3 comments/ 23484 views/ 30 favorites Dawn Rising By: msnomer68 Dawn Rising Alex whisked a brush through her thick, crimson waves and gathered them up into a ponytail, banding them tightly at the nape of her neck. After applying concealer to the dark rings under her eyes, disappointed with the results. She brushed a light topcoat of powder across the bridge of her nose and to her cheeks. She shimmied into the dark brown, woolen pants and jacket outfit chosen for work the night before. The beige silk shell under the jacket did nothing for her pallor. The forest green one would look better against her red hair and would make her brown eyes pop. But, she thought with a shrug, at least she was dressed. Looks came secondary to getting to work reasonably on time. She eyed the gleaming, black, metal of the cane, resting in its corner by the front door of her apartment with menace. She and the cane were not friends. The desire to be normal and not to be seen as an invalid overruled common sense, her limp, and the throbbing in her limb. Just as she was gathering her purse and sliding her stocking feet into a pair of sensible brown loafers, her cell phone rang. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she said into the phone, not bothering with hello. Nobody called her at this time of the morning except for one person. "Don't worry. I know it's my turn to buy." She got the same call every morning. The call that sometimes sent her rushing for the front door dressing as she went, and sometimes simply gave her the strength to get her shit together and get on the proverbial bus of life. She and her best friend Janine hopped the eight- fifteen commuter train everyday, riding together to the Midtown Station. From there, they walked, parting company a few blocks later. Janine was an accountant at a very prosperous firm. Alex was curator of the Native American Exhibits at the Museum of History. Not exactly power careers, but at least their jobs paid the rent. Approaching the coffee shop, Alex glanced at her watch and blew out a relieved breath. Almost late...again. Her limp, courtesy of the oncoming storm, had really slowed her down this morning. Janine stood at their corner, juggling two large mocha latte's and her ATM card. "Sorry, I'm late again," Alex apologized sheepishly. Janine shrugged her shoulders in reply, shaking her heedful of short springy blonde curls, dismissing the apology as she handed her a paper cup of steaming coffee. Sometimes, Alex envied Janine. They were total opposites. Janine was in a word...cute. Pixie sized, with a tiny waist and small bone structure, Janine barely topped five-foot four. Expertly engineered curls, manipulated into soft ringlets around her face, the strands dyed in various shades of blonde for the ultimate effect, highlighted her button nose and cherubic face. The makeup, Janine would not be caught dead without, exemplified her wide blue eyes, the color of a sunlit ocean, thanks to contact lenses, and plumped her pouty lips to maximum fullness. Janine worked with what she had and chose colors and clothing styles that made her look chic without appearing overstated and unapproachable. She was outgoing and energetic while Alex was reserved and way, way too shy. Janine never had a shortage of dates on Saturday nights. Alex usually stayed at home curled up on the couch with a good novel. Janine went through men the way Alex went through books, one after the other. Alex had a stack of books piled up on her nightstand. And Janine's address book was filled to the point of bursting. Maybe their differences were what made them best friends. Someone with similar tastes and standards would not be able to tolerate their individual quirks and habits. Janine and Alex walked the short distance to the train station, sipping at their coffee as they waded through the throngs of commuters clad in dismal shades of black and gray. Janine noticed Alex's slower, limping gait. "Would you rather catch a cab this morning?" she asked. The concern in her voice was carefully hidden behind a lilt of lightheartedness. "It's my treat. Visa, its everywhere you want to be." She hated to see her BFF in pain. Hated Alex's stubborn refusal to use the cane and take the pills that could ease her suffering. Alex seemed to revel in her martyrdom. And sometimes, Janine wanted to kick her square in the butt with the pointy toe of her shoe for that. Alex shrugged her off, "Nah, it is always worse when the weather is going to be bad. If you need to, go on ahead. I can catch the next train." Stubbornly, she bit her bottom lip against the throbbing limb and determinedly sped her gait. Janine glanced at the diamond and 14K gold watch on her right wrist, a gift from...heck she couldn't remember his name. But, she loved this watch, and frowned. She had no idea why it mattered what time accountants got to work. It wasn't like her work wasn't going to be waiting for her when she got there. But, her boss operated under the strict belief that it mattered...a lot. "You know I love ya girl, but I really can't be late again. I am already in hot water at work." Dropping a casual peck on Alex's cheek, she plunged ahead into the drone like masses shuffling them. Janine turned on a stiletto heel. The commuters flowed around her like a current around a rock. A very irritated current. Waving wildly to catch Alex's attention, she called out, "How 'bout dinner this week?" With a nod, Alex accepted the invitation and watched Janine's petite form disappear, swallowed up by the throng. Alex took a deep breath and watching it puff from in between her lips into the frosty air, slowed her steps. Relieved. The pain wasn't so bad if she took it easy. She looked up at the cold, bleak sky and the black clouds condensing over her head. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. The next train wouldn't be for another half-hour. The storm would be raining down on her head before then. Reluctantly, Alex fished out a couple of bucks from her handbag and waited in line at the newsstand to buy a morning paper. Reading would keep her mind occupied while she waited. Pretending to be transfixed in the daily news would also prevent the random, awkward conversations that, inevitably, some stranger waiting for the same train tried to start. She did not do idle talk. Shivering beneath her wool coat, she flipped open the paper and read about another unexplained disappearance. Police were baffled. Yeah, she thought. Tie a donut around the woman's neck and the cops would find her. "Finally," Alex muttered under her breath as the train pulled into the station some forty-five minutes, another latte, and a second go through the morning paper, later. She elbowed and shoved her way into the crowd, rushing through its doors, like cattle through a chute. Rolling her eyes, she joined the nameless, faceless herd. Scrambling for a seat instead of standing, she landed on the hard plastic bench and felt the train jolt beneath her as it took off. Her early morning wake up call was catching up with her. Bleary eyed, she rested her head back against the window and stifled a yawn. Wearily, her lids drifted shut. Before she knew it, she slipped off into slumber and back into the dream. The acrid stench of smoke surrounded her as she lifted her head up from the ground. Ignoring the smears of her blood and throbbing agony in her leg, she slid along the ground toward the car. Gravel and chunks of shattered glass bit into her palms. Weeds dried from the harsh winter past hissed against the satin of her dress. He called out her name over and over again, an agonized wail, "Alex, Alex." Moaning, she tried her best to pull battered body along the shoulder of the road. The boom and the intense heat and light of the explosion forced her to shield her head with her arms. Debris from the car showered down on her in a rain of twisted, smoldering metal and rubber. The stink of burning flesh filled her nostrils. With a jolt she awoke staring into the concerned face of a commuter. He gently shook her arm, "Hey, are you ok?" Embarrassed, she gingerly smiled, nodding. Her cheeks flooded with shame. Sleeping on a commuter train, no matter how jammed packed, wasn't safe. It was stupid. The man, just slightly into adulthood, ducked behind a thatch of thick, sleek, sandy-brown hair and ignored her reply in favor of a text message from the phone in his hand. Saved from further shame, the brakes of the train engaged, jerking the car to a stop and the doors whisked open with a soft hiss. "Thanks," she mumbled to the stranger, The Mad Texter, she decided to call him. He barely glanced up from his cell phone to acknowledge that she'd taken the time to thank him. Alex pushed to her feet. The leg was aching, worse for wear from the twenty-minute ride on the train. Swept into the current of commuters, she disembarked. She was at her stop. The two-block walk to the museum was a miserable one. Cold rain drizzled down from the gray skies above. She shivered, tugging her wool hat down tighter against her scalp. Grateful and relieved by the sight of the tinted glass doors of the tan, brick structure just ahead of her. Gathering her composure, pasting on her best, most professional, smile. The one she saved for her coworkers. She slid through the employee entrance at the far end of the building and dug in her purse for her badge. The contents of her purse were a collage of lipsticks, tampons, crumpled receipts, ink pens, loose change, and everything else, except for her employee ID. With a wide, apologetic, "hey I'm just a girl" smile, she gestured to the door. The guard, a real stickler for the rules, usually, decided to give her a break for once, and buzzed her in. Dawn Rising "Right here will be a likeness of him dressed in traditional Shawnee Warrior attire. We have been very fortunate to have the actual drafts of the land treaties on loan to us. They will be placed in controlled and secured display cases, here." She motioned to the open space along the walkway. Alex paused, waiting for the obligatory polite nods and murmurs. "The museum's and my ultimate goal is for authenticity and accurate accounts of Tecumseh's life and dedication to the Native American Peoples. We will take special focus on Tecumseh's attempts to unite the tribes, his life, his family, and the mystery surrounding his death. You do know it was rumored that his body was never found. Right?" The look he shot her froze her feet to the ground. This was so not going the way she planned. "This area over here is reserved for his brother Tenskwatawa and his contributions to the Shawnee people with a focus on the religious aspects of his teachings." The obligatory politeness of his nods and grunts was unnerving. Her palms sweated, slicking her hands. Half out of irritation, half out of nervousness, she bit her lip. Alex took a deep breath and trudged on. Had to get the donation. The man had removed the black sunglasses from his face, revealing stunning brown eyes, rich as chocolate and soulful in their expression, infused with just a glimmer of boyish mischief that she found vaguely familiar in some way. Who knew? The city was teeming with strangers, maybe they'd crossed paths on the street and in some subconscious part of her mind she remembered him. Finally, maybe, she had something to work with. She interpreted his removal of the sunglasses as a sign of interest. Sunglasses indoors? The museum's interior was dim and he certainly hadn't needed them. Smiling, she placed her hand on the gleaming oak and bronze double doors. "This is my favorite part. I didn't want to bring you here until this was completed. Please, follow me." The freshly hung doors creaked with a light groan as they opened. Inside the room was round with a high domed ceiling painted black. In the center of the room was a limestone pillar with a small glass encased gas flame. A rosewood plaque dedicating the room to Tecumseh was affixed to the pillar. Bench seating followed the curving line of the room. The walls were decorated with Native American artwork and symbols. This memorial room was Alex's brainchild and she had raised it from the inner workings of her mind, watching carefully as it developed and blossomed piece by piece. "Watch this," she whispered as she dimmed the lights. Above them the constellations glittered in the faux night sky as pale soft lighting filtered up from hidden fixtures in the floor. "I want this to be a place of quiet and reflection, dreams should be conceived here." Her voice trailed off in awe at the craftsmanship of the workers who had honed her baby into creation. "What do you think?" "I think it's perfect," Lucien replied with a smile on his broad lips. So far, he'd managed to keep his cool. Maybe, just a bit too well, a bit too contained. Alex was nervous. Her heart fluttered like hummingbird wings in her chest. Seeing Alex again had stirred up a thousand memories and feelings deep within him. And he'd been careful, so careful, not to tip his hand. Not to let his feelings show. Even stretching the truth about his name. He hadn't been this close to her in twelve years. That he couldn't tell her who he was. Finish what hung in suspended animation, unfinished, was torture. That night, twelve years ago, had ripped them apart in a blaze of fire and pain. Changed the paths of their lives forever. He'd kept tabs on her. Watching from a distance as Alex blossomed from a sixteen year-old girl into a woman. Secrets and promises, vows forged a wall between them. She didn't know. Or maybe, on some subconscious level, she did. That fact agonized him more than his fiery birth. She didn't realize who he was. And he could not tell her. He could smell the scent of her nervousness in the air, spicy like cloves. She fidgeted in her anxiety. Despite her best attempts to stay still and composed. The corners of her mouth, the parts of her lips that she didn't worry with her teeth, habitually biting them in agitation, curved down in a nervous frown. He'd give anything to see her smile at him, like she used to, once again. "Ah, well, I am so happy that you do." Alex replied, flabbergasted and speechless by his smile. The curve of his mouth, how she knew his lips would be soft was a mystery. Maybe it was just a guess. Or maybe, it had been too long...way, way, too long since she'd been kissed and his nearness was sending her neglected hormones into overdrive. There was an undeniable air of familiarity about him, the way he moved, the simplicity of his gestures, his smile, the expressions on his face, and in his eyes that was disturbing to her. He was a man that even if it had been a fleeting glimpse, as quick as a blink of an eye, she should have remembered him. If she had met him before, why didn't she? Why did she have the feeling that she had and just couldn't quite place him? Alex buried the feeling into an unused corner of her psyche. She could think about it later. Perhaps, when the wee hours of the morning found her awake and restless. Inside, she did a happy dance. That donation was as good as gotten. "Let's move into the conference room for some refreshments and review the rest of the plans for the exhibit." Her face was ablaze with a blush at his praise. Opting for the service elevator, which would allow for more space, she took Luke up to the fifth floor. The size of the elevator wasn't the problem. His closeness, the nearness to him, a perfect stranger, had her heart racing, and her head in places other than where it should be. He stood inches from her, despite the openness of the elevator. Invasion of her personal space should have made her anxious and uncomfortable. Instead, his nearness affected her in other ways. She ought to be polishing her strategy, eliminating any glitches in her plan, and not thinking about how soft his lips would be on hers. "Please help yourself," Alex said as she motioned to the refreshments. She should have taken the time to bake cookies and muffins. Fresh might have impressed him and sealed the deal. To her dismay, he took a seat, ignoring the store bought assortment her assistant had hastily thrown together. Ok...lesson learned in that one, she thought. Bake. The next time she had to beg for money. Take the time to bake. After waiting a polite amount of time, ignoring the tray herself, too nervous to eat despite the grumbling in her stomach, she plunged into reviewing the rest of the plans. Sometime in the early afternoon, her presentation was finally completed. Dry mouthed from all the talking, mostly one-sided conversation, she paused for breath. "Are there any questions," she focused on the neatly typed plans and awkward drawings she'd sketched, avoiding the intensity of the brown eyes that stared down at her. "Any concerns?" Eye contact with this man was dangerous. She was instantly entranced at the glimpse into his eyes, by the way they reflected the light and their depth. Enthralled by the flecks of gold and amber trapped within the ring of deep rich mahogany. Their expression seemed familiar to her. They seemed to speak to her...something she couldn't place or understand. She couldn't help but stare into them. And the feeling that she'd met him somewhere before grew undeniably stronger. "Alex?" Luke's soft gentle voice roused her, saving her from drowning in the depths of the eyes. From further humiliation of simply sitting there open mouthed staring into them. "Your exhibit is going to be outstanding. You have the full cooperation of the Sons at your disposal. If you need anything, please ask." He stood with an outstretched hand. Eager for just the merest brush of her fingers. "Oh thank you so much," Alex stammered. "Ah, actually there is one thing. Maybe two." She winced, waiting for a scowl of disapproval. She was encouraged when he met her with a warm smile that absolutely melted her heart. "I was wondering if someone wouldn't mind volunteering to record Tecumseh's teachings in Algonquin. I think it would make the memorial room complete if visitors could hear his teachings the way he would have delivered them, in his native tongue. And I could use some help picking out some traditional music tracks for the room as well." She trailed off waiting for a reply. Nervously, tugging on the hem of her jacket as she shifted her weight off her bad leg. After a considerable pause, Lucien answered, "I have just the person to help you. Me." He had the blank check folded in his back pocket. The money was earmarked for the museum's donation long before he heard her sales pitch. He had a two-fold reason for staying behind. Only one of his reasons had to do with his mission. The other had everything to do with her. Any one of The Sons was capable of completing the job. But, he had to see to it himself. Dawn Rising "Hang a right at the edge of the drive. I know a great little Chinese restaurant not far from here. Does that sound ok to you?" Alex asked. The Chinese place wasn't much to look at as far as appearances went, little more than a grungy dive in the seedier part of the city. Not too far from where she lived. But, a better shrimp mei-fun could not be found, anywhere. Her stomach grumbled in eager agreement. "I uh," Lucien hesitated as he eased on the breaks at the edge of the drive. Flipping on his turn signal he guided the SUV to the right. The tires slid on the ice then caught on the edge of the salted pavement. He paused and he thought of an explanation. He hadn't planned for an invitation to dinner. "Part of our creed prohibits the consuming of processed foods." Alex sighed in disappointment. Denied the hot, steaming bowl of mei-fun she had her heart set on. Her mind was churning as she ran down her mental list of restaurants and eateries. She couldn't think of anyplace that served organic, unprocessed foods. At least, not on her shoestring budget, and she had agreed to buy him dinner. She glanced at Luke from the corner of her eye, hopeful. There was a pub down the block from her house. If he couldn't eat, maybe she could buy him a drink. "Can I at least buy you a drink?" "Yeah, I think wine is acceptable in this instance. Feel free to grab something to eat if you want. I wont be upset if you do. It's been a long day for you too. You must be starving." "Turn left here. We're not too far from the pub now." Actually, she was starved. Skipping breakfast because she was late, and lunch, because she'd been too nervous and had simply forgotten about it. She tried to trace back to the last time she had eaten and drew a blank. The dreams always left her without an appetite. The ice glittered reflecting the lights of the city. Everything was quiet, almost magical. Clean looking beneath the blanket of white snow and hard crust of ice. "Start slowing down, it's the next block up on the left." Alex paused, "Do you see it?" Alex felt immediately at ease sitting face to face with Luke. Donation in hand, the stress of the day melted away. She avoided looking into his eyes unable to shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. She ordered a hot tea and a bowl of French onion soup while he ordered a red wine. They made small talk as they waited for their order to arrive. "So tell me more about The Sons." "Most of our meetings are in secret. Membership is by invitation only. There are h...," he stopped himself just in time before he gave away too much. Pausing, he grinned at her. "Membership is at different levels, only those who are direct blood descendants of a great warrior may hold upper offices and participate in certain ceremonies." Sitting with her like this in the familiar surroundings of a neighborhood pub sent a surge of longing through his heart. As a kid, he'd imagined what they'd be like when they grew up. Move away from home, go to college, get jobs, get married, have babies, grow old together, so many things and possible outcomes. He hadn't, couldn't have imagined what would actually happen to them in the future. He longed to caress her cheek, to be close to her. Confess his secrets. Surely there was something about him that she recognized. Something. Was he really so different? Over the years had she given up and fallen out of love? And could he blame her if she had? Alex visited his grave. Hidden in the thick copses of trees surrounding the tiny cemetery where he was supposedly buried, he'd watched her cry over him year after year. She came the same day, more often, but always on the same day every year. The day he died. Lucien clenched his hands into fists to keep his fingers from reaching across the table to caress her cheek. As long as she came to see his memorial, he knew a part of her still held on. The reality of it was that in fact, for all practical purposes, he was dead. He had to be. He wasn't the boy she loved anymore. Time and circumstance had changed that. He shouldn't hope she hadn't stopped loving him. He should hope, instead, that she had. That she had moved on and built a life for herself, a life without him in it. Wasn't that better for the both of them? Alex's stomach grumbled happily at the sight of the waitress bringing her food and Luke's glass of wine. She was too hungry to be embarrassed about eating in front of him. Their conversation was congenial enough. Small talk, nothing too personal or threatening, but she felt a wave of tension radiate off him. Maybe it was his body language, suddenly tense and on guard. Or the way he looked at her, so intense. She had no idea what she'd said or done to set his reaction off. The waitress and the food was a welcome diversion. Alex's eyes grew wide at the sudden flair of Luke's tension and the way as quickly as the mood came, it faded. Searching for something to say, she inquired, "Are you a direct descendant?" Too hungry to wait for him to take a sip of his red wine, she wound the bubbling stringy Parmesan cheese around her spoon. "Yes. By blood." He unrolled his napkin and gathered it between his fingers. Eager to change the subject, to let his hands have the luxury of one more touch, he scooted toward her gently holding his napkin in between his fingers, "Here let me help you. You've got a piece of cheese right there." He slid the napkin down along her jaw line and up to her lower lip. "Oh, thanks," Alex said, her face turning red as she took the paper napkin from his hand and dabbed at the glob of cheese stuck to her chin. Smooth as a porcupine's backside, she thought, wadding the napkin in her fingers. The soup was good, rich and beefy, chocked with sautéed onions and spiced bits of crouton. But, unwilling to make a bigger mess out of the stringy, melted cheese, no matter how delicious it was, she pushed the bowl away. At home, there was cereal in the cabinet. Alone, it wouldn't matter what she dribbled from her spoon. She opened her mouth to ask more questions when he silenced her with his finger. "Why study Native American cultures for a living? What got your interest?" Lucien asked, his eyes intent upon her. He was curious. Was her draw to his culture some innate desire to bridge the gap between them? He was certain, she didn't know. Her parents had never told her exactly how connected they were to the Sons. "My first boyfriend was Native American and his family were members of the Shawnee Nation. I guess that's what sparked my interest in Tecumseh and Native American culture." Her eyes misted over as her mind wandered in private thoughts. Spoon swirling absently in the neglected soup. "My parents thought I was nuts, wasting their hard earned money on a degree that would never land a solid prospect for my future." Lucien studied her, the sadness that radiated off of her tore at his heart. "What happened?" he asked his voice gravely with pain at the mention of their past. The past she didn't know she had with him. "To your boyfriend, I mean." Alex grimaced taking a deep breath, "He was killed in an accident. It was long ago and a story for another time." She sighed and dropped her spoon in the cooling soup. The congealing mix of onion and chesses in an ocean of brown broth didn't look so appealing anymore. "I guess I wasn't that hungry after all." She forced a smile. Talking with Luke, divulging just that little bit of her past with an almost stranger, somehow made her feel better and worse. "I'm sorry for prying." Lucien replied. He took her hand in his, wrapping it tightly in his fingers. "No more unhappy thoughts. What's on the agenda for tomorrow?" Alex blinked in surprise as he lifted her hand to his lips brushing it gently across their velvety softness. "Ah, we will do the recording and that should wrap it up." She blushed at the contact, as innocent as it was, sliding her hand out of his. "I really should let you get back to your hotel and get some rest. We need that voice in its best form tomorrow." She rose from her chair. Before she realized it, he was standing next to her holding out her coat. Shyly, she slid her arms in and pulled the wool over her shoulders. "Ah, I can walk the rest of the way, it's only a block max." Alex reached inside her purse and felt around. "Look," she said as she pulled out the tiny can of mace. The mace was a token purchase to appease her father. Mace wouldn't stop a bullet. Mace wouldn't do much of anything except piss an attacker off and get her killed quicker. But, if it made dad breathe easier, she'd carry it. "I'll be perfectly fine. It's too much of a hassle to drive just up the block. Really, you've done too much as it is." Alex swatted at Lucian's hand as he reached for the tab. "This is my treat." She smiled up at him with determination. She wasn't rich, but she could afford the tab. The meager salary of a museum curator allowed her a luxury here and there. "As the lady wishes," he replied, bowing low. "But I think I really should accompany you the rest of the way home. There are some things out there that use mace as breath freshener." "Oh all right," Alex grinned, flattered by his display of chivalry. He was right. The morning paper she'd spent forty-five minutes reading this morning while she waited for the train was full of murders, missing people, and violence. The crime rate in the city was skyrocketing at an alarming rate. The night air was damp and cold against her cheeks, cooling her skin as they walked. Stray bits of snow drifted down from the buildings and swirled in the air. A couple of times she slipped, almost loosing her footing and landing on her ass. Luke's grip was tight on her arm, supporting her. "Well, here we are, home sweet home. See, no major problems, no boogey men lying in wait for me." Alex teased. The dimness of night in the city softened the garish concrete and steel structure looming over her. Lucien stepped closer to Alex, resisting the urge to bend down and claim her lips. She was oblivious to his eyes on her, preoccupied by pawing through her purse for her keys. Snow moistened the crimson tendrils that escaped from under her hat. The cold reddened the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheek. Her scent was so appealing to him, like a meadow on a warm summer's day, so at odds with the stench of exhaust, rotting garbage, and the general aroma of too many people crammed into such a small space. "Good night," he whispered hoarsely. Lucien knew he'd curse his impulsiveness later. He was about to break his vow. Stupid, he shouldn't have made the promise to begin with. He hadn't understood at the time, how hard, how impossible it would be to stay away from her. He slid an arm around Alex, relishing her warmth, drawing her close. She looked up at him, half in shock and half in desire. Her eyes mirrored the longing he felt. She didn't realize the truth. But, somehow her body had fit together the pieces her mind refused to sort. On an elemental level, she knew him. He felt her heart pounding and her skin warm as blood rushed to her cheeks. Lucien's head descended slowly, giving Alex time to turn away, to reject his lips. His mouth brushed against hers in a soft, sweet, tender kiss. Encouraged by her lack of protest and the snaking of her arms around his neck, he slicked his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss to match his burning need to taste her, to consume her, to claim what laid dormant and unrecognized so deep within her. Alex's heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. All her senses were on overload. Her body responded to the feel of his mouth on hers. With a fire whose flame she'd only felt the faintest burn of, years ago. What was she doing? She had just met this man today and here she was wrapped in his arms sharing a kiss. Timidly, she slid her hand from around Luke's neck and pressed her fingers against his chest, stroking the soft, buttery feel of good leather against their pads. If he didn't stop, if she didn't stop now, she wouldn't be able to and she had never asked any man up to her apartment, let alone a stranger. Janine was the big believer in love at first sight. Not her. This, making out with a man on her porch stoop, was crazy. Lucien gently released his hold on Alex and backed up a step, giving her space to sort out her feelings. Stroking her cheek, he softly whispered, "Ulethi equi'wa." My beautiful lady, the thought circled in his mind, drifting on currents of longing. He wanted more. More heat. More touch. More of Alex. After twelve years though, he had become somewhat accustomed to the virtues of patience. "Not beautiful," Alex whispered, withdrawing her fingers from his chest. The words, not their content, but how he said them, the sound of them, sent shivers up her spine and made things below her beltline quiver. Soft as velvet, sweet and smooth as cream, the words rolled off his tongue. Spiced with a hint of sinful, indulgent delights that made her sigh in longing. He smiled down at her. His eyes tinted gold with desire, "Very beautiful." He could smell her awakened desire, like dew on petals opened to the dawn light. Even if she hadn't understood his native tongue, which, she had, she would have understood the deeper, hidden message behind them. He wanted her. " I need to go." Alex replied. Her voice trembled like a schoolgirl's. What she wouldn't give to be more like her best friend. Janine was so confident. So secure in who she was and what she wanted. And if she'd wanted Luke as badly as Alex wanted him, she would have invited him upstairs. In that, Alex had always envied her best friend. Janine was so free. And she, bound by an old heartbreak that served no purpose in her life. "Curfew?" he teased. A part of him wanted her to break out of an adulthood of staunch rules and rigid custom. Ask him upstairs. Invite him into her bed. His own life was governed by a strict regimen of rules. For just once, he wondered what it would feel like, be like, to let them go. Be who he was, with her. Who they might have been...together...if fate hadn't interceded and torn them apart. "Common sense." She fumbled for her pocketed keys and stepped back. Out of his shadow cast across the icy steps from the garish illumination of the lighted overhang. Idiocy seemed to be the theme of her life. Not only was she passing up the opportunity to invite this gorgeous stranger up to her apartment for a night of sex. She'd done something worse. Settled for practicality. In the morning, she might be proud of her determination and self-restraint. But, for the time being, the idea of spending another long, dark, night alone left her cursing her morality. A little heat, no matter how brief the flame, had to be better than shivering in the cold. "Sorry." Lucien took the keys out of her hand and tried one key after the other until the right one slid into the lock. He held the door wide for Alex, blocking it open with his foot as he dropped them into her palm. He latched on to her wrist, pulling her to him, as she moved to wrap her fingers around the keys in a fist. Hurriedly, he stole another kiss, wanting just one more taste of paradise before he let her go. Alex's response was automatic, as urgent and desperate as his need. He wasn't the only one destined for a cold, lonely, bed tonight. His mind was heady, his ego bouncing along the roof of his brain like a balloon filled with helium along a ceiling, at the breathy gasp that escaped her lips. She wanted him. Abruptly, Alex backed away. "I'll see you tomorrow." Her voice was low and deep, barely able to contain the emotions she was feeling. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night in his arms. To know the love she had never felt before. Her mind argued with her heart, winning out. It always did. Her parents hadn't raised her to be especially religious. But, somehow asking this stranger, no matter how tempting and soft his lips, was wrong. Alex forced her body away from Luke's and entered the foyer. Jokingly, trying to break the awkwardness crackling like static in the air between them, she asked, "Do you need to borrow my mace?" Lucien threw back his head in a roaring laugh. Mace. Wasn't that cute? No he didn't want her mace. He wanted her. Maybe he could kiss her senseless, or perhaps, kiss some sense into her. Make her mind acknowledge what her body already did. But, it was just impulse talking. Spending the night with her. One night. Would not be enough. Better to ache than to take a small taste of what he couldn't have. "I think I'll be alright without it." He smiled broadly. "Good night, sleep well." Lucien turned and buried his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, facing an icy gust of wind that cut him to the bone as he walked away. Behind him, he heard the rattle of plate glass in the door's wooden frame and the soft snick of a lock. The sound made by Alex as she shut out the night. There was something warm and familiar about his kiss, something familiar about the way he smelled: masculine, a musky mixture of pine, the woods, and earth. And the way his eyes held her captive. There was no doubt about it. Luke reminded her of someone. Someone she once loved and still did. Lucien. She held a trembling hand to her lips, remembering the feel and taste of the boy. The thought was ridiculous and absurd. There was no room for the thought in her exhausted, addled brain. Quickly, she pushed it out of her mind. The stairs to her third story apartment were a work out on good days. Tonight, they'd be too exhausting, too painful for her battered leg to endure. Opting for the death trap her apartment manager loosely called an elevator, she punched the button for her floor. Dawn Rising Alex felt his arms wrap around her squeezing her tightly like steel bands. "I've missed you so much," he whispered. His breath hot against her sun-warmed skin. His voice was not that of the boy she remembered, but of that of a man. Closing her eyes tightly, she ran her lips along his jaw, searching out his mouth and claiming it as her own. His kiss was not the sweet kiss of adolescence, innocent and hopeful, but that of urgency and need. Alex stiffened in his arms, becoming afraid. This wasn't Lucien. Her eyes opened, and once again, she had to remind herself that she was dreaming. This wasn't real. Lucien wasn't real, only a collaboration of faded memories growing weaker everyday. She saw him, Luke, his lids drawn tight savoring the kiss, ignoring her protests. She pushed Luke away, stumbling back, snapped into her adult body. Her leg shot jolts of pain up its length as she was brought back to the present. She lost her balance, falling only to be caught up in his encircling arms. "You're not Lucien," she stammered on fleeting breaths. "Search your heart, know that I am," Luke replied. Gently, he slid a hand down along her neck. Deftly, his fingers slid along the chain grasping the locket in his hand. "I gave you this for your sixteenth birthday. Forever and ever Lucien and Alex. Forever Alex. Alex, do you know how long forever is?" he asked, bending to kiss her again. Alex yielded to his onslaught, granting him entry she opened up moaning softly as his tongue massaged along hers. As a boy, Lucien's kisses had been filled with innocence and inexperience. The man kissed her like a man ought to kiss a woman. The kiss invasive, filled with longing and fierce want. Tears rolled down her cheeks and into her mouth, combining with his taste. The bitter saltiness roused her to her senses. With a show of force she pushed against his chest. Realizing the truth only made matters worse. Shaking her head she said, "No, Lucien is gone. You're not him. This is just some insane dream." Alex felt his hand as it rested on her arm and slid up along her shoulder, resting softly against her bare skin. "I know you recognized me today. Saw the truth hidden in my eyes." Tenderly, he spun her, stepping into the space between them. "I never stopped loving you. You've been with me every day. Everyday." Alex's body trembled, "No!" she shouted, her voice failing. Her body twitched as she fought to awaken from the nightmare. "No! You're dead!" Luke enveloped her in the warmth of his strong arms. She longed to give herself over. Belong to the dream, turn the nightmare into a dream of sweetness and love, but she couldn't. Not as long as she still loved Lucien and somewhere in her heart lived the hopes of a sixteen year-old girl. She felt his body shrink, arms weaken and diminish in size. His height was merely a head above hers now. His chest narrowed. The masculine scent he emulated was replaced by youth. Alex sagged into him. This was how she remembered Lucien. This was her Lucien, her love. "Do you know how long forever is, Alex?" he asked. The summery meadow was replaced with hard, wet, cold ground. Small pebbles of gravel bit into her skin. The warmth and familiarity of his touch was replaced by searing pain, shooting up her leg, tearing at her flesh. Fresh, clean summer breezes were tainted, fading to the harsh, acrid stench of burning debris and flesh. Cold hands grabbed at her dragging her away from the crash, away from him as he burned. Died with her name on his lips. She would have joined him, willingly dying at his side, take his place even. But the cold hands held her back, restraining her, saving her, and not him. Her body rocked between hiccups and spasms, and the heat of tears on her cheeks. "No, I cant. No, No, No!" She awoke, screaming in terror, clutching the blankets and trembling alone in the pitch-blackness of her room. Allowing herself a good cry, she buried her face deep in the pillows. "Oh, Alex," she said into the dark between sobs. "It was just a dream, just a dream." She hugged herself, arms tight around her chest, holding her together. Lucian stood, merely a shadow in the dark corner of her room. He watched Alex cry tears fat with despair. How desperately he wanted to reach out and comfort her. He wasn't sure why he came here. He saw the recognition in her eyes. She knew who he truly was. Her mind wasn't ready to accept it yet. She was suffering because of him. He couldn't allow that. Lucien whispered a suggestion into the depths of her mind, "Sleep." He exhaled as her sobs dried up and her body stilled. Slipping closer, he kissed the tips of his fingers and rested them on her forehead. "Dream of happier days, Alex."