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Dawn Revealed

By: msnomer68



The Native Dawn Series Book 10, Rogue Dawn book 6: Kayla and Bryce

Dawn Revealed

Chapter 1

True love, did it really exist? Kayla wasn't so certain. She stood on the bluffs witnessing the union of two souls as one. The couple's unabashed happiness was enough to make her want to believe it did. As jaded as she was about the world though, the term true love was as foreign in it's meaning as words like home, family, security, and friendship. She knew what the words meant. But, she personally, had little experience with them. Everyone had a motivation. Something they wanted. Call it whatever they would under the guise of something more altruistic. But, nobody did anything without a price tag attached. 

Deep inside of her though, a dim flicker of hope hadn't been completely snuffed out by the cruelty of her past. And that vague innermost part wanted...no...needed to believe that anything, even true love, was possible. 

And if it possible, there was nobody more deserving of it than Keene and Lori.

She stood in line and waited her turn to congratulate the happy couple. Lori was the very essence of a blushing bride, positively radiant and glowing with joy. And Keene, although he was still a dangerous powerhouse of lethal threat, was as tame as a kitten at her side. Kayla couldn't help but sniffle back a tear of happiness for the two of them. "Congratulations!" she said as she gingerly rose on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Keene's cheek. 

His kindness was something she'd never forget. No matter how awful her past had been. He'd always tried to make it bearable for her. He had suffered far worse than she. The worst part of it was that their pasts were not yet behind them. And wouldn't be as long as...well she wasn't going to think about that now. Roark had taken enough from her and he wasn't stealing what little joy she'd managed to grab hold of. Ginning, Kayla turned to Lori and asked, "Were you surprised?" 

"Very," Lori answered. Beaming with happiness, she asked, "How did you ever pull this off without me finding out?" She was truly amazed that someone would go to all this trouble to give her one perfect day. The past few weeks hadn't been easy for anyone. Roark had taken so much. A surprise wedding was the last thing she'd expected. And the effort it took to pull everyone together to make her special day happen truly meant a lot. 

"I had help," Kayla answered. She gestured toward Angel with a nod of head. 

Angel stood in the background, alone. Anymore that was how she found herself most days, utterly and completely alone. Ok, so maybe she did dress a bit extreme. But, what better way to set her self apart and keep everyone at a distance? She was trying to make a statement. And it said 'don't fuck with me' loud and clear. It worked. Nobody did. Everyone stayed away from her. Just the way she liked it. 

The only reason she'd agreed to help with the wedding at all was because of Keene. He was, perhaps, one of the few people in the world she actually liked. And if he thought the institution of marriage equated happiness, who was she to argue? There were plenty of other worthy institutions. Yeah, and most people were locked up in them.

Ok, so she was a bit cynical for the ripe old age of twenty-two. But, she had plenty of reasons to be. She really didn't believe in the whole happily ever after thing. Love was temporary. It wasn't meant to last beyond the next bigger and better fascination. Love was like a pretty new toy that everyone wanted and was tossed in the closet the next week. In her world, forever was better defined as for now. But, she pretended, as she did in all things, to buy into it, for Keene's sake. And if a few tulle bows and pretty flowers would earn forgiveness from Lori for the things she'd done. Who was she to argue? 

If they truly meant what they pledged, Keene and Lori were going to be saddled together for a very, very long time. Forever was definitely not her style. She preferred, well she didn't know what she preferred. She'd never had a choice or a preference before, about anything. She lived her life by a very simple creed. She didn't think in terms of wants. Expect nothing. And get nothing. It was a perfect philosophy to live by. And she was never disappointed. 

Angel was not one of those sappy, innocuously happy people. In fact, people who were, like the two blondes making a B line straight toward her, set her fangs on edge. She was fucking fast as greased lightening. And if not for the warning glare from Keene shot straight at her over their heads; she would have left the blushing bride and Kayla choking on her dust. Instead, she pasted a plastic smile on her face and gritted her fangs. 

"Angel!" Lori kept hold of Kayla's wrist and dragged her across the bluffs as she reached out to snatch up Angel's elbow with her free hand. "I can't believe you guys fooled me like this. I don't know how to thank you. Everything is so beautiful," Lori said on a breathless giggle. 

And it truly was. Thousands of clear lights twinkled in the trees, dancing as the branches swayed in time with the gentle night breeze. Like stars floating just above the earth. Seeing Keene waiting for her at the end of a winding path of candlelight and yellow sunflower petals took her breath away. Colorful, vibrant wildflowers and bows of delicate tulle and lace adorned nature's perfect altar. Set for her wedding dance, a bonfire of sassafras and apple wood blazed orange into the night sky. Filling the air with its pungent, sweet scent. Nothing had ever been so magical. And she had never been happier. 

Ever since she was a little girl Lori had visions of her perfect day. The dress, the hair, the cake, she'd imagined every last detail with a child's vivid musings. Of course, the groom had changed over the years along with the posters decorating her bedroom walls. Leo DeCaprio couldn't hold a candle to Keene. Leo might be the king of the world, but Keene was the king of hers. "Thank you both so much," she said, wrapping her arms around Angel and Kayla's shoulders for a big squeeze. 

Lori thought about it as she hugged Angel and Kayla. And the two women were as different as night and day. Kayla was petite and down right curvy, with golden blonde hair worn straight to brush over the tops of her shoulders and clear, almost aquamarine, blue eyes. Very pretty, she had a heart shaped, cherubic face, full lips, and a smile guaranteed to soften any man's rough exterior. Trendy, although conservative her style was simple and a bit reserved.

Angel, on the other hand, although slight, had a lithe athletic build without a hint of softness to her figure. Short spikes of ebony hair with bright pink highlights at the tips, poked up at random angles. With wide set dark eyes and pixie like features, she might be considered beautiful, if not for the hardened, almost sneering expression on her face. She dressed in outlandish gothwear, guaranteed to single her out in a crowd. People were hesitant around her and kept their distance for a good reason. Angel was a loose cannon. You never knew if she was going to smile at you or sink her fangs into your neck. And that tended to be more than a bit of a deterrent when it came to making friends.

Lori sensed the two women's obvious discomfort at the contact and at being in such close quarters with one another. Beneath her grip their shoulders stiffened and they subconsciously shied away from one another and from her. Kayla and Angel were victims of their shared bitter pasts. How Keene ever managed to get the two of them to work together to pull off her big day, she'd never know. Her hubby truly was a genius. 

He'd given Angel and Kayla a common cause to work together for. Lori could see the evidence of Janine's handiwork. Nobody put a wedding together quite like Janine. And of course, she was the obvious choice to bridge the friendly animosity the two women held for one another. Who couldn't help but like Janine? Sure, she was annoying sometimes...well, most of the time. But, beyond that, she had a heart of pure gold. And in her exuberance to achieve the goal, she tended to wear most people, even the two bitter frienemies, into compliance. 

Janine sipped her champagne and congratulated herself on another job well done. Pulling off this wedding had been her biggest challenge yet. No, getting Angel and Kayla to work together and see things her way had been the hardest part. The wedding had been a piece of cake by comparison. And speaking of cake, Lori's was beginning to melt in the late summer heat. 

She sighed and gently eased an icing rose back into place. Aw hell, some things just weren't worth the effort. And the ornate, absolutely to die for wedding cake, Anna had carefully constructed, was one of them. Vampires didn't eat... food anyway. And there was only so much butter cream frosting a handful of humans could ingest. If it weren't for the fact that she never repeated the same theme twice. She'd just stuff it in the freezer for the next lucky girl's big day. But, in her attempt to always one up herself, Janine never reused anything. Each wedding was as unique as the bride and groom it was intended for. 

Licking the icing off her finger, she scowled at the wedding cake as if it were a bitter enemy. And it was. Her curvy figure was the bane of her existence. At barely five-foot two in stocking feet, she had to watch every calorie she put into her mouth. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed she was damned to have more than her share of junk in her trunk. Rationalizing like hell that liquid calories didn't count as actual calories. Janine dipped her crystal glass into the bubbling champagne fountain for a refill.

Shouldn't she be able to indulge, just a little, since she was skipping the cake? Actually, one teeny tiny bite probably wouldn't kill her and there was so much left over. It'd be a shame to waste it. She was about to dig in and cut herself a corner piece when her 'supernatural hostess sense' kicked into high gear. Something was amiss and she would not let it ruin Lori's perfect day.

Staring wistfully at the cake, Janine set down the knife and turned to see what the problem was. Oh yeah, she needed to intervene. Lori, in her oblivious elation, had the two frienemies locked in a group hug, and the expressions on Angel and Kayla's faces...not good. Well, Janine sighed as she downed the rest of her champagne, at least nobody was trying to eat anybody, yet. But, given the scowl on Angel's face, it was a distinct possibility. 

Embarrassed by Lori's praise, Kayla said, "Janine came up with most of the ideas and we just did what she told us to." She gently shrugged to loosen Lori's hold on her shoulders so that she could escape the tightness of the hug. She wasn't a complete touch-o-phobe. But, she didn't like people groping her. Especially, when, like on occasions such as this, even though the hug was friendly enough, she hadn't been asked first. She had her reasons for her aversion to even the simplest, most innocent of contacts. And like all the other bad stuff in her life, she refused to think about them. 

Angel ground her fangs and tolerated the friendly hug. She had learned to tolerate even the most unwelcome touches without showing any emotion a long time ago. She bit back the snide comment on the tip of her tongue at Kayla's flippancy about doing what they were told to do. Wasn't that the same thing they'd always done? Exactly what someone else had told them to? She noticed Kayla's visible pallor at Lori's contact and for a brief instant felt sorry for her. It soon passed as she noticed the blonde dimwit, Janine, who was much, much worse about inadvertent touches than Lori, coming for them with the speed and accuracy of a laser guided missile. Just wonderful. More hugging. She was going to have to shower with a Brillo pad to get the human stink and the lingering sensation of touch off of her skin. 

"I thought I heard somebody say my name," Janine said with a smile. She gently nudged Kayla and Angel out of the way and wrapped Lori up in a big, but very careful hug. Vampires had a habit of mistaking her for a walking juice box and more than one had tried to take a bite out of her. Patrick didn't share. And personally, she preferred not to as well. The last thing she wanted was for Lori's wedding to end up like an episode of the Jerry Springer Show. "Congratulations, girl."

Relieved to be excluded from the hug, Angel and Kayla stared at one another over Janine and Lori's bent heads. The two of them understood each other very well. Friendly enemies or frienemies were like that. You smiled. You played nice. But, you never turned your back on one another. They had to live under the same roof. And therefore they had no choice. They didn't hate each other, so much. But, the hatchet was a little too big to bury in one day or perhaps one lifetime. 

Lori gently extracted herself from Janine's embrace. She had to remind herself that Janine was like the older sister she'd always wanted and it was not polite to bite family. And Patrick really, really wouldn't like it. "Everything turned out beautifully, Janine. And I thought you were just teasing me when you offered to be my wedding planner."

"There are two things in life I never tease about, fashion and weddings. And that dress looks absolutely stunning on you," Janine said, admiring her latest acquisition from Hannah's store. Hannah stocked only the best. And it was primarily for her. The brotherhood kept Hanna's in business...well, she kept Hanna's in business with the brotherhood's money. As for the brothers, they could care less about what they wore. It was up to her to make sure they didn't run around looking like a bunch of ogres on parade. "Gucci is definitely you," she said in appreciation. 

"I don't know about that. But, thank you, Janine. Angel and Kayla, you guys too, thanks for everything."

Janine fanned her face to hide the tears of happiness. She always, always made a fool of herself at weddings and it wasn't because she drank too much champagne. She was a sucker for true love. "Oh, I can't stand it!" She flung out her arms and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Group hug."

Keene stood encircled by his brothers. His back was a bit sore from all the masculine claps of congratulations that had been rained down on his poor hide. Guys didn't do the bawling and hugging thing. Although, the man hug he'd received from Lori's gruff father was a bit of a shocker. That and the stern threat that if he failed to take good care of Lori, he'd shoot him and bury the body somewhere so remote that not even God would find it. 

Keene had received plenty of good-natured harassment about the wedding night along with advice to block his thoughts. The brotherhood had few secrets and what couples did between the sheets definitely went under the heading of TMI. They all knew things about each other that they wished they didn't. Most of the time, you just pretended to be as clueless as they hoped you were. 

He stood a few inches taller than most of his brothers. Which allowed him to get a good look across the grassy flatlands between the spires of gray shale and granite. Janine held the three women in a relentless hug. He didn't understand female bonding. At all. But, he did know the look of a hungry vampire and Janine was about to become the main course. "Patrick, I think we should tend to our women," he said as he maneuvered out of the group.

Patrick rolled his eyes and followed after Keene. Janine was as harmless as a newborn kitten and just as clueless. Sometimes her big heart overrode her common sense and she was always getting herself into trouble. She just forgot that she was human and not everybody else was. He'd hate to have to kill the bride on her wedding day. But, if Lori got the bright idea to take a bite out of Janine, it would definitely put a damper on the festivities. 

He reached her just as Lori's fangs poked out from beneath her upper lip. Gently, Patrick wrapped an arm around his wife's waist and guided her out of the group hug. "Janine, you're hogging the bride." 

Chapter 2

Keene pressed a gentle kiss to Lori's cheek and eased her out of the group hug. That had been a close one. Janine had no idea she'd almost been added to the list of refreshments. "We should mingle with the rest of our guests. I think your mother has been looking for you." 

Lori took a deep breath. Just the slightest press of Keene's lips against her skin and she forgot about how appetizing Janine and Kayla smelled. She reached up on her tiptoes and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. He was a beautiful man, rugged and handsome, not in a coiffed cover of GQ kind of way. He was staggering in his good looks. And his smile completely took her breath away. 

His reddish-orange hair hung loose about his shoulders and curled into loose spirals at the ends. And his gray eyes, the eyes she'd once thought were so cold. Sparkled with warmth, love, and the heated tinge of lust. Good to know she wasn't the only one thinking what she was thinking. Like him, she could not wait to make her rounds through the guests and start the honeymoon. Too bad her mother would probably yammer on and on for hours and spoil the mood completely. "Do we have to?"

Keene kissed Lori on the forehead and drew her close to the line of his body as he steered her toward her mother. She fit against him perfectly, nestled in the crook of his arm. He didn't want to mess up the women's handiwork. But, he could not wait to pull the pins out of her hair and run his hands through the sleek blonde strands. To see her green eyes glisten in heat as he worked her out of the sundress and worshiped every inch of her until she begged for mercy. 

Not even the eldest Grant female could dampen his desire for his bride. At least now he knew where Lori had gotten her tenaciousness. With fiery dyed red hair and the attitude of a terrier with a bone, Ginger Grant was a true force to be reckoned with. No wonder her father was so stoically quiet whenever his wife was around. He couldn't get a word in edgewise. But, Keene admired Ginger. When her daughter had needed her the most. No matter what, as a mother, she'd wanted for her little girl. She'd stepped up to the plate with no small measure of acceptance and love. No, he didn't want to pay homage to his mother. But, it never hurt to stay on Ginger's good side. 

Ginger stood by the punch bowl and downed a third glass of the sweet concoction. Mixed with a hit of champagne from the fountain, it wasn't half bad. She sighed as her daughter and Keene strolled arm in arm across the bluffs toward her. Ah, the beautiful babies the two of them would have made. She imagined a mix of Keene and Lori's genetics and sighed wistfully in longing.

Oh well, there was always Maggie. At almost sixteen and with those curves, Ginger was going to have to beat the boys off her youngest with a stick. Thank God, Maggie didn't have her older sister's social graces, not that she wasn't acceptably polite, most of the time. But, she preferred books to people. And that was fine with Ginger, until after Maggie graduated from college anyway. 

"Oh, there they are." Ginger squealed in delight. Her daughter had never looked more happy or radiant than she did today. Lori made a beautiful bride and Keene a dashing groom. She wouldn't trade a dozen chubby, strawberry blonde grandbabies for her daughter's happiness or the smile of absolute joy on her face. 

As a mother, she wanted good things for her daughters. And for Lori, Keene was good. But, she still held out hope she'd get those grandbabies, yet. And she'd do everything in her power to make sure of it. That included ensuring Maggie didn't follow in her sister's footsteps. 

Keene stepped graciously out of the way as Lori's mother dragged her off a distant corner for 'girl talk'. He was grateful 'girl talk' didn't include men. When it came to handling Ginger, he was a novice. And there was nothing more frightening than a determined Grant female on a mission. Maybe, he'd get to be alone with his wife sometime before dawn. 


Dawn Revealed



Maggie sat in a chair, pretending to read a book. But, what distracted her the most were all the hot guys mixed in with the ordinary looking crowd. Of course, they were all way too old for her, by decades if not more. But, she could still look and admire the view. Her mother had stuffed her into a dress. As always, one of Lori's grungy hand me downs. And she looked ridiculous, the bodice practically bursting at the seams from trying to restrain her curves. 

The dress was too small and way too low cut for her humongous boobs, and definitely out of style. There was only one person who looked more ridiculous than she felt, and that was her dad. Tuxes and truckers did not mesh well. But, at least, she wasn't alone in her misery. 

That was the thing about being the younger sister. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Lori. She was. And Maggie was absolutely flip dizzy to have her out of the house for good. But, everyone tended to ignore her, especially on a day as important as this. That was ok. She was used to it. And Katniss Everdeen was far more entertaining than some dumb old wedding anyway. 

Maggie stared longingly at Lori and Keene. Lori was so pretty and never had a shortage of guys crawling after her. And of course, her older sister's fanged state hadn't changed her looks at all. If anything, she was prettier than ever. Maggie couldn't get a boy to give her the time of day. It wasn't fair. And without Lori around to torture, she was the sole focus of her parent's attention, especially her mother's. If she had one more pamphlet with nasty pictures of rashes in unmentionable places shoved in her face, she was going to hurl. 

Her parents did their best, she supposed. Life at the Grant household wasn't intolerable. But, it wasn't exactly the Brady Bunch either. Maggie sighed and rested her chin in her palm. In a few weeks, she'd be sixteen. Sixteen. Finally. Just two more years of suffering under her parent's rule and she'd be free. She couldn't wait for the day she finally grew up. 

Chapter 3

"We're a great team," Kayla said. She lifted her hand for a high five and quickly dropped it as Angel pinned her with a pained scowl. Shaking it off, Kayla stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt and accepted that any friendship she had with Angel would be tenuous at best. And that was a shame. Despite everything else, nobody at the compound had really gotten to know Angel and understood the circumstances behind her standoffishness. The woman was utterly friendless and alone in the world. Although it was by her own design, everyone, even Angel needed a best friend. And Kayla was the closest thing she had to one. 

The two of them never spoke of it. But, they shared the same terror that haunted them every time they closed their eyes. Roark was out there somewhere, biding his time, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And no matter how safe and protected they felt. Until he was dead, it was only an illusion. 

Angel rolled her eyes at Kalya's well-intended gesture of friendship. How could Kayla be so readily forgiving? How? Did the brotherhood spike her Coco-puffs with Prozac or something? She'd wanted Kayla dead less than a month ago. And she would have done it too. If something loosely called her conscience hadn't gotten in the way. Even a morbid soul like her needed a friend every once in a while. Kayla and Keene were the closest things she'd ever had to a real friend. 

Sure, it was her fault and she had nobody to blame but herself. She repelled people with her attitude. She hid behind her toughness, her cold standoffishness, and her goth girl attitude out of fear. Only the people closest to you could hurt you. And if nobody ever got close, she couldn't be hurt. Kayla should be pissed at her. If the roles were reversed and Kayla was the one with the fangs and the hideous fashion sense, she would be. But, Kayla was trying to move forward out of her past. Angel clung to it and used it as a shield to keep everyone at a safe distance. 

"Agreed. Just don't tell anyone that I arranged the flowers and made the bows. It'd ruin my image," Angel said in the snarkiest tone of voice she could manage. For the life of her, she could not figure these people out. They tried so hard to be normal on the exterior. And when she'd first arrived, everyone had gone to the extreme to make her feel welcome and fit in. It just wouldn't work. She wouldn't let it. For the most part, she didn't trust people who were nice to her. Or take good things that happened to her at face value. Hidden amongst the fluff and puff of smiles, there was always a catch.

"Never." Kayla snorted and shook her head. Angel had a real talent for decorating. The flowers and the bows were beautiful. Who would have guessed the woman could color coordinate so well when black was the only color, besides the pink tips of her hair, that she wore? Kayla got it. The clothing and 'I'll bite your head off' personality was Angel's way of coping. Angel wore black as a means of silent rebellion against her past. Much the same way Kayla would never ever wear frilly lace or pink again. Granted, their gesture was lost on most people. But, to the two of them, just having the freedom of choice even in the color and style of their clothing was everything. 

"I think someone is looking for you," Angel whispered into Kayla's ear. The guy was a little hard to miss in his obvious hanging out in the fringes. He wandered through the guests; meandering about like a lost puppy in search of a handout. As if nobody would notice his eyes constantly drifting to Kayla. Angel had caught on to it long before today. But, thought the better of saying anything. Maybe, Kayla was pretending to be clueless on purpose. And given everything they'd gone through, who could blame her? 

Currently, Angel would rather poke her eyes out with a rusty nail than look at a man in any other way but platonically. She wasn't a lesbian. But, she just couldn't even stomach the thought of a man putting his hands on her or actually welcoming his touch. It was too soon. And she couldn't let her past go yet. Maybe, Kayla was more resilient than she. "Go on," Angel said, giving Kayla a not so gentle nudge. "Go talk to him."

"Just because I'm human doesn't mean you can push me around," Kayla grumbled in protest. Bryce didn't know how fucked up she was on the inside and she wanted to keep it that way. Nobody would ever find out, especially him, if she had her way about it. Of course, she couldn't hide her past from Angel and Keene. They knew, everything, because they'd lived in the same nightmare too. It was easy to pretend none of it had happened and she was just as normal as anybody else. She wasn't. And deep down only she knew how broken she truly was. The night Roark came to the bluffs and she'd almost ran to him and thrown herself in his arms brought the reality of her depravity crashing down on her head.

Bryce was the only man who'd ever looked at her as if she were anything other than a whore to be used. Once upon a time, Roark had been charming. But, even he saw through the thin veneer of her pretend innocence. Bryce was clueless. Oh, he guessed. But, he could never imagine how deeply the things she'd done...had been forced to do...had corroded her soul. How could she ever explain it to him without him thinking that she was a total freak beyond damaged? How much differently would he look at her if he knew? She scrambled to regain her footing on the dewy grass. "Great, now I look like a dork." She straightened her skirt and regained her composure.

Goading Kayla into action, Angel chastised, "Don't be so high school. If you don't talk to him and stake your claim, I'm going to have to assume he's up for grabs." Angel buffed her black nail polis against her elbow length gloves and admired the sheen. Bryce wasn't bad looking. And she enjoyed looking a lot. But, not the touching part. He was everything a male should be. Tall, dark, handsome, and brooding, and absolutely safe, considering Kayla was the only woman in his universe. 

Jealousy was an emotion Kayla knew little about. It had no place in the life she'd been forced to lead. But, she felt a strong surge of it as Angel ran her dark eyes hungrily over Bryce and licked her lips. "You wouldn't dare," Kayla hissed. She'd been avoiding Bryce, covertly, for weeks, ever since their return from the city. She just didn't know what to say to him. She'd been so certain that she was going to die. Holding his hand, cuddling in his lap, accepting his comfort on the fringes of her death, seemed like such a natural thing to do at the time. When she returned to the compound in one piece, she'd ran for cover. And he, along with her past, became just another of the things she pushed to the back of her mind and couldn't find the strength to face. 

"You're right. He's way too white bread, middle America for my tastes. Boring." Angel said with a slow, disinterested drawl. One thing, no matter if she ever got her shit together enough to think about men, was for certain. Dark haired men, although attractive, held no appeal to her. Not since Roark. That was one thing he'd taken from her that she'd never get back. 

Kayla exhaled a squeak of disbelief. Bryce was too good looking for his own good. Was Angel blind? He had completely shocking gray eyes that pierced right through her. A full head of thick, wildly wavy, and totally out of control, dark, almost black hair that curled around his expressive jaw in absolute disarray. His deep, Mediterranean, olive skin tone gave him a hint of mystery and foreboding. His tall, lean, muscular build, complete with the broad shoulders and narrow waist and firm butt, just meant for squeezing in the throes of passion, melted her strongest resolve anytime she got within ten feet of him. He was hardly repulsive by any means. Kayla shivered in delight whenever her thoughts wandered to him. 

Yeah, Kayla was well on the road to recovery. The sweet scent of her lust for Bryce choked the air. "Go get him," Angel chuckled. She gave Kayla a gentle nudge in his direction and thwacked her on the ass to get her moving. "Lori shouldn't be the only one getting some."

Kayla glared over her shoulder and gathered up her dignity. The smack on the ass had been intended as a playful gesture. But, it hit a little too close to home and the twinge of fear she'd felt at the strike went straight through her. It brought back too many bad memories. Huffing at Angel, Kayla growled in irritation, "Don't you have someplace to be?"

"What?" Angel snickered. "And miss all the entertainment. Its like Animal Planet with all the mating going on around here." She shrank under Kayla's annoyed scowl. The smack on the ass and the teasing had been too much. Regrettably, she guessed she didn't know how to be a good friend. She shouldn't have done that. Not with the past so close to the present. And she was sorry she'd slipped for the briefest moment and forgotten. Turning on her heel, Angel melted into the night without a trace. Without as a bent blade of grass or a leaf out of place to indicate that she'd ever stood on the spot.

Chapter 4

Bryce dutifully suffered through yet another ceremony. The pages of his black book, not that he had one, were growing thinner and thinner as another available female was taken off the market. By the time Lori skimmed his radar, she was already head over heels for Keene. And he was still recovering from the latest and hardest blow to his ego. Admitting defeat and delivering Janine into Patrick's arms was by far the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. But, the arrival of a pert, although reluctant, petite had done wonders to ease his suffering and speed his recovery. Kayla was something special.

He spotted Kayla from across the broad, flat expanse grass. She stood guarded but, casually joking with one of her friends. Angel, reminded him of something out of a bad gothic novel. But, Kayla was like a cool breeze on a hot day. Refreshing and clean. There had been a few stolen kisses, a little playful banter, and a lot of shy glances and coy smiles pass between them.

Feeling her eyes on him, Bryce shot her a wide smile. Kayla had done more than trip his radar. She sent it into overdrive. The way she responded, in such shy hesitation, gave him a pretty good hint at her feelings. She was as interested in him as he was in her. Maybe, if he kept up his gentle persuasive pursuit of her. In time, he'd win her heart. Her past, and he could imagine how traumatic it had been, was the only stumbling block left between them. 

Vampire hearing was a powerful asset in the game of love. He tried to appear cool. But, as he overheard his name mentioned in the conversation, he listened in. Never hurt to know what was on a woman's mind, especially Kayla's. He scowled as Angel called him 'boring' and too 'Middle America' for her tastes. And grinned as Kayla squeaked in shock in his defense. Angel had the goth thing down pat. But, somewhere under that tight, black leather corset and all that cleavage beat the heart of a true matchmaker. At least he had one person in his corner. Counting Janine who was as desperate for him to find his love match as he was, maybe two. Nervously, he shuffled his feet as Kayla started walking in his direction. 

A part of her wanted to turn around and run away. Bryce was too good for her. She was nothing more than damaged goods in a pretty wrapper. What could he really see in her? The things she'd done in her past were the stuff of nightmares. If he were to know the list of all her sins, there was no way he'd want her. Hell, he wouldn't even look her in the eye. Her feet kept moving forward, listening to the other part of her. The part that reminded her that he'd shown her every kindness. He would understand that her past was just that, the past, and that she'd done the things she had out of necessity, for her survival. She was a good person and she deserved to be happy.

"Hi," Bryce said softly. Kayla was as nervous as he was. Her heart beat in her chest like that of a frightened rabbit's. He could feel the heat of the blood that rushed to fill her cheeks. He could smell the nervous energy that surrounded her. Good signs? Bad signs? With women, who could tell? 

"I never got a chance to thank you," Kayla said, ducking her head to stare down at the grass rather than meet the warmth of his eyes. 

"For what?"

"For protecting me." She bit her bottom lip nervously. During the heat of the battle, when he could have abandoned her to help his brothers, he stayed by her side. "And for what you did to help Angel and Lori," she added. Bryce had saved Lori's life and had brought Angel back from the brink of self-destruction. 

"It was my pleasure," Bryce replied slightly embarrassed. "As long as I'm around, you'll always be safe. I'll make sure of it." Slowly, he inched forward and ducked his head to engage her stare. 

Kayla blushed furiously under the heat from his eyes and the sincerity of his words. "I just love weddings don't you? Wasn't Lori positively radiant?" She stammered, changing the subject.

"I didn't notice Lori. My attentions were focused on someone else," Bryce admitted. His eyes had been glued on Kayla from the moment she stepped out of the woods and onto the bluffs. She looked fresh and summery in a thigh length brightly colored skirt and matching silk tank. Her scent was unmistakable, she smelled soft and feminine like roses. 

As far as the wedding, he didn't remember many of the details. Flowers, candles, bows, a bride and a groom, they were all pretty much the same. He was a guy. As long as it wasn't his wedding, what did it matter if the flowers were pink or salmon or the bride wore white or eggshell? "Yeah, you did a great job. The wedding was fantastic," he muttered, fibbing through his teeth.

"Angel helped." Kayla added modestly.

"Well you guys did a wonderful job." He edged close enough to gently brush a mosquito off her shoulder in a seemingly casual gesture. It was really anything but. He just wanted to touch her. But, was afraid that if he were direct. It would send her scampering for shelter in fear. He wanted her where she was, right next to him.

"Thanks." She pretended not to notice the effect the light brush of his fingertips had on her. He was rescuing her from a pesky insect and an itchy bite. Nothing more. Self- consciously, she took a step back. "Ah," she stuttered as her mind struggled for something else to say. Something safe that wouldn't lead to an in depth conversation about anything in particular.

"So, what are your plans?" Bryce asked. His biggest fear was that Kayla might believe the threat from Roark was over. And that she might be thinking of leaving the shelter of the compound to return to the city. He wanted her right here where he could do as he promised and protect her. Dane was still pissed at him and it wouldn't matter how much he begged or what the reason, he was still stuck here. 

Kayla shrugged. "I don't know. I hadn't given it much thought." She honestly didn't have a clue. She liked living in the compound. The people, most of them fanged, made her feel welcome enough and she appreciated the safe harbor they offered. She wasn't stupid or naive enough to think that Roark's threat on her life was over. He'd never give up unless he was forced to by something as drastic as death. Hers or his, either one would serve the purpose.

"Well, there's only a few more weeks left of the summer. But, I bet Robbie would sure appreciate having some help at the shop." 

"The shop?" Kayla was curious. She'd never had a real job before. She'd done things to earn money. But, working and earning a paycheck had never been in her realm of experience. She couldn't imagine such a thing as a job, a checking account, or normalcy would ever apply to her. 

"Yeah, Robbie owns an ice cream shop here in town. What's the Scoop? And well, Lori's kind of out of commission for a while. Unless, Robbie wants her trying to eat the customers." Bryce chuckled. "So, she could probably use an extra pair of hands."

"I'm not a charity case," Kayla grumbled, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. She had money, plenty of it. She'd been planning her escape from Roark's clutches for quite sometime. She had been squirreling away every spare cent she could get her hands on and entrusting it into her best friend, Mr. Smiley, her fuzzy pink bear, for safekeeping. Creatively and gradually she'd replaced his stuffing with wads of cash until she'd finally been brave enough to make a run for it.

"I didn't mean to implicate that you were," Bryce snipped back. "I thought you'd enjoy getting out of the compound and having something to do. You just might find you actually want to stick around. Instead of feeling stuck here because you feel like you have to. " He toed the grass nervously with the tip of his boot and stared down at her. 

"You know, you'd be doing her a huge favor. Lori's little sister has been bugging the crap out of Robbie for weeks. Robbie doesn't have the heart to turn her down. But, Maggie is too young to run the shop unsupervised. Janine works there too, off and on. But, since she and Patrick got married. It has been more off than on. Robbie really needs the help. It's only till the week after Labor Day and then she closes for the winter."

"What about ah... you know." Kayla swallowed hard, referring to Roark or one of his many minions. She might be spotted if she were out in the open pretending to live a normal life in the sleepy little town. 

"Trust me, Robbie is perfectly capable of handling anything that comes her way. And when she's not there one, of us will be. I promise you'll be well protected." He wanted to add that he personally would be guarding her, no matter if Robbie were around or not. But, he didn't want her to think that he was going stalker on her. So he left that trivial piece of information out.




Dawn Revealed



"I'll talk to her." A real job would be a nice change of pace. Earning her way instead of pinning her hopes on the scraps that fell off someone's table. She smiled up at Bryce. "Thanks." She faked a yawn and glanced at her watch eager to escape before he could trap her into talking for hours. "I really should go."

"Mind if I walk you to your room?" 

"I don't want to keep you from the party." 

"Oh, you're not. I was on my way back anyway." In a moment of courage he grabbed her hand before she could jerk it away in protest. He guided her through the darkness of the woods and to the compound. He slowed his steps, prolonging their time together as he walked her to her room.

Kayla gave up and allowed Bryce to escort her all the way to her bedroom door. But, the minute she was in the well-lit corridors of the compound and no longer needed his help to guide her. She slid her hand out of his. The contact felt too intimate and awkward. Even though it was nothing more than two people holding hands. It felt too much like a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of thing for comfort. "Good night," she said, pausing at her door. 

"You know if you need anything, I'll be around." He leaned casually with one arm resting on the edge of the doorframe. With his free hand he traced a line along her jaw. He longed for the tiniest peck on his cheek, something to give him a hint that her heart was softening to him, just the littlest bit.

"I know. Thanks again." Kayla slipped under his arm and gently closed the door shutting him out. She had feelings for him that went beyond casual friendship. And they terrified her. For so long she'd lived without any choices at all. For so long, she came when called, like a dog. She didn't know how to respond to a man who showed her genuine interest, beyond the services she could provide on her knees, back, or whatever position he preferred. 

To those kinds of men she'd been nothing more than a source of amusement to pass the time and after Roark found her, a meal and shiny toy. Otherwise, she was totally insignificant to any man. She wondered when she would have a sense of her own self worth. When her guard could be let down and she could live again.

Kayla took a long hot shower, scrubbing her skin until it was a glowing red. As if a few bubbles and swipes with a loofah would wash her clean. She was dirty, stained, and soiled on the inside, not the out. She slid into her nightgown and beneath the sheets. Squeezing Mr. Smiles tightly in her arms she settled into a troubled and fretful sleep. Dreading the nightmares that haunted her dreams.

Chapter 5

Angel spotted the vampire looming in the treetops, watching her below him, with too much curiosity. She cocked her head and glared up at him. He was like a ghostly specter, practically ethereal in his pallor. His hair was so blond it was almost white against the dark backdrop of leaves. His skin was translucent in the moonlight. Dressed in his black combat gear, if not for his pale face and his scent, she wouldn't have noticed him at all. His eyes were his darkest feature. A brown so intense, they were almost black. And they were pinned on her. 

Angel hated being stared at almost as much as she hated being spied on. A sly smile slid across her lips. If this vampire wanted to play, she definitely could. She was fast and had confidence in the fact that he wouldn't catch up with her unless she wanted him to. She would definitely make his night more interesting, if he somehow managed to catch her. Tipping her head, she goaded him with a daring grin. Before he had a chance to react, she bolted into the darkness.

Lance was bored out of his skull. He was high up in the trees, contemplating jumping, not that it would kill him or even cause him the slightest harm. But, it would be something to do. He was on patrol, as usual. Dane was pretty strict in his punishments. And Lance had been out here every night for months. Since the brothers returned from the city, things had been dead quiet, too quiet. He missed the hustling pace and the miles of concrete that were once his to guard. His exile wouldn't last forever. Eventually, Dane would get over it and ship his ass back to the city. He hoped. 

So what, they'd blown up the Rogue Master's house. Could happen to anyone, right? Actually, Marcus was the mastermind behind the idea. Lance personally didn't know TNT from a firecracker. But, cutting the gas lines to make it look like an accident to the humans. That had been all on him. And Dane had made him pay for his part in the incident ever since. 

He caught the female vampire's scent, wild and exotic, like jasmine on a hot summer night, long before he saw her standing down below, staring up at him with voyeuristic curiosity. His first instinct was to climb down and offer her a brief, but very satisfying midnight rendezvous in the bushes. She was a culmination of beauty and the beast. On the outside, she was easy on the eyes, lithe and athletic. She looked damn hot in that tight leather corset and black lace. And the boots, she could walk all over him with those numbers on her feet any day. On the inside though, he sensed the caged beast growling low in agitation at its confinement. She was the girl his mama had always warned him about. Too bad, he'd never listened too much to what his mama had to say. 

Her dark eyes locked with his for a brief second and then the coyest, most seductive smile he'd ever seen played across her lips. That woman had the most kissable mouth he'd ever laid eyes on. He hadn't kissed anything except for Dane's ass since he got here. The locals were off limits, Dane's rules, not his. And at this point, after so many months of punishment and cold showers, even female livestock was starting to look pretty damned appealing.

With a daring glimmer in her dark eyes and a smile that went straight to his groin on her lips, she dipped her head to him and then darted into the woods. Leaping down from the treetops against his better judgment. He bolted into the night in hot pursuit of his Dark Angel.

Angel sped through the dark woods bobbing and weaving her way through the trees. The pale vampire was close behind, but no match for her speed or agility. When she was running, she could almost forget the problems of her past that weighed heavily on her shoulders. It was as if she could leave them behind and outrun them. She slowed her pace, for a few minutes, to make the game more interesting and to fool him into thinking that he could catch her. She heard his pounding footsteps, so soft that they were inaudible to humans, growing closer. Filling the silent woods with laughter she poured on speed, leaving him behind.

Lance cursed, thinking his prey was growing weary of the game. She was the fastest vampire he'd ever seen. Although he could easily follow her heady jasmine scented trail, he couldn't catch up. Pouring on speed, he slid through the woods, enjoying the thrill of the hunt. The dark, tempting vixen might be hard to catch, but not impossible.

Chapter 6

Roark hated country life. Hated it. Fresh air did not agree with him. He missed the confusion and the noise of the city. Abandoning his posh penthouse for this remote, secluded hovel had been a strategic move on his part. And this lush green corner of hell was one he was certain the brotherhood had no knowledge of. Completely private and off the grid, the shack didn't boast even the most basic of luxuries. But, of course, he'd been around long before electricity and indoor plumbing. He'd lived in far worse conditions than these. And then he'd died. 

His minions though knew nothing of the concept of sacrifice. Surrounded by fools and incompetents, he'd like to believe that he'd weeded out the bad and kept the cream of the crop. But, it simply wasn't true. He'd kept the bad and eliminated the worst. His 'army' was filled with simpering idiots and cannon fodder not worth the time it took to kill them. The best he could hope for was that the brotherhood would find them and do the job for him. 

Damn the Great Father. If the bastard hadn't shown up when he had and saved Keene's miserable ass. Roark would have had his former second's worthless head stuffed and mounted above his mantle by now. Damn the daylight. If dawn hadn't risen over the city skyline, Roark would have pressed his attack while he still had a half assed army behind him to do it. He'd had the numbers to take the Sons down. There was but one law and not even he could break it. Humanity could never know. 

His next attack would be carefully and strategically planned. And the battle would definitely start when there was plenty of time to finish it. Defeat was unacceptable. There were too many deserters and traitors still walking upright and very much alive. Keene was number one on his list. Followed closely by Angel. He'd saved the bitch's life and she'd run straight into the arms of the enemy the first chance she'd gotten. And of course, he couldn't forget his little Kayla. 

Roark couldn't afford let the three of them live. Word of mouth was the only thing standing between him and a bigger, meaner predator. To save his reputation, they had to die, slowly and painfully. Everyday they lived made him look a fool. He was a Rogue Master, not a sniveling weakling. His ruthlessness was the only way to prove it.

There was only one man he held more hatred for than Keene. The Great Father. And yes, the man was going to pay, dearly. 

Roark thought back to the fateful day on the battlefield, when he'd first met the Great Father, nearly two centuries ago. He had a vested interest in the outcome of the battle. Not because he clung to any particular ideology. But, because the battle represented the one thing he held dear. Acquisition. America was a wilderness of untold wealth and riches. And he was an investor, nothing more. Human life meant nothing to him then. And it still didn't beyond the necessity of it for his ongoing survival. He could have never imagined the bloodthirsty nature of the beast named progress. The Great Father and his band of followers were simply in the way. 

Outnumbered by the Americans and abandoned by the British, the Natives under Tecumseh's command began to flounder. Hungry for power and confident in the victory, Roark grabbed a weapon and jumped into the midst of the fray to sate his lust for death. It was his bullet that tore through the Great Father's human skin and ended his mortal life. Tecumseh was only a man. A human. If Roark had known then what the man was destined to become, he would have taken the time to make sure that the man was good and dead where he lay bleeding the ground red. But, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

The rumors were true. Tecumseh's body was never found among the dead on the battlefield because there was no body to be found. Roark had underestimated the loyalty of Tecumseh's men, and the power Tecumseh's miserable goddess, Kokumthena, their benevolent Grandmother. Tecumseh's men had gotten him clear of the battlefield and taken him to his brother, the Prophet, in hopes he could be healed. Once Tecumseh was out of danger, Kokumthena had transformed him from a mere mortal warrior into a patriarch. If Roark hadn't shot him in the belly and left him to die, the Sons never would have been born. Tecumseh would have lived and died an ordinary human death and he'd have been dust in his grave long ago. 

Organized, lethal, and with a cause to serve, Tecumseh fathered his followers. Small in numbers, but the most feared of all vampires in the immortal world. The Sons' sole purpose was to uphold their goddess's edict. Protect human life at all costs. A noble endeavor to be sure. Roark had no argument with that. Someone had to police the rogues that got out of hand. And only a vampire with a death wish crossed the Sons. He had no problem with the Sons taking out the trash. But, as usual, the Great Father was in his way. 

The only sacred law among the vampires was that humanity could not discover their existence. Vampires were the stuff of legends and myths, Hollywood B movies, and cheesy paperbacks, and they needed to stay that way. If some small shred of evidence did leak out, the truth was quickly glossed over and dismissed as utter bullshit. Humans loved their bullshit and in their desperation to believe they were at the top of the food chain, they clung to the lies fed to them. 

If humanity began to suspect or see irrefutable evidence of his kind, it could be the end of the vampires. After all, he'd seen humans and the havoc they wreaked time and time again. There was no more ruthless or lethal force on the earth than a human armed with a righteous cause. The vampires were woefully outnumbered. And with technology...Roark shuddered to think what the humans might do to them, if they knew the truth. 

Roark had been beaten back for the last time. The fact that the Great Father lived at all was a serious insult. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And currently, that was a healthy dose of revenge. He'd delivered the Great Father into the hands of death once. And he could do it again. Only this time, he'd make damn good and sure the bastard was good and dead. Then no vampire with a shred of sanity would stand against him. He'd have it all at the Great Father's expense. The entire country, hell maybe the world, would see him as the master he was meant to be. Oh sure, he'd kill Keene, Angel, and his precious Kayla. But, there'd be no sweeter victory than putting the Great Father in his grave, for the last and final time. 

The strange thing of it was, Roark respected the man. In life, Tecumseh had been a powerful orator and a motivator of men. He'd done everything in his power in an attempt to save his people and preserve his home. It just wasn't enough. Fear had a way to turning brother against brother and sending even the bravest scurrying for cover. Nothing stood in the way of progress. There was a land to conquer, railways to build, and a country to be born. Not even a man as great as Tecumseh could have stood in the way of the future. 

In death, the Great Father was still just as magnificent of a force. And his men followed him out of loyalty. He had a charisma that drew people to him. He made them want to believe. And belief was a dangerous thing. Roark could not fault the Great Father for being who he was. It was more to the point that he could not allow him to live.

Coal was the name of Roark's vengeance. After the battle when the land sat empty and free for the taking. Wiley as a wolf, the Great Father had slipped in the back door and snatched right out of the hands of the very men who sought to take it from him. Somehow the man knew what lay beneath the ground just waiting to be discovered. And he'd made a fortune on what was at the time the very lifeblood of the world.

Roark preferred shinier things. He'd gone further west to the pacific shores to the gold mines of California. And while he'd amassed a good deal of wealth, he always begrudged the Great Father for stealing the coalmines out of his grasp. A wiser man might let it go. Coal no longer dominated the world. And the mines zigzagging beneath the earth were stripped clean long ago. Roark's gold mines were every bit as barren. And the battle for today's fortunes was fought on an imaginary but just as bloody front. Stocks and bonds were the future's shiny gold and rich black coal. How odd it was that a man could be worth millions and never physically hold a dime of it in his hand. 

Oh, it wasn't just their history that made them bitter enemies. Roark might have seen his way clear to let it go, if the Great Father hadn't imposed his lofty morality on the world. What right did he have to tell them how to live? And over the decades, the Great Father and his mighty Sons had taken out plenty of good men. Vampires did what they had to do to survive. They delivered death. Discriminately and under the cover of darkness they preyed on the humans. But, not all were so discriminate. And it was those few that Roark agreed, needed to die. Let the Sons put them down. Rid the world of the filth. 

Roark didn't prey on the innocent. Goodness left a bitter taste in his mouth. He dined on depravity and the weakness of the human soul once it was completely devoid of one shred of decency. Ok, so he usually was the one who corrupted the innocent and then sucked them dry. But, who was the Great Father to nominate himself judge, jury, and executioner? 

Surrounded by idiots and fools, Roark knew he didn't stand a chance against his adversary. His minions were spineless pieces of shit. And without Keene to train them, Roark had an army of doorstops, if they were even that useful. He needed something to trump the Great Father's power. Something not even the Prophet, the Great Father's visionary brother would foresee. And he knew exactly what it was and where to find it. 

Deep within him existed a force so dark, so evil, that nothing could stand against it. Roark had been just a boy when the darkness sought him out, a child of fifteen, a poor, starving peasant boy with no future and no hope. Romanced by the idea of ultimate power, he offered the darkness his throat and became one with it. 

The darkness had its way with him and he'd done its bidding willfully and without remorse. Murder sated the beast. Suffering was its siren song. And in death he found bliss and the evil, sweet release. The early years had been horrific. Terrifying. And the darkness had made him its unwilling slave. So powerful it was that he huddled in caves and dark places to save humanity from the full fury of its wrath. The world was a lot smaller then. And he would have bled it dry. 

He was no longer a terrified child. And the darkness no longer ruled him. He was in control. And as long as he fed it, the evil did his bidding. He would stand before the darkness as a man. He no longer had a frail boy's body or innocence of face. He'd aged, so painfully slowly over the centuries. To a passerby, he'd appear in his early twenties. Attractive. Youthful. A perfect disguise. It wasn't till they saw the truth in his eyes before they died that they learned the secret of the ancient being inside of him. 

The darkness called to every vampire. It was the heart and soul of every rogue and death to those too weak to control it. Not even the Sons were immune to its seductive whispers. Eternally damned and insatiably hungry, the evil begged to be fed. And over the centuries, Roark had fed it well.

Perhaps, there was more to the Prophet than Roark realized. The man had tried to warn him off this course. As if the Prophet knew what he was about to do. And maybe, he did. There was no salvation for him anyway. And no other means to achieve his goal. Roark stared out into the dawn, gritting his fangs at the agony incited by the glowing orange orb. Inside of him the darkness pulsed and balked in fury at the light. Forcing his focus on the sun, he called to the maker of them all and welcomed the darkness home.

Chapter 7

Kokumthena wandered about the lush, emerald green meadow. Inhaling the fresh, gentle, scent of earth and fragrant, fragile blossoms bursting with new life. Above her head fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across a picturesque blue sky. A gentle breeze, neither too hot or too cold, rustled in the leaves whispering to her its secrets. A doe grazed in the waist high grasses without fear of the hunt. The spirits of her brown-eyed children frolicked in the nearby woods, giggling joyously in their pursuit of play. In the distance the current of the Great River splashed against the rocky shore. There was no night; only one endless, absolutely perfect day. 

To some, her realm was heaven and to others, hell. But, to her, it was home. The Great River separated the land of the living from the land of the dead. And in this shadowy netherworld, between life and death, she reigned supreme. She could be anybody she chose to be. Alter her appearance to appease the spirits that drifted through this place on their journey to the afterlife. Her true form was beyond the limited capacity of human understanding. The human soul was infinite as she. But, the human mind was very small and finite in what it could comprehend. 




Dawn Revealed



Her physical appearance would frighten the fragile things, if she chose to show them her true form. For their sakes, she did not. She took on a corporeal body. Walked with earthy feet and touched with flesh and bone fingers. After an eternity of the disguise, she found the body a comfort to her. Eternal beings were neither male nor female by birth. They just were. And much as her father had chosen the masculine. She'd chosen the feminine. Slight of height and small in stature, Kokumthena taken on the form of an old woman with pure white hair and wrinkled, bronzed skin. She found that form suited her best and soothed the confused souls that arrived on her peaceful shores. 

It was her job to see them across the Great River. And for the most part, she was successful. But, the determination of the human spirit was never to be discounted. Sometimes there were those who refused to cross. She did what she could for them. Kept them as happy and content in her nether realm as possible while she tried to coax them across the River to the true home that awaited them. She felt sorry for those ethereal souls stuck in between worlds. But, the dead had no business in the land of the living. And it was up to her to see that they did not return. 

Her duties were endless. Spirits that slipped through the fragile boundaries frightened the living. Ghosts. Spirits. Phantoms. Poltergeists. There were countless terms for the spirits who found their way back. Once on the ethereal plane, she was limited in her abilities to corral them. The dead had to return of their own accord. And the departed did not loose their hold on the living easily. Sometimes, souls simply refused to believe they were dead. And they'd do anything...anything for one more day of life.

The ones that believed in the joys of the afterlife were easy to convince to cross the River. The humans who had a little warning that they were going to die or those who had suffered a particularly cruel life usually were happy to cross. The most difficult of spirits to coax to the other side were the ones who had died violently or suddenly. And as humanity grew in its ability to steal life prematurely, so had her difficulties in getting the souls to the other side.

Sometimes, it took a while for souls to figure it out. They just refused to believe that their bodies were no more. Even when confronted with the rituals surrounding the interment of their bodies to the ground. They simply would not let go of their hold in the mortal plane. It was those confused, fragile beings she sheltered until the day they finally accepted what they were and crossed the River. Love sometimes bound them to the living. Sometimes, it was hate that held them fast. And for a few, it was both of the emotions combined. 

Kokumthena glanced up from the daisy chain she'd been fashioning and sighed. The warrior waded in the current. His eyes glancing from one shore to the other as his feet stayed firmly planted in between them both. She thought he'd convinced himself to cross. That he'd found the peace he'd been searching for and would go to his reward. He had not. Oh, he knew he was dead. His issues were resolved and he had his closure with those he'd left behind. But, it was almost as if he were waiting for something or someone. And only he knew what it was.

Pleased that her daisy chain would stay tightly knit, Kokumthena tied it around the wolf's neck to form a collar. The vibrantly colored petals stood out in stark contrast to his perfect white fur. The wolf panted and thumped his bushy white tail against her calf as he slicked her fingers with his long pink tongue.

The Great White Wolf, Psaiwiwuhkernekah Ptweowa , was her companion in this world and her link to the human realm. And he had always been by her side as her only friend. Unlike her, he could take physical form in a corporeal body. It was her gift to him. And she never denied her wolf the simple pleasures of being alive in the truest sense of the word. 

It was a perfect, or so she believed. Not even a goddess was completely infallible. Her Sons protected the humans and her wolf guarded the borders of the spirit world. That was, until the day the Prophet, hunting for game hadn't realized he'd stumbled across her wolf and thought him prey. As a very young and inexperienced vampire he set on her companion to drink his blood. To die in the physical world was to cross the River. Kokumthena would not lose her best friend to death. And to preserve his life, through the power of his preternatural blood, she'd merged the Prophet's and the Great White Wolf's life forces as one. 

The Prophet fathered a race, much as his brother had. Not born of blood, but of body and soul. Humanity would call them shape-shifters or werewolves. She knew them only as her friends. They were his secret to share with whom he chose. And he'd never breathed a word about them to his brother. Perhaps, he feared his brother's jealousy or wrath at the unfairness of it. His brother fathered his Sons from his blood. He altered life. But, he could never create it. And he'd been powerless against time to watch his human children age and die. It was not so for the Prophet. He gave life. It was born and it grew and flourished.

When not summoned by their hosts, the spirit wolves guarded the borders of her realm. Strangely enough, there were those, humans powerful enough to breech the barrier. That fervently sought to gain entry before their time. Psychics. Mediums. Soothsayers. The living were not allowed here any more than the dead were permitted in the human plane. And there were dead, souls, who would not loose their hold on the living and tried desperately to escape into the mortal world. The wolves kept in those in need of keeping in and out those who didn't know any better than to try to get in. 

Kokumthena waved her hand and fashioned a mat out of the fragrant grasses and wildflowers. Stretching out on her back she stared up into her perfect sky and sighed in contentment. The wolf yawned and rested his head on her stomach. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears. Chuckling as he grunted in happiness. He stared up at her with arctic blue eyes, filled with the wisdom of the ages. They both knew that this fragile peace was not destined to last. The time was close. And there were precious few days left. 

As the creator of all things, her father had fashioned the brown-eyed children as a gift to her. But, it was she who breathed life into their fragile human bodies. He formed the lands they called home. But, it was she who protected the lives they sustained. Kokumthena had never known physical pain or pleasures of the flesh. She was pure of both body and of soul. Human suffering broke her heart. And as for pleasure, it was her gift to her Sons. 

She lived in happiness. Content with the gifts her father had given her. While her brother and sister, despised their father and were never satisfied with his endless attempts to win their love. They spited her father with a vengeance that knew no limits. They were spoiled rotten, indulged by the very man who loved them too much to kill them for the good of his finest creation. Humanity. 

Her brother and sister tainted humanity with their evil. They whispered in human's ears and caused mankind's fall from grace. War, greed, selfishness, and hatred were her siblings' creations. And not even for all the destruction they wreaked on the unwitting humans, were they satisfied for one minute. They wanted more, ultimate revenge on the man who had birthed them, loved them, and indulged their every whim. They created the first vampires with the power of their immortal blood. And still for all their hatefulness and spite, her father would not end them or the abominations they loosed on humanity. 

Out of sheer despair and his unending faith in his children, he'd contained her siblings. But, their unholy offspring were left roam free to fulfill the purpose for which they'd been created. It was the hunger, the rampant disregard for human life, and the threat it represented to humanity that led her to search out a great leader to create a race of warriors brave enough and strong enough to battle against them.

Although, the rogues possessed a threat to humanity, they were nothing compared to the threat of her siblings should they find a release from their prison. Her twin brother and sister had been silent, dormant for millennia. She stroked the lush silver-white fur of her wolf in contemplation. Her siblings had been quiet for too long. And she feared they had found the means of escape they'd been searching for. She'd cautioned her children about the Windigo, the ultimate evil. But, Roark was not her child and he'd ignored the warnings of her prophet. His heart was too black and too hardened for even the threat of his death to soften it the slightest bit. He was bent on revenge. And nothing could stop what he was about to set into motion. 

Kokumthena rose to her knees and hugged her precious wolf to her body as if she could protect him from what was to come. Thick, black, storm clouds boiled their way across her perfect blue sky as inky darkness tainted with evil blotted out the sun. A harsh bitter wind tore at the trees. And the spirits of all worlds cried out in a collective voice of terror. The wolf howled and his children accompanied him creating an eerie mournful sound that echoed through the core of her immortal being. Fear and sorrow haunted his arctic blue eyes. "It is time," she whispered through her tears. As omniscient as she was, there was nothing she could do to change the future. His future. Death came for everyone. Even those she loved. 

Chapter 8

The Prophet rolled over on his mat of leaves and pine needles and blinked against the brilliance of the rising sun. He rarely required sleep these days, an hour or two here or there, whenever the mood struck him. Last night his slumber had been troubled and restless. And when the dawn finally came. He snapped awake, grateful for the reprieve from his dreams. 

He and his brother came out here often to camp and escape the mortal world. Being in the woods like this, isolated with nothing but one another for company was reminiscent of the old days when they'd been young men bent on a quest with nothing but their lofty ideals to sustain them on their journey. Over two hundred years later, they were still on a quest and still fueled by a young man's dreams. 

Not really that much had changed, except for the players and the field in which the battle would be waged. The Prophet tucked his knees under his chin and studied his older brother. Even in his slumber, the Great Father was as stoic as ever. His jaw slack and eyes closed, he dreamed of the future, always the future. He wondered what his brother saw in it. What hopes the man held dearest to his heart for the golden promise of tomorrow when today hadn't even begun yet. 

Being a prophet wasn't nearly what it was cracked up to be. And the Prophet felt the weight of tomorrow down in the hollows of his weary soul. He poked at the smoldering remains of a campfire with the end of a charred stick watching the embers flicker. He wished he could share his brother's enthusiasm for tomorrow. But, he didn't, not when he had such of limited amount of todays left to live. 

In her wisdom and mercy, the goddess hadn't spared him from the visions of his future. Perhaps, it was better to know and to prepare for the dark days yet to come. And perhaps, it wasn't. His followers once called him by a name he rarely heard anymore, Tenskwatawa, the Open Door. And when it came to his future, he wished the door were firmly shut. 

He would miss this life. He would mourn the people he was destined to leave behind, especially his big brother. He'd always idolized the man who seemed so much larger than one lifetime could contain. His brother was built for immortality. Born to lead men. And somehow, even in the days before the goddess blessed him with foresight, Tenskwatawa knew he was going to cross the Great River long before his brother found refuge on its peaceful shores. 

He had not told his brother of the things to come. His death was his burden alone to bear. And he would not have his stoic big brother mourning him when he was not yet dead. Life was for the living. And the two of them needed to enjoy every second they had together while they still could. There would be time for mourning and for sorrow and the hot bitter tears of grief soon enough. But, the Prophet took no comfort in the fact that his brother would shed a single one for him. 

Not even in death would he abandon his brother. From the spirit world Tenskwatawa would look down on his brother. Guide him. Comfort him. Whisper to him on the winds and reach out to him with the fingers of a gentle breeze. In all his years of living, he had but one regret. His brother had shared his gift and given him many more years than a mortal man should have. And in return, he'd kept his a secret from the man he was closest to. 

He'd had his reasons for guarding his secret so zealously. Why he'd hidden his children away. They had to be protected. They were the only thing standing guard between this world and the next. If the spirit wolves or their hosts were exterminated, there would literally be hell on earth. Every soul with a grudge or a score to settle would return to seek its vengeance. Death didn't change a heart filled with cruelty. Such souls didn't willingly cross over for a reason. They knew what awaited them on the other side. And there were living every bit as depraved as the dead. And who better to deceive than a desperate soul?

A spirit wolf could not live without its host nor could a host survive without its wolf. They were symbiotic life forces dependent on one another. It took powerful magic to hold them bound together. The pack was interdependent on one another much in the way of a natural wolf pack. There was an order in which they lived. And it was through the unity of many living as one that the magic flowed. As powerful as it was, the magic could be broken. And without it to bind them together, either the man or the wolf dominated. But, the two of them were never rejoined. One or the other died. 

Their lives were not easy. And the beast influenced the man in all things. But, the man also influenced the beast in much the same way. And as such, laws were harsh and punishments steep. There was no compensation granted for the weak. The lesser wolves were kept in line by a strict code. The fight for supremacy, to be Alpha of the pack, was never ending. 

The spirit wolves were ruthless in ways a human could never comprehend. The Prophet would never try to tame them. They were as the goddess intended them. A natural Alpha, his brother expected his men to follow him without question. He chose those who would succeed him if the unthinkable were to happen. With the sprit wolves, his brother would have to earn his place in the pack as the Alpha. They'd never blindly obey him. 

The Prophet knew how things would turn out. The promise made him brave enough to face death. Tecumseh was a strong man. And he would learn how to best lead the spirit wolves much as he'd learned to lead his Sons. The path he'd walk would not be an easy one. There were no mistakes in the outcome decreed by a man's destiny. And this was his brother's, to unite the spirit wolves and the brotherhood together for the common good. Dying for the future was a noble thing to do. And for the love of his children and his bother he was willing to sacrifice his life.

His brother would fight his destiny every step of the way, as he always had. He would bear the yoke of leadership stoically and without complaint, with a grace and dignity few would manage in his place. In darkness there was light. And his brother would not walk this path alone. The Prophet rested his back against a tree stump and watched his brother sleep the deep sleep of the untroubled. No, the man would never be alone. Through his death, his brother would find his most precious life in the gift entrusted into his safekeeping. 

The Prophet snickered as his brother rolled onto his side, snorted in his sleep, and reached down to give his balls a healthy scratch. Sometimes, Tecumseh didn't realize how truly human he still was. Only when he was unguarded as he was around him, did he let it show. Last night, they'd stretched out on the soft ground, talked about the old days long past, and fallen asleep as they tried to count the stars. Yes, he would miss this life. And out of all the wonders in it. He'd miss his brother most of all.

A gentle wind rustled the leaves of the trees. And in that soft breeze, he heard the voice of his goddess whispering to him. It was time. His heart heavy and his body weighted with the burden yet to come, the Prophet called to his wolf and drew its familiar presence to him. He had one final journey to make. And this one was his to travel alone. He did not wake his brother. Let the man sleep while he could. 

Giving his body over to his wolf, he took on the form as well known to him as his human skin. The wolf paused at his brother's side and sniffed, drawing in the comfort of the familiar scent. Marking his fur with the essence so that the pack would know his brother's scent. He bent and gave his brother a lick on the cheek, tasting the lingering salty taste of his skin on the tip of his tongue. Without a backward glance, the wolf trotted into the woods, carrying himself and the man always within to their shared destiny. 

Chapter 9

The Great Father hated flies. Hated. Them. He swatted at the nasty bugger that landed on the tip of his nose. And cursed as it buzzed around his head to land on his shoulder. He grunted in annoyance and refused to think about how many piles of cow shit the fly had visited before it lighted on his nose. The foul creatures had plagued his existence since the day he was born. He sat up and fished in his pocket for his sunglasses, parking them on the bridge of his nose. Daylight was every bit as annoying as the fly. And he was particularly sensitive to the sting of its golden yellow brilliance. 

Squinting beneath the protective lenses, he scanned the campsite for his brother. Daylight had never seemed to bother the man one least bit. Maybe, in the beginning his brother had found the blinding rays of the sun as much of a burden as he did, but not for long afterwards. The Great Father had never envied his brother's ability to walk in the sunlight. Some things just were. It was how the goddess worked. Much as he was blind to the future and his brother was not. But, that had been a gift from the goddess that the Great Father had never wanted any part of. No man should know his destiny. And more often than not, knowing had been a heavy burden for his brother to bear. 

Where was that no good brother of his off to now? The campfire was cold and the mat of leaves and grass his brother had used for a bed were scattered in the breeze. He must have risen with the dawn and promptly ditched him. Having left him to sleep, his brother was probably miles away from here by now and off doing only goddess knew what. He was always doing that. Leaving him behind. 

Oh well, at least it wasn't a club teeming with horny, drunk humans or the middle of the Nevada Test Site this time. He was only a dozen miles or so from home, an easy jog, for a vampire. What was his brother up to this time? He was always so cryptic and vague whenever the Great Father asked him about his mysterious disappearances. Sometimes he'd be gone for better than a month before he showed up as if he'd merely stepped out of the room for a bit of fresh air. Where did he go? And what did he do when he got there?

The Great Father was an expert tracker, especially when it came to tracing his brother's footsteps across the country. He'd been doing it for over almost two centuries in an attempt to answer the riddle of his eclectic brother's whereabouts. But, his brother was always one step ahead of him. And the Great Father had never been able to pin point the man's exact location whenever he went on one of his mysterious quests. Most of the time, these days, he didn't even bother with the effort. His brother would disappear and then show up when he got good and ready to. 




Dawn Revealed



There was only one thing the Great Father hated more than flies and that was secrets. He stood and toed the campfire's charred remains to make sure it was out. The Prophet had been hiding something from him for far too long. He would track his brother to the ends of the earth if he thought it would solve the riddle for once and for all. But, it wouldn't. His brother was not one to be pushed about anything. And he wouldn't reveal a thing until he was good and ready.

He could not afford to leave his Sons without his leadership. Things were dire and his men needed him. The Great Father mussed that he had a bit of his brother's second sight. Because somehow he knew hell was about to rain down on their heads. He hadn't felt this particular sensation of dread since the day he led his men onto the battlefield and he died. He could do without this particular worry. And he wouldn't have a need to be worried if his brother hadn't stopped him from killing Roark. 

He had the man at the point of his sword and was more than ready to send him to the spirit world. But, no, his brother babbled some nonsense about the time not being right. What the hell? Was there ever a better time to eliminate the enemy than when you had them in your sights? He knew better than to not listen to his brother the almighty Prophet. And he'd let Roark go free. And now, the threat was greater than ever. 

It was his job to protect and lead his men. After a lifetime of war, leading men to their deaths was the only thing he knew. He was a strategist. But, Roark was too difficult to predict. He played by no rules. And held no respect for life. There was no telling what he would do to get what he wanted. And currently, that was the heads of the brotherhood on a platter. 

There was more than just loyalty that held him to his Sons. He never spoke of the past. And he certainly didn't favor one son over another. But, he loved them all equally. Quite a few of them were direct descendents of his human line. Dane was his great, great, many times great nephew. Will was his great, great, great, so many greats grandson. And John Mark, the resemblance to his youngest son was uncanny. He'd been a father before he became the Great Father. And he always saw after his family. 

His family, both human and Son was scattered across the country. This place was special to him, the land of his original home that he sought to protect. But, he had many places to hang his hat and rest his weary head. He visited as often as he could and left leadership of the remote brotherhood to those called to lead. This path was not for everyone. And he'd never begrudge anyone the right to a normal human life. He watched and waited for his brother to guide him to the ones destined to follow in their footsteps. 

And there were others, human members dedicated to the cause. He hated to see them age and die. But, much as he begrudged no one the right to a human life, he denied no one who chose it, a natural human death. Alex's parents, Leigh and Alexander, had chosen such a path. Dedicated to their daughter and to the brotherhood, they shared their gift of life. And he, in return, when the time came, would honor their memory.

Passed down from generation to generation from the time this land was as wild and untamed as the people who called it home, Ginger, Lori's quirky mother, was another such human. As a tender young woman, she'd worshiped the ground he walked on and fallen in such deep enamor of him that he'd had no choice but to break her fragile heart. Something he regretted deeply to this day. He could have offered her forever. But, she was too young to understand life in terms of forever. And he could not take that away from her. 

He was a leader. And with leadership came great responsibility. He zealously guarded what was his. His Sons. His human family. And a woman just didn't fit into his life. It was too dangerous. He just couldn't afford the risk to her, to the brotherhood, or to himself. His life didn't allow him time for the luxury of a woman's affections. Eternity had a habit of wearing a man down to the marrow of his bones. And going it alone was not easy. 

Sometimes, the Great Father wished for a softer, gentler companion than his brother. Someone to share the secrets of his soul with and ease his burdens, someone he could love the way a man and a woman were meant to love. He was not an ugly man. And he could have his pick among many beautiful females. He'd known love and he considered himself fortunate for that. And it was hard to endure eternity alone. But, he'd never found that special woman strong enough...hell, crazy enough, to share a life at his side. And until he did, if such a woman existed, he'd just have to grit his fangs and endure. Prophet or not, he was certain that he was destined to walk his path alone. 

In all these years, his brother had never taken a woman as a companion either. At least, not that he knew of. But, of course, maybe that was his brother's secret and the reason behind why he disappeared. A woman would explain a lot. Somehow, the Great Father doubted it though. His brother loved only one woman in his life. And she'd died many, many years ago. 

The Great Father scowled at the sun as it crept higher into the morning sky. At its full height, the sun would be unbearable. And although he hated to leave the quiet of this remote place, he had to seek shelter from its blinding rays. 

He sniffed the air for traces of his brother's scent. Curious about which direction the man had gone. There was something, a musky undertone beneath the lush smell of pine and farmland. A scent he had not smelled in over a century and one that did not belong here. 

Wolves had been driven out of this part of the country long ago. Hunted to near extinction. And this land was not part of Brother Wolf's natural habitat. To his mischievous cousin, Brother Coyote, this was home. But, Brother Wolf preferred secluded places the hand of man had not yet clutched in his fist. But, the Great Father did not doubt what he smelled and it was the pelt of a wolf. 

Chapter 10

Kayla knelt in position. Wrists clasped tightly between her fingers, behind her back. Knees parted, slightly wider than her hips. Feet and ankles tucked neatly under her butt. Chin down. Eyes focused on the floor. Mouth open and waiting. Today, Roark wasn't in a particularly kind mood and he'd left her kneeling like this in wait for him for over an hour. 

Naked except for a diamond-studded collar around her neck, she shivered from the chill of her bare skin against the hardwood floor. Her legs were numb from lack of circulation. And her back ached from holding the position for so long without relief. But, she didn't dare move a muscle unless he told her to. Frigid air from the air conditioning vents swirled over her skin, puckering her nipples to sharp peaks. He sat in his wingback leather chair with a leg crossed over one knee and his fingers rapping against the arm in silent contemplation. From the vantage point of her downcast eyes all she could see was the toe of his black loafer, tapping out the agonizing minutes of her punishment. 

She wanted to scream. And in her mind she did. But, that was exactly what he wanted her to do. Beg him. Her pride knew no sense of self-preservation and she refused to plea for his mercy. She'd done nothing wrong to earn this. And she would not apologize for something when she had no idea what it was. The clock on the mantle above the vacant maw of the fireplace ticked so agonizingly slow. Her muscles shouted and clamored for the slightest bit of relief. She held them rigid and still, maintaining the position. She'd collapse into a heap before she breathed a word of contrition or uttered the slightest whisper for his mercy. 

Keene stood in the corner to her right. Stoic and utterly expressionless, only his gray eyes registered the slightest hint of sympathy for her. Shame over her nudity had been beaten out of her long ago. Kayla wanted to lift her chin in defiance. But, she knew better. That too had been beaten out of her. This small act of refusal was the last strand of rebelliousness she had left in her. 

She shifted her eyes up to hazard a glance at the antique hands of the mantle clock. Fifteen minutes had passed and her body howled in agony, protesting her stubbornness. Her shoulders were on fire from being held extended behind her back. Hot tears welled beneath her lashes. An hour and fifteen minutes of torment, kneeling at his feet. Finally, Roark stood. The dim light of the room glistened off the tips of his damnable shoes as he closed the narrow distance between them. He mercilessly gripped her hair in his fist and jerked her head up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked in a voice as seductive and sleek as silk against her skin. Before she could answer, he forced her head down to the floor to the tips of his shoes. "Kiss them."

Kayla did the one thing she should have never done. She resisted. Arching her back and twisting her cheek away, she balked at his demand. He jerked her from the floor by the gold ring on the collar. Choking her with the diamond and gold collar worth more than her life. The fury in his eyes seared her all the way to her soul. Her legs numb and unable to support her own weight, she dangled from his grip. "Is a simple gesture of loyalty too much to ask, Kayla? Is it?" he growled. "The sight of you sickens me!" he roared, tossing her to the floor.

She coughed and sputtered, scrabbling to force her stiff joints to bend so that she could resume her position. Stifling her tears, her body quivered with fatigue. He toed her hip with the tip of his shoe and ran it between her thighs to part them. "If only you'd just learn your lesson the first time, I wouldn't have to go to such extreme measures to gain your compliance," he said. Roark's voice was laced with mock concern over her disobedience. "You may go. Keene, send Angel in to assume Kayla's punishment. Shame really," he tsked. "While you lounge under my roof in comfort. Eating the food I provide and wearing the clothing I so carefully choose for you that she should suffer so for your disobedience. But, I can not allow your misdeeds to go unanswered." 

"Master no," Kayla gasped. Angel was his newest acquisition. She was untrained. She didn't know. And she would not last five minutes in his private rooms. Kayla bent and pressed kisses to his shoes, tasting the leather and polish on the tip of her tongue as she licked her way over the shiny tops. "Please, forgive me. I'm sorry," she pled, wrapping her arms around the legs of his expensive cashmere dress pants. He shoved her away and gave her a harsh slap across the cheek with the back of his hand. 

Trembling, Kayla assumed the position. Her knees cried out in anguish at the chill and the bite of the hardwood floor beneath them. An unwanted tear slid down her burning cheek and dripped from her chin. Her bottom lip quivering as the last of her pride dwindled to a fading spark. She dropped her eyes to his feet and clasped her wrists behind her back. Roark stroked her hair and moved his hand to release the zipper of his fly. "Good girl," he softly whispered. 

Kayla snapped awake gasping and clutching the sweat-drenched sheets to her body. Nauseated and trembling, she barely registered the soft knock on her bedroom door. Panting, she pushed back the covers and stood on shaky legs. She could still feel the cold tightness of the collar against her throat. It was just a dream. A nightmare yanked from her memories to replay in horrid detail behind her closed eyes. 

She was safe in the compound. Surrounded by familiar walls and people who cared about her. Roark didn't own her. He never had. He was nothing. She needed a minute before she answered the door to pull herself together and wipe away the bitter remnants of the nightmare from her mind. "Hold on a sec," she shouted. 

If Bryce had a tail, it would be wagging furiously at the sound of Kayla's voice from the other side of the door. He was proud of himself and was beaming at his powers of persuasion. Convincing Robbie to give Kayla a chance had taken no small amount of begging. Robbie was more protective of that shop than she was of John Mark. But, he'd finally won her over, thanks to his incessant badgering and the fact that he was going to be on her ass like a festering boil until she agreed to hire Kayla. 

Grinning like a schoolboy with a crush on his kindergarten teacher, Bryce clutched the neon green 'What's the Scoop' t-shirt in his fist. Today was going to be Kayla's first day of gainful employment. Impatient to share his surprise, he knocked on the door again. 

Hands still trembling from the horror of her dream, Kayla fastened the belt of her robe firmly around her waist. Only one person was brave or stupid enough to pound on her door so incessantly at this ungodly hour of the morning. Bryce had better have a good reason for waking her up. Gritting her teeth to keep from being a total bitch to him, she yanked open her bedroom door and blinked against the blinding neon green t-shirt he held in front of her face. 

"Good morning, beautiful. You have to be at work in two hours," he said. 

Kayla pushed the hem of the t-shirt to the side and stared at Bryce. "You mean?" She blinked in disbelief at the number of favors he must have called in to pull this off. She had no employment history. Hell, she wasn't sure if she still had a social security number. 

"Surprise! You just became an official wage earning, tax paying member of society. You have a job!" Bryce chuckled at the shock registering on Kayla's pretty face. Her eyes were puffy and heavily lidded with sleep. Her hair was tousled and stuck up at odd angles. And a sheet wrinkle marred her left cheek. Her robe and nightgown hung at an odd angle from her shoulders. Maybe, if she'd awakened in his bed, wrapped in his arms, she could look even more beautiful than she did right now. But, he doubted it. 

Kayla snatched the t-shirt from Bryce's hands and smoothed out the wrinkles with her fingertips as she folded it. Neon green looked good with her blonde hair and her tan. The cartoon ice cream cone embroidered on the t-shirt smiled sappily up at her. She'd never worn a work uniform before. She'd never had a real job before. And like all good things, there had to be a catch to this. "How much do I get paid an hour?" She had no idea what minimum wage was. "When do I get paid?"

"Um, I don't know. I didn't think to ask Robbie," Bryce answered. He hadn't considered Kayla might actually want to know how much money she made. But, it made sense that she would. He didn't worry about things like paychecks and hourly rates. The brotherhood provided him with whatever he needed. He received a small stipend to cover any extras he might want. As far as sweating it from one paycheck to the next or budgeting for necessities, he'd never had to worry about things like that. Somebody around here did. He just didn't know whom. 

"The one thing I do know though is that you'd better get moving. Robbie runs a tight ship and when she says be there at nine thirty on the dot, she means it. You don't want to get fired on your first day. So shake a leg," 

Chapter 11

Kayla stood on the other side of the counter. Her mind was swimming in malts, shakes, slushies, and cones. She never realized how many different flavors and types there were. Robbie was very patient with her. Never yelling whenever she'd make a mistake, and there were a few. Those damned little curlicues that Robbie made on the end of each cone were impossible to duplicate. Hers turned out more like lopsided O's than actual Q's, if they turned out to be anything other than a blob at the tip. Robbie assured her that she would get the hang of it. But, Kayla wasn't so sure. 

Bryce had driven her into town and dropped her off promptly at nine thirty. He'd had to practically shove her out of the SUV and drag her into the shop. She'd just been so nervous she couldn't get her feet to move. He'd done this for her. And she was certain she was going to screw it up. She'd had no experience at anything. And the one thing she had, sure as hell wasn't making curlicues out of soft serve. 

By the time Robbie declared her fit to run the ice cream machine, the slushie maker, and the cash register, Kayla had gained a small amount of much needed confidence. Wiping her hands on the apron around her waist, Kayla grinned at Janine in triumph. Robbie opened the shop for business at eleven AM sharp. And Janine was the first customer of the day. "I think I got it right this time," Kayla said, handing Janine a chocolate shake complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. It had taken her two tries to fill Janine's order. Who knew making the perfect milk shake took so much skill? 

"I swear this is my last one. Ever," Janine said. Ice cream dribbled down the side of the cup and onto her fingers. Kayla had a lot to learn. "After this, I'm on the wagon." She took a gingerly sip and smiled. "Perfect."

"I still can't get over it, five bucks for a milkshake," Patrick playfully grouched. Unwrapping his arm from around Janine's shoulders and fished a ten out of his wallet. "Hopefully, this time I won't wear it." 

"Its too good to waste on the likes of you." Janine snickered fondly recalling the argument with Patrick that resulted in her tossing a large chocolate shake in his face. She could feel her ass growing wider with each swallow. But, it was really, really good and she wasn't one to throw food away. "See ya." She winked as she waltzed out the door with her hand casually tucked into Patrick's back pocket.

"Well, how am I doing for my first day?" Kayla asked nervously. Not wanting to disappoint Bryce. She was trying as hard as she could to do a good job and give Robbie no cause to regret hiring her. 

"I'm suitably impressed. You're a fast learner," Robbie replied. Kayla was a hard worker. And Bryce had been right on the money when he sung her praises. The curlicues would come in time. She wasn't worried about it. She loosened her shimmering red hair from its tight bun and shook it out in a wavy cascade over her shoulders. "In fact, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll be in the back if you need anything."

"Thanks," Kayla said, blushing at the praise. It meant more to her than Robbie realized. Determined to earn her keep and her seven dollars and twenty-five cents an hour, she grabbed a rag and scrubbed at a spot of hot fudge on the counter. 

Kayla couldn't help but notice the hilt of a dagger bulging beneath Robbie's slightly oversized hot pink t-shirt. Kayla knew bits and pieces about Robbie. Small talk she'd overheard at the compound. Robbie was John Mark's wife. And she was a warrior, like him. Robbie had fought in the trials, gone a round of hand-to-hand combat with Keene and she'd kicked his ass. Which in Kayla's opinion meant the woman could handle herself just fine. She also knew that Robbie had inherited the shop from her parents after they were killed in an accident. 

Kayla understood Robbie's pain over losing her parents. She too had lost her mom and dad way too soon. Her mother died of cancer and a big part of the man her father had been died with her. Shortly after her death, he became withdrawn and abusive, especially towards his only daughter. He preferred to pretend that she didn't exist. Except for when he drank, and then he turned the full force of his rage on losing his wife on her. . His neglect drove Kayla to the streets. If life was but a dream, life on the streets was a nightmare. In a way, she should be thankful to Roark. If he hadn't come across her when he had, one of the other bottom feeders would have. 

At first Roark was the answer to her prayers. He took her in, fed her, and clothed her. He vehemently forbade drugs or alcohol in his home. It didn't take her long though to realize that her new luxurious lifestyle came at a price. A price paid with her body and her blood. But, it was better than living on the streets and surviving by sheer luck.