Janine the one thing he hadn't thought to give her?

After his escape, he returned to The Sons and faced trial for taking a life. Although he was pardoned, he carried the guilt. He tried his best to chase Janine away. He was damaged-goods and there was every risk that he could go rogue and kill again. Janine didn't give up, pursuing him and professing her faith in him. She held fast, patiently waiting for him to recover. In time, Patrick began to believe in himself again, and in the love that she had for him. 

Patrick knew that Janine hadn't given up on him. Even though the words left her lips she still held a small glimmer of hope in her heart. His refusal to say the words was crushing her soul. And eventually, her hope would die. It seemed no matter what he did, she was destined to suffer. If he admitted how he felt, he could hold on to her for a while longer. If he offered her his blood, they would be bound together as soul mates. But, he would have to turn her. He wouldn't be able to let her go. And if he did nothing, let things ride out on their course, she would eventually move on and find another. 

Could he really live with the loss? Stand by and watch her find love in the arms of another? Give up and hand her over to Bryce? No, as painful as it was to admit, he couldn't. He had to step beyond his fear and claim the heart that beat for him. He squared his shoulders and leveled his gaze at Bryce. "You might have a chance with her. But, don't count me out of the running yet. I'm going to do everything in my power to win her back."

Bryce met Patrick's determined stare. He understood his opponent better now. Found his weakness. Did he have the guts to exploit it? To do so would be to play dirty. He wanted Janine to choose him, fair and square. If he were a nobler man, he'd take himself out of the picture completely. Give her time and wait for her to come to him. But, he wasn't noble and he wasn't feeling overly generous towards Patrick at the moment. If Patrick was willing to fight it out, so be it. "May the best man win."

Patrick nodded. "There has to be one term we must agree to." He took a breath at the curious lift of Bryce's brow. "Janine is a gentle and fragile soul. We cannot allow this to tear her in two. She doesn't deserve that. Whichever one of us wins her heart wins it forever. The loser steps out of the way like a real man." 

"Agreed." Bryce accepted Patrick's outstretched hand and sealed the pact with a firm shake. Bryce had no intentions of losing and if she did give him her heart, he would keep it forever. He could give her what Patrick couldn't. He could love her. And if she chose him, he'd make sure she knew it. He'd tell her everyday. If he won and earned the right to call her his, he would transform her. Without reservation, without doubt, without fear, when she was ready, he'd give her everything.

Alex hung back, staying around the corner and out of sight. The two men were discussing her best friend. Negotiating and coming to terms, as if it was nothing more than a contest and Janine, the prize. How could Patrick consent to this? And how could Bryce accept? Janine's happiness wasn't up for negotiation. This was her life and not some silly competition between two egotistical, headstrong, and stubborn males. 

Given the nature of their conversation, Alex had her doubts if either one of them was good enough for her best friend. At one time, she thought Patrick was. He protected Janine fiercely. Alex still shivered when she thought about how lethal Patrick was with a blade. She was new to this world and Janine offered her the one thing she couldn't resist, blood. When Patrick saw them, he'd assumed the worst, that she had attacked Janine. Pinned to a wall, Alex looked into his eyes blazing with fury, a dagger against her throat poised and ready to kill her in Janine's defense. 

Alex lived up to the reputation of her red hair. Anger boiling over, she stomped into the rec room, prepared to give them an earful and kick both of their asses. "Patrick! How could you do it?" I thought you loved her?" Her brown eyes burned with outrage. She turned to Bryce and stood toe-to-toe with him, jamming her index finger into his chest. "And you, just who do you think you are to insert yourself between them? Exactly what are you trying to prove?" 

Bryce held up his hands in surrender and inched back, knowing better than to say a word. Alex was furious. Obviously, she'd only overheard half of their conversation. And he had no way of convincing her of his true intentions.

Patrick circled around Alex, bringing himself into her field of vision. "Alex it isn't what you think." He gripped onto her shoulders and steered her wrath away from Bryce. "I do love her. And I'm going to fight for her." He smiled in relief. The words weren't really so painful to say. Admitting it didn't hurt a bit. In fact, he felt lighter, more resolved in his goals to win her back. 

Alex interrupted Patrick before he could say anything else. She was starting to calm down, the worst of her temper fading. "Then why don't you tell her? Stop all this bullshit and go get her. Bring her back." 

Alex didn't say a word to stop Janine. She thought Janine would only be gone a night or two at max. Her hope was that Janine would get it out of her system and come home, but she didn't. Alex knew what was out there. She'd seen the damage rogues could inflict, knew the terror first hand. Janine wasn't safe on her own. 

"Alex," Patrick said, keeping his voice calm and low. He understood how Alex felt. The fierce desire to protect her best friend. "She left. I didn't. If she wants a new life, that's her choice. There's nothing I can do about it." 

Patrick knew how much Alex had suffered. Janine had been at her side, suffering along with her through it all. First, rediscovering the love she thought was lost and gone forever, and then losing him in the heat of the battle. When Alex had been transformed, their friendship had been strained. But, their caring had won out in the end. Janine encouraged Alex, teaching her to live again, pushing her, and challenging her, supporting her when she dared to love again. 

"It's not going to be easy. But, you have to try. I can't lose her." Alex grabbed Patrick's hands, holding them tightly in hers. She was terrified that Janine would feel torn between the two men. And if it came down to it she'd leave, remove herself from the situation, rather than hurt either one of them. 

"I'll give it my best shot." He hugged Alex loosely, shooting a meaningful glare over her shoulder at Bryce. 

Bryce leaned against the mantle. He felt like a shit heel. Alex was all but begging Patrick to fight for Janine. Where did that leave him? If Janine chose him over Patrick, would Alex ever accept it? Did she have enough sway over Janine to influence her decision? 

Alex broke the contact and walked over to Bryce. "Bryce I'm sorry. I think you're a wonderful guy and any woman would be lucky to have you." She shook her head and pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Patrick. "But, Janine and Patrick, they belong together."

Bryce jutted out his chin, letting the sting of her words roll off his bruised ego. "Maybe, they don't. What if she chooses me? What will you do then?" 

"I'm in this for her. Not for you or for Patrick. If she chooses you, I'll respect it. If she chooses Patrick, I'll respect it. And if she doesn't choose either of you, I'll respect that too. The only thing I really want is for her to be happy and safe."

"I can give her both of those things," Bryce said.

"I know you can." Alex stepped back, drawing both of the men into her line of sight. "I want you both to know that I won't influence her in any way." Alex scoffed, "Not that I could if I tried. Janine is her own person. Her decisions are hers alone. Just don't let this little agreement of yours get out of hand. I will not see her hurt by either one of you." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. 

Chapter 7

Keene made his purchases and ducked into the changing room. He slathered the coconut-scented oil over his body covering every inch of his skin in the slick substance. Vampires found the smell of human food repulsive. The scent might be potent enough to cover his trail and confuse the vampires. He changed quickly, donning the jeans and long sleeved button down shirt, rolling the cuffs to his elbow. The day was hot, in the upper nineties, and he had to blend in with the crowds. But, he needed to cover the mark that trailed down his right bicep to his elbow. The mark that let other vampires know whom his master was. 

He had no ID and little cash. Leaving any mode of public transportation out of the question. He crept through the loading docks on the far side of the wide arcing beach, looking to hitch a ride. The air was heavy with the stench of diesel. Engines belched out clouds of pungent, thick, black smoke. 

He overheard a driver, bullshitting with one of his buddies while he waited for the dock-workers to finish loading the back of his semi trailer, tell the man that he was working his way on a long haul stretch from the west coast to the mid west. In a week, he planned to be home screwing his redheaded, spitfire wife, and eating fried chicken with his two daughters. Keene's eyes snapped to attention when the man mentioned exactly where home was. 

A week was too long. Roark would be on hot on his trail long before then. But, out of lack of other options, he took what he could get. As the last fork truck pulled out, he silently crept into the back and hid amongst the narrow spaces between the crates. The smell of diesel fuel would help cover his trail. Keene was running for his life. And he was far from feeling secure or being safe.

Roark lifted his dark lenses, squinting against the blinding array of color from the sun's rays. Keene had been gone far too long to still be searching for a drink stand. He sent out a wave of psychic energy summoning the man. But, his call went unanswered returned with nothing but blank emptiness. 

O'Sullivan glanced up from his dinner and licked his lips. Gently, he stroked the soft blonde curls with his fingers. She truly was delicious. Roark chose his meals well. He studied the hardened press of his guest's mouth with great curiosity. He had no particular animosity against the man. In fact, he had no emotions about the man one way or another. The Rogue Master was a small time player and posed no real threat. Yet. Obviously, he couldn't control his own people let alone attempt some kind of a power play. He tipped his head, suckling the blonde's neck to close the wound. To a human it would appear that the girl and he were in the midst of a passionate tryst. "Trouble?"

Roark was going to kill Keene when he got his hands on him. If for no other reason than he'd made him look weak in front of O'Sullivan. He lowered his glasses over his eyes and turned to face the Rogue Master with a smile. "Nothing I can't handle." 

Surely, Keene wasn't stupid enough to try to escape. The man had tried it many times over the years. But, each attempt resulted in a more severe punishment. Eventually, Keene had given up trying, or so he thought. The Rogue Master mussed that if Keene had been biding his time, plotting another attempt to gain his freedom, he would kill his second slowly and show his minions what the true price for disobedience was.

******

Janine walked her bike up the sidewalk, clutching the vase of flowers in one hand and the handlebars in the other. Marveling at the beauty of the afternoon. The concrete beneath her feet was dappled with spots of light and shade as the sun filtered through the trees. The air was fresh and clean, still sweet with the essence of the last of the spring blooms. The smoky aroma backyard barbecues and summertime sweat drifted across the neatly groomed lawns. Out of all the different seasons and times of day, springtime and late afternoon, the hazy hours between noon and sundown, were her favorite. Her heart was light and happy, for the first time in weeks she felt light and carefree.

A gentle breeze stirred the hairs on the back of her neck. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and jumped, startled as Patrick came up behind her and fell into a leisurely gait to match her pace. No matter how many years she spent around vampires, she'd never get used to how fast they could move. "You scared the shit out of me." Janine blushed, scrambling to keep her hold on the bike and her flowers. 

"Here, let me," Patrick said, scowling at the white buds and lavender blossoms. He slid the handlebars out of her grip and pushed the bike. The gears made a steady, soft tick, tick, tick in time with his steps. "Nice flowers." 

"Thanks," Janine muttered softly, slightly embarrassed. She hadn't meant for Patrick to see the flowers. Luckily, she had Bryce's card tucked away in her hip pocket and he had no idea who they were from. She sure as hell wasn't about to tell him. "They were a gift."

"Janine, I thought we could talk for a few minutes?" Patrick clenched the handlebars in his fists to keep from smashing the vase and stomping the flowers to bits on the sidewalk in a fit of rage. Bryce was good, better than he gave the man credit for. And much to Patrick's regret, he hadn't thought of sending her flowers...ever. 

"I'm kind of busy right now." Janine nibbled nervously at her bottom lip. She couldn't tell him that she had plans to see Bryce tonight. It might hurt his feelings and she wasn't sure how he'd react. "I'm meeting a friend later on tonight."

"A friend? Could it be the same friend that sent you the flowers?" Patrick was pushing it and he knew it. But, he wanted to see what she would say and how much she'd tell him. 

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Janine huffed. Patrick was a master at getting under her skin. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. 

"Those aren't friend flowers," Patrick said softly. He guided the bike up the stairs and parked it on the front porch. He held the screen door open while Janine balanced the vase and unlocked the front door with her key. 

"That's what you think." She stood to the side and let him pass. Of course, Patrick was right and the flowers Bryce had sent her were more than 'friend flowers'. Irritated that she'd let Patrick get a rise out of her, she didn't bother telling him why she had plans with Bryce. It truly was not any of his business. Tonight, she had every intention of letting Bryce down gently. 

Janine sat the flowers down on the middle of the dining room table and rearranged the fragile blooms with gentle fingertips before she found the courage to turn and face him. Her heart ached. She longed to leap into his arms and tell him that she still loved him and always would. Her body yearned to feel his touch. She couldn't do it. At the last minute her courage failed and she spun on her heel, gripping the back of a dining room chair for support.

Patrick sensed the turmoil in Janine's mind. He came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist pulling her close against his chest. "Tell me I haven't lost you for good." He pressed his mouth to the gentle curve of her neck and nuzzled the soft skin with his lips. 

Janine swooned, resting the back of her head against his chest. This was right. She belonged in his arms. "I... I don't know," she breathed. Closing her eyes she leaned into him, her knees weak and wobbly. "I'm not over you." A soft moan escaped her throat as he ran his fingers along her chin, gently turning her head and guiding her mouth closer to his.

Patrick took his time, savoring the feel of her body locked tightly against his in an embrace. She was in his arms. Her heart pounded and her skin flushed a radiant pink, responding to the contact of their bodies. "I don't want you to get over me," he said softly. He claimed her mouth, pressing his lips against hers, gently, slowly, teasing and tempting her until her lips parted for him and he slid his tongue in. Turning her by the shoulders, never breaking the kiss, he guided her into him. 

The heat of his kiss seared through flesh and bone, straight to her heart. She held on for dear life, grasping at his shoulders and pulling him closer. His mouth moved urgently against hers. His tongue probed with demanding and hands skated across her the small of her back and grabbed onto her derriere pulling her so close that not even a molecule of oxygen could squeeze between them. 

Patrick ended the kiss, still holding Janine in his arms and resting his forehead against hers. Her lashes fluttered over his cheeks as she opened her eyes to stare up at him "I'll never be over you. Never." He pressed a gentle kiss to the end of her nose and released her from his embrace. "I'd better let you get ready."