2 comments/ 8439 views/ 10 favorites Dawn's Path: Completed Work By: msnomer68 The Native Dawn Series Book 11 Rogue Dawn book 7 Dawn's Path Prologue Angel pounded her fist against the table with such force that the cherry wood veneer splintered into toothpick sized shards. Angry didn't begin to define her reaction to Kayla's news. "I can't believe you're considering this!" she shouted. Rage tinted her normally brown eyes, infusing them with flares of gold and amber. Unblinking, Kayla stood across the table from her completely unaffected by the outburst. And her reaction or rather non-reaction made Angel seethe with fury. "How stupid are you?" Kayla huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, casually regarding her friend. Ok, so she knew Angel wouldn't be giving her hugs and congratulations. But, she hadn't exactly expected her sort of best friend to resort to furniture abuse either. Kayla held her ground as Angel scrubbed her hand through her spiked hair and paced in agitation. "I guess I'm pretty damn stupid," she coolly replied. Unfettered by Angel's outburst and grateful for the table separating them, she jutted her chin out in defiance. "I don't care if you like it or not. It's my life and I'm doing this. I just thought you might like to know." "Or your death," Angel rasped. Tugging on the ends of her hair in frustration she wished Kayla had picked someone else to confide in. The woman operated under the misconception that they were BFFs or something. They were friends...but not friends...and certainly not best friends. Know? Of course she didn't want to know. And this...Kayla stood there so calm and casual about the whole thing. As if it were no big deal. It was a big fucking deal. Angel noted the hard glint of determination in Kayla's aquamarine eyes and the steely set of her jaw. There were literally dozens of arguments she could use against what Kayla planned to do. But, not one of them was going to get through to her. What Kayla had just announced was the equivalent of suicide. And to think, she wanted her support. "I've considered that possibility," Kayla said. What she was planning to do was risky. But, for a virtually eternal love, she considered it a chance she was willing to take. She thought if anyone might understand and just maybe support her decision. Angel would. Kayla was wrong about that one. Telling Angel had been a huge mistake. "It just makes sense. If I'm going to marry Bryce, I should be like he is." Angel huffed at Kayla's logic. Kayla's reasoning was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Give up her life for love? Love? She stopped pacing long enough to pin Kayla with a hard glare, that and to show her a healthy flash of fang. The woman had no idea what she as asking or what she was giving up. "I suppose he's going to do the honors personally?" she asked. Her voice riddled with sarcasm. Kayla visibly bristled from the acidic tone in her voice. Angel knew if she pushed it much farther, Kayla would just shut her down completely. She tried a different tactic to combat Kayla's line of thought. There had to be some way to get through to her before it was too late. Angel mentally scrabbled for the right words to say to make Kayla question her decision. It wasn't too late for her to change her mind. Kayla still had a choice and she could choose differently. "If Bryce is so in love with you, shouldn't he be happy with you just the way you are? Why do you have to change for him?" Kayla should have expected this from Angel. She'd asked it herself that same question at least a hundred times. And each time her answer was exactly the same. Giving up her life wasn't something she planned to do on a whim. Her decision was permanent and once she carried it through, there was no going back. Ever. "This is what I want, Angel." "Why," Angel asked. There was a sincerity and urgency to her question she didn't try to hide. Kayla had everything. She held the brass ring in her hand and she was willing to give it up. If Angel could trade her places, she'd grab onto that ring and run like hell. Find some normal place to live. Work a normal job. And surround herself with normal people. And just be ...normal. Kayla could do that. She didn't have to be this... thing that she was considering turning into. Love wasn't worth it. Kayla didn't expect Angel to understand the reasons behind her decision. Respect her decision, yes. But, understand it, never. Angel was so closed off and terrified of real emotions, real contact beyond the superficial, that she would never comprehend something deeper, like love. Not because she wasn't capable of it. She just would never let her guard down enough to let anybody in. Angel only got so close to people before she shut them out. Too much had happened in her past. And rather than face it, she preferred to hide behind it and use it as an excuse to push everybody away. Angel had never been in love. Never felt the urgency of knowing one lifetime with the man you love would never be enough. Death was the ultimate cheat. And for Kayla, it didn't have to be. Steeling her resolve, she braced herself for the repercussions of her answer. "Because, I love him. Bryce isn't asking me to change for him. But, I can give him more than just a few decades together. And this is my wedding gift to him...to us. We can have forever." Angel opened her mouth to unleash a tirade of snarky rebuttals and then quickly snapped it shut. There was no way she was going to win this debate and convince Kayla to change her mind. Unleashing a barrage of verbal assaults wasn't going to accomplish anything except destroying the fragile friendship they struggled to maintain. She had no options left. Either she was going to get on board with Kayla's plan or she was going to lose one of the few people on earth she actually trusted. "When?" "Tonight." Kayla winced at the pain in Angel's expression. She'd made the decision the minute Bryce slid the engagement ring on her finger. They'd talked about it long and hard. Considered every angle and possible outcome. Bryce sugarcoated nothing. He also didn't try to persuade or dissuade her. He'd left the final decision up to her. Bryce and Angel were as different as night and day in their view of the world. And it was because of choice. He'd had one. Angel hadn't. Bryce saw his condition as a gift. That wasn't the case with her. To her, it was a curse. A reminder of a past she could not escape. Sure, Bryce was scared. She was scared. And she understood that Angel was scared for her too. There was always a chance things wouldn't work out the way she hoped. She could die for nothing more than a glimmering promise of a forever that might not happen. "Fuck, Kayla, tonight?" Angel exhaled and dragged her hands through her hair. She glared at the clock mounted on the dining room wall. The clock ticked softly, counting down the hours, minutes, and the seconds left. Kayla's life was measured in the inexorable swing of the brass pendulum. Back and forth it swung without pause. Kayla had less than twelve hours. Angel wanted to rip the clock from the wall and smash it to bits. Stop the brass pendulum from swinging. Stop time from racing forward in the blink of an eye. She shook her head in denial. Eleven hours and fifty-three minutes and ten seconds. And the damn pendulum kept right on swinging, mocking her with the rightness of its every pass back and forth. "Angel," Kayla said softly. "You'll be there wont you? Tonight?" Somehow, not telling Angel didn't seem right. They'd been through so many things together. More than any two women should. And not any of it had been good. If things went to shit, she just wanted Angel to have at least an explanation as to why she'd chosen what she had. And she'd want the chance...this chance... to tell her goodbye. Angel could not take the deafening tick of the clock another second. A walk. She needed to get out of this place and the walls that were closing in around her. Distance was good. The only defense she had against time and Kayla. She could not tolerate the hopefulness in Kayla's expression. Dying for love. Love? What was that? And why die for something so fleeting as love? Love was temporary. But, death...death was forever. Turning on her heel to leave the dining room and her friend, taking in air past the thick lump in her throat, she nodded and said, "Sure, I'll be there." Kayla watched Angel go without trying to stop her. Kayla was asking her to relive a nightmare. She would have understood if Angel had said no. Angel cared deeply. She hid behind a wall of scowls and cold standoffishness. In ways, Kayla doubted if anyone had ever gotten more than just a glimpse of who Angel truly was beneath the surface. Angel excluded herself from too much. She stood in the background and never let herself get close to anybody. Kayla knew the reasons why Angel hid from her past and her pain. That she'd agreed to be there tonight was enough. Contemplating what to do with the rest of her day, Kayla glanced at the clock. Time seemed to pass so much quicker when it was running out. Angel had stared at the clock hanging on the dining room wall as if it were a bitter enemy she could not defeat. Kayla didn't see it that way. Time was a simply a formality and nothing more. Soon, it wouldn't matter to her at all. Hours, days, weeks, months, years didn't matter when you had a limitless supply of them. Angel ran. She always ran. Away. From people, from her pain, and from her past, but, she never fast enough, never far enough. And it always caught up with her. She stood at the highest point of the bluffs on a narrow cleft of bleak gray shale, overlooking a pale, icy, winter-white landscape and barren skies. An eerie wind howled winter's lonely cry. Tossed about by the force of the gale. Powder sugar snow swirled in vortexes across the rock. The cold was relentless. Numbing. Freezing her to her very soul until it was as cold, gray, and barren as the scenery around her. Closing her eyes against all the lifelessness of winter, Angel wished for spring. A time when things were fresh and new, bursting with life. A time when the lush green of growing things, lemon yellow sunlight, and soft, warm breezes whispered promises of tomorrow. A time when even the very air seemed to shimmer with hope and anything seemed possible, even outrunning her past. Chapter 1 Angel balanced on the rocky precipice, looking down at the bonfire. The flames danced merrily in the darkness. Their orange tongues lapped at the spring sky, wiggling wildly, as if they could taste the stars twinkling just out of their reach. She was hiding. These days she was always hiding. Dodging the terror better known as Bridezilla. Tonight was the night. THE NIGHT. And she had been dreading it for weeks. Kayla and Bryce were finally tying the knot. Angel had been flattered, hell flabbergasted, when Kayla had asked her to be a bridesmaid. And even though she'd had a vague idea of what the job description entailed when she'd agreed. She'd failed miserably. When she refused to meet Kayla's unreasonable demands and trade in her black leathers for a ridiculous lavender, taffeta dress and shiny white stiletto heels. Argued that there was no reason to order a champagne fountain and a four-tier wedding cake with peach frosting since nobody would eat it anyway. And grouched about how silly it was to make all those damn bags filled with birdseed. She'd found herself promptly relieved of her official duties and demoted to guest status. Angel remembered the look of sheer terror that filled Kayla's eyes before she lost consciousness as the last of her blood was drained away and her heart beat one final time. In those seconds terror unlike anything Angel had ever known held her immobile. As Kayla lie cold and dead in Bryce's arms, as Bryce tried to coax the blood that would give her life down her throat, Angel's heart had stopped too. Bryce's blood, his very life, rolled down Kayla's chin to gather into a clotted thick puddle on the snowy ground. Kayla was gone. Stolen away by love. Kayla had to live. Kayla was the only friend she'd ever had. And if she died, Angel didn't have any reason to believe in anything. And she so desperately needed to believe in something good instead of everything bad. In her urgency to pull Kayla back from the brink, she'd dropped to her knees, squeezed Kayla's cold, mottled fingers in her hand, and made a promise. The words she'd whispered so urgently in Kayla's ear had worked. Kayla latched onto Bryce's wrist and drank down every drop of the life he bled back into her. Oh, the company was congenial enough, the accommodations fitting, and at first, Angel had relished the idea of finally belonging somewhere and fitting in. The closeness of it all and the togetherness everyone seemed to share. It was the knowledge that in an instant it could be gone that terrified her. Loss couldn't hurt her, if she had nothing of value to lose. Duty bound her to Kayla. Duty kept her stationary. Only duty and that was it. She was rooted in the spot, here, because of that damn promise. At least, that was the lie she told herself. Angel felt the ache of longing deep in the very core of her being. The thought of friendships and home brought a flash of pain to her chest and stirred feelings that she'd hidden away long ago. Caring about other people meant opening yourself up to bitter hurt when they turned on you. And in her life, she'd had more than her share of pain. There were no exceptions to the rule. Not even Kayla was completely exempt. Angel was an equal opportunity skeptic when it came to people and their true motives. Everybody wanted something. It was only a question of what. Angel's solution was one of practicality. Case in point. Kayla was one of the few, still exempt, of course. But, nonetheless, she was as close as Angel allowed anyone to get. And Kayla hadn't hesitated to hand her a pink slip the first time Angel had refused to bend to her will. Lavender was a stupid color anyway. And so, here she sat, as usual, on the outside looking in. Observing everything, but never really belonging anywhere. Every night, Angel pulled her shifts. Made her route through the now familiar woods, patrolling them for any sign of danger. And everyday she returned to her quarters to sleep in her bed, alone. Just the way she wanted it. Exactly the way it had to be. Maybe, she was a coward in keeping everyone out. But, she liked to consider herself as just being cautious. "I thought I'd find you here," Lance said. He leapt across a wide gulf between the sheer cliffs and landed on the narrow ledge Angel usually used as a perch from which she viewed the world. He could tell from the furrowing of her brows and the scowl on her expression that he'd interrupted one of her intensely dark brooding moments. And damn, did his dark angel love to brood. Angel had no idea how much prettier she'd be if she'd smile once in a while. But, if she did, she wouldn't be her. Or at least the version of her persona she showed the world. He'd guessed a long time ago that there was more to her and more behind the scowl she wore firmly in place. He'd gotten a smile out of her, once or twice. And, because they were so rare, they were all the more beautiful when they happened. Compact, standing no taller than five foot-two and clad totally in black from head to toe. Angel was a pint-sized ball of pure fury that only someone with a death wish would provoke. If not for her perpetual scowl, her almond shaped brown eyes, pert nose, and delicate bone structure might have made her features appear ultra feminine instead of terrifying. Her lips were full and soft. Perfect for kissing. And he could attest to that. He'd conned her into kissing him, just once, and had ended up with a broken nose for the trouble. But, damn had that kiss been worth it. Angel had the whole 'don't fuck with me' vibe down to an art form. He didn't buy it though. Deep down she wanted someone to notice her. Someone brave enough to work past her defenses and find the real woman hidden beyond the spiked hair and ever present scowl that marred her expression. She tried so hard to keep everyone at a distance. Too bad he didn't have the common sense most people did to leave her alone. On the night they met, he'd been chasing her. And he'd chased after her every day since. "What do you want?" Hoping he'd just leave, Angel glared at Lance with every bit of disdain she could muster. Lance was one of those devastatingly handsome guys that drew females to them like bees to honey. And he knew it. He was straight-teeth and rugged, intimate, rakish grins. A strong jaw line and cleft chin lent to his appeal. His white-blond hair swooped carelessly out of his eyes, to dip beneath the collar of his black jacket, gave him a sort of bad boy aura. Dark expressive brows and long lashes framed his brown, almost black, eyes. And they were focused on her. They were always focused on her. Lance was tall. Towering over her with a body built for speed and the endurance of a long distance runner with long muscular legs, narrow hips, and a lean waist. Cockily, as if he were daring her to contradict him or worse challenge him. He made no secret of his attraction to her. Not that it mattered. The attraction no matter how mutual it was. Would not be reciprocated. Angel wanted no complications in her life as dangerously handsome as Lance. Despite his reputation as a player amongst the brotherhood, Lance was one of the good guys. He had proven his friendship to her time and time again. He'd been there for her through some of the darkest hours of her life. When she fell, he was the one who picked her up, dusted her off, and set her on her feet again. He'd never asked her for anything in return. And that was what made him so dangerous to her. She didn't want to depend on anybody. She couldn't afford the luxury of letting her guard down for a single minute. Angel couldn't hurt him though. Instead of encouraging him and letting him know how much she appreciated he was who he was. She did the most sensible thing any girl could do in the situation. She hid. "The mistress beckons." He grinned almost snickering as Angel rolled her brown eyes at him. Singeing him with nothing more than a single glare where he stood. "Hey." He held up his hands in surrender and stepped a few inches away from her. "Don't shoot the messenger." He knew Angel's moods well and the eye roll was like the peel of thunder before a storm. They were partners in the field. Lance had made the arrangement by calling in a hefty favor from Patrick. It seemed that not everybody was as squeamish or hell bent on following the rules as Dane. And Patrick, in a show of solidarity, had been more than willing to assign Angel as his partner. The assumption was a gamble. Lance was willing to bet that the more time he spent with Angel. The more likely he was to figure out a way around or through that tough armor of hers. If nothing else, he'd pick at it bit by bit until he wore her down. Eventually, she'd stop shutting him out and let him in. "She can forget it," Angel huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She packed the mandatory, regulation brotherhood version of the 'bat phone' with her everywhere she went. Kayla could have called instead of sending Lance to fetch her. Well, Kayla might have been able to call if Angel hadn't turned the ringer off. "Besides, I'm busy. If her bridesmaid ditched her, she can find somebody else to do it." "I don't think that's what she wants." Lance took a daring step closer, backing Angel to the steep edge of the narrow outcropping. She had every intention of shutting Kayla out. Much as she'd tried to shut him out more times than he could count. Usually, he'd let it slide. Not today though. Bryce was his best friend. And he deserved a happy bride on his wedding day. And damn it. He was going to get it. Even if Lance had to throw Angel over his shoulder and cart her to Kayla's room kicking and screaming to make it happen. Dawn's Path: Completed Work He had Angel cornered. She teetered on the balls of her booted feet, her heels hanging off the edge. On such a narrow outcropping, there was no place for her to hide, and nowhere for her to run. Lance leaned in closer, towering over her as he dipped his head lower. His mouth hovered inches from hers. Angel would never allow it. She'd jump before she let him steal so much as a brush of his lips to hers. "Kayla needs you to be there for her." Angel would fight him if he crowded her. And he was Bryce's best man. He really didn't want kicked in the balls or his nose broken today just because he was doing a friend a favor. He snickered and backed off as she gauged the distance between the ground and the edge of the cliff. Angel was a wickedly spiteful little thing. She could make the jump without a problem. Or risk brushing against him to climb down. Or, his personal favorite, just give in and kiss him. Like he knew she wanted to. But, his dark angel was always so predictable. And so easy to goad into doing exactly what he wanted her to do. Eager to avoid any physical contact, especially with him, she jumped, landing with cat like agility on her balls of her feet. Glaring up at him with a scowl that could have turned a lesser man into a pillar of salt. Angel turned and ran into the woods. He tried not to take it too hard. After all, she had chosen to jump off the edge of a cliff instead of kissing him. Instead he took it as a personal triumph that she hadn't tried to rip his face off before she jumped. Angel looked up to see Lance grinning down at her with that smug grin he wore far too casually. He leaned with one foot resting against the rock wall behind him. Watching her squirm in discomfort. He knew she would jump rather than give in and acknowledge the attraction sizzling between them. And in doing so he'd gotten her to do exactly what he wanted her to do. One of these days, she was going to fool him, and probably herself, and call his bluff. And she was going to kiss the shit out of him. Teeth, tongue, lips, heavy breathing, she would give him a kiss he'd never forget. With a huff, she stomped over the spindly, fragile, blades of dried winter grass and into the woods. Chapter 2 Kayla looked wistfully at the door as a flutter of anxiety ran through her already frayed nerves. Angel wasn't coming. In an act of desperation, she'd sent Lance to find her and to beg, if he had to, for her to come. Kayla had been wrong to throw Angel out of the wedding party. She'd just been so focused on making everything perfect that she forgot how hard Angel struggled with friendships and closeness. Angel's arguments against this and that had finally worn her out. It was her wedding and, at the time, she had wanted the kind of grand events she saw in the bridal magazines Janine was constantly shoving under her nose. With less than an hour till she would tie her life to Bryce's forever, the picture perfect weddings in the magazines didn't seem to matter so much. Kayla sure as hell hadn't been Angel's friend when she'd excused her from her duties as a bridesmaid. At least, for all her grouching, Angel had tried to be a friend. It wasn't last minute jitters or cold feet that had Kayla a bundle of nerves. It was more to the point that she couldn't go out there and start a new life with Bryce until she resolved this final issue in her old one. She wasn't going to ask Angel to be a bridesmaid. That would only add insult to injury. And it would be hard enough to earn back Angel's trust without rubbing her nose in it. She just wanted to apologize for being so selfish, that and to confess that Angel had been right about everything. Lavender was not a good color for a night wedding. Stiletto heels would get stuck in the soft, muddy, ground. A four-tiered peach flavored cake with pink icing was over the top. And when it had been time to make all those little bags filled with birdseed, nobody had shown up to help out. Kayla was getting her picture perfect wedding. But, it had nothing to do with the pictures in the magazine and everything to do with her groom and the people there to share her happiness with her. Kayla was going much smaller and simpler on the grandness scale. Having a traditional brotherhood ceremony. No pictures, for obvious reasons. A hundred years from now if a picture showed up somewhere of her looking the same as she did now, it might be a little tricky to explain. No lavender taffeta dresses or stiletto heels. No huge wedding cake, birdseed bags, or campaign fountains. Her wedding was a celebration of life and love. But, she wasn't certain she could go through with it without Angel. Angel was haunted by her past. Struggling to make it through each and every day. Still trying to figure out where she belonged and what her life was about. Angel needed this just as badly as she did. A happy day filled with happy memories. Something to drown out all the bad. And Kayla had taken it from her. But, she could give it back. Make Angel feel as if she were the best friend Kayla saw her as. Kayla glanced up from the engagement ring glittering on her finger and met Lori's sympathetic glance. Lori and Janine had done their best to fill in the void. Hovering around her like bees buzzing around a flower. Helping to make things perfect by gently nudging her to swallow her pride and apologize to Angel. Kayla appreciated the both of them and all the hard work they'd done to help her with the wedding. She was thankful for their friendship. But, it wasn't the same as having her best friend at her side. When the door burst open Kayla breathed a hefty sigh of relief. She didn't care if Angel gave her hell for sending Lance after her. All that mattered was that she was here. Closing her eyes to draw from her inner strength. She shooed Janine and Lori away. She needed one last private moment with her best friend before she committed her life to Bryce. "You made it." Angel kicked the door closed behind Janine and Lori as they exited. "Look if this is about the dress." She clamped her mouth shut before she said something completely out of character and apologized. Kayla looked positively radiant and absolutely in love, glowing from head to toe. For a second, Angel thought she was going to go off on a girlie crying jag and start babbling utterly female nonsense. But, she held it together and kept it in. Kayla cut Angel off. "It's not about any damned dress. I could care less if you show up butt naked, as long as you're there." The rare smile on Angel's lips let her know that things between them hadn't changed. Angel could pretend. She could grump and scowl. Spew scalding sarcastic comments. But, they were still friends. Angel was hurt. And she'd never let her live it down. Kayla could accept that. It was just Angel's way. But, the damage she had done, while not forgotten, was forgiven. "I wasn't planning to go that far," Angel groused. Crossing the room, she plopped down on the velvet-upholstered bench to sit beside Kayla. Careful not to disturb the intricate shell and beadwork dangling off the dress's white leather fringe she draped an arm around Kayla's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. She rarely touched anybody, especially not voluntarily. And maybe it was that Kayla had asked her to come, for no other reason than she wanted her here, that was behind the sudden moment of weakness and gushy, feminine emotions. "Don't be nervous." "I'm not," Kayla lied. Inside she was quaking like the San Andreas Fault Line. But, she felt better now that Angel was here. That Angel had crossed the room and sat beside her and actually hugged her; willingly made physical contact; was a shocker. And it told her under no uncertain terms how special their friendship was. Angel never, ever willingly touched anybody. Usually, she'd rather gauge your eyes out than allow you to touch her. Today really was a magical day. Kayla knew the reasons why Angel shied away from any form of physical affection. At one time, she'd shared Angel's fear of allowing anyone to put a hand on her. Touch was pain. A caress could become a harsh slap just as easily. Pleasure was punishment and humiliation. And something that was supposed to be beautiful was so ugly. Bruises faded with time. Injuries healed. But, the wounds scarred deeply. Hidden beneath the surface, behind smiles and layers of makeup. Buried down inside where nobody saw them but you. And sometimes those scars were the only form of sanity. The only gauge of what was real and what was not, a person had. Kayla looked at their reflections in the mirror. Her pallor stood out in stark contrast to Angel's darker complexion. They were opposites. Day and night. She was the very picture of Middle America, apple pie, hometown parades, and church every Sunday morning. Blue eyed, blonde haired, a living Barbie doll. Angel was the brooding, brown eyed, black haired, epitome of gothic leather and depressive angst. And they truly were best friends. Kayla wished it wasn't their pasts that had brought them together and held them bound. But, rather their futures and the hope in them that kept them friends. Maybe, in a way it was. If Angel were without any hope, promise or not, she would have left by now. "I guess its show time." Angel gave Kayla's shoulders one last squeeze and stood. She wasn't very good at the mushy girl time stuff. But, Kayla understood everything she couldn't say. By pushing past her aversion to touch, Angel had reached out to her in a way she had few others. And in doing that, a simple hug, she'd said it all. The beads knocked together, creating a symphony of sound and color as Kayla rose from the bench. Carefully she shifted the soft leather belt draped around her waist. After today, her life would be different. She would be a wife. Bound to a man, her man, forever. After today, everything would be about the two of them. And she'd never be alone, drifting in an uncertain world. Bryce had pulled her back when no one else could reach her. He'd made her want to believe again. Given her hope that there were good things to look forward to. And helped her work her way through the dark maze of all the bad. He'd accepted her for who she was. He'd never treated or seen her as a victim of her horrible past. And because of him, with his gentle coaxing, she'd taken her first brave steps into the light of hope and love. Kayla wanted what she'd found with Bryce for Angel. Angel deserved good after so much bad. There was only so much she could do though. So much anyone could do. Angel had to want it too. She had to want to move forward, out of the dark and find the bravery to step beyond it into the light. Kayla reached out and took Angel's hand in hers. Wrapping her palm around Angel's fingers to give them a tight squeeze. Staring down at their locked fingers, she remembered the last time Angel had held her hand with such tightness and ferocity. It had been the night that she'd been transformed. Although it had only been a couple of months ago, it seemed like a lifetime. That night was nothing but vague memories of pain and bitter cold. Bryce held her in his arms. His blood had turned her into what she was. But, it was Angel's hand holding hers that jerked her out of death's grip. Angel's promise, whispered in such urgency and truth, somehow got through to her on a level Bryce's pleas had not. She'd drunk that night for Angel. Not for Bryce, Keene, or even herself, only for Angel. Kayla had always borne a certain measure of guilt for bringing Angel into this world. She'd been the one to introduce her to Roark. And in doing so, she'd condemned Angel to a living hell nobody should ever have to endure. In drinking, in living instead of dying that night, she'd absolved herself of the guilt. Angel would have died with her that night. Not physically. But spiritually, Angel would have never survived. Kayla had been so cold and close to death. Angel had grabbed her hand, held it tightly, and made a promise. Angel didn't take her vows lightly. And to this day, she lived by her word. The promise was a simple one. Angel had promised to live if she did. Kayla had drunk that night for love, for hope and a future. To return the life she'd taken from a terrified, starving, tormented dark eyed girl, and for her salvation. Angel gently unwound her fingers from Kayla's and met her eyes. In them she found so much understanding, friendship, and connection. Angel had tried so hard to escape her past. But, Kayla had truly mastered it. Managed to move forward with her life instead of wandering the maze of her past over and over again. Angel meant every word she'd promised on the bluffs. She was still trying to live. But, where Kayla had found her way out of the maze of horrors. She just kept stumbling from one dead end to another. Her pain exhausted her. Her fear shamed her. And her hope dulled little by little. Maybe, for her, there was no way out. No escape. And she'd spend her whole life searching endlessly for something that didn't exist. No gift seemed meaningful enough to give Kayla on one of the most meaningful days of her life. Useless baubles, expensive crap to collect dust, none of it was right. Nothing said best friend. Nothing conveyed the proper depth of importance or truly summed up Angel's feelings for her friend. Trust was of more value than a pair of silver candlesticks. Promises that were kept didn't end up stashed on a shelf and forgotten about. And a shared past, no matter how horrific it had been, could not be wrapped in pretty paper and bows. Extending her left arm, she offered the only wedding present she felt was worthy of giving. Her trust, her promise, and her past, flowed through her veins. Kayla nodded in acceptance and understanding. Blood was life. Blood was binding. And blood was forever. Angel offered her everything that she was. Her gift. And Kayla would never receive a gift of more worth in her long life. She extended her wrist to Angel. There was no hesitation in Angel's expression. No glimmer of reluctance in her eyes. Locking stares with Angel, she bit and drank, taking Angel into her body as Angel did the same to her. Blood flowed, merging with blood, two halves made irrevocably into a whole. The women drank from one another sealing their lives and souls as one. There were no secrets, no hiding, and no separation. Much as a drop of water fell and became an ocean, so it was with their blood. It flowed, from one to the other and ebbed into the collective consciousness Kayla shared with the brotherhood through Bryce. Everything. Every life. Every past. And every future was one. A gentle rap on the door interrupted the tender moment of sharing. Withdrawing her fangs and licking the wound on Angel's wrist closed, Kayla called out, "Just a minute." Angel sealed the punctures on Kayla's wrist with the tip of her tongue and watched the wounds fade. Roark had managed to take so much from the both of them. But, he hadn't taken everything. He hadn't killed the part of them that made them who they were. He'd damaged them. He'd harmed them. But, he'd never managed to break them. "Go, before you're late to your own wedding." Kayla nodded and took a deep breath. This was it. And as scary as the thought of it was, she was ready to begin her future. "The job of bridesmaid is still open, if you want it." "Very much," Angel said. And she meant it. "But, I'm fresh out of lavender taffeta." She had nothing to wear to a wedding. Let alone anything dressy enough to be a bridesmaid. Janine had gotten the message loud and clear when her attempts to dress Angel 'like a woman' had ended up as nothing more than a pile of shredded rags on the floor. After bawling like a baby over the abuse of designer labels and expensive fabrics, Janine had left her and her black wardrobe alone. "No lavender taffeta. Angel, you look perfect just the way you are. But, could you try to smile...just a little?" "Now you're pushing your luck," Angel teased. Smile? Once. Maybe. Just for Kayla and only for today. Impatient and demanding another knock sounded at the door. Janine pounded her fist against the wood furiously. She had planned many weddings and prided herself on the masterpieces she created. Each and every one of them had started on time, until this one. She ran a tight ship and she needed Kayla to get on board. A kernel of worry blossomed in her mind and took root. What if Kayla had changed her mind at the last minute? "Kayla, the wedding can't start without you. Please, hurry up. You're ruining my reputation as a wedding planner. We're going to be late!" Lori elbowed Janine out of the way and gently rapped on the door with her knuckles. Janine had all the tact of a runaway freight train. Kayla was nervous enough without Janine's badgering. What the situation called for was a little feminine grace and gentleness. "What Janine means to say is that Bryce is about ten seconds from a total melt down and another five seconds from coming down here. Please, don't keep the poor guy waiting." Janine agreed with Lori. Bryce had been waiting long enough for someone special in his life. Kayla couldn't cancel on him. She couldn't back out now. Janine would haul that woman to the bluffs herself to get this wedding pulled off without a hitch. Bryce deserved his happiness. And Janine would do anything to see that he got it. She opened her mouth to tell Kayla that much and ended up with Lori's palm smooshed against her lips. "What?" she mumbled against Lori's palm. Lori shook her head, threatening Janine to keep her big mouth shut with a hard glare. Kayla wasn't changing her mind. The delay had nothing to do with the wedding or marrying Bryce. Lori had a unique perspective on Kayla and Angel's friendship. During her captivity with Roark, she'd suffered just a small portion of what these two women had been through. And the experience, the horror of feeling so helpless, still gave her nightmares. This was their time. And while she hated that Bryce was out on the bluffs waiting for his bride, probably pacing the ground bare. He'd keep for another few minutes while Kayla had her time with Angel. Kayla snatched up Angel in a hug, squeezing her tightly. Angel didn't shy away. She hugged her back. And the gift of her trust, of her friendship, was all she needed to make her wedding day complete. "Thank you, Angel. For everything," Kayla said. Angel returned Kayla's hug and released her. Pausing to straighten Kayla's dress and settle the fringe over her shoulders, she said, "You ready to get married?" Kayla nodded. "More than." Chapter 3 Raindrops fell. Pooled in the shallow places. Time passed and the shallow places grew deeper and wider. Watery fingers stretched across the flat ground always searching. Digging at the rock. Pushing at the land. Clawing for purchase with relentless, greedy hands. A trickle became a stream and the stream grew into a river. Water flowed, spilling into the ocean. Winds blew across the waters, carrying the drops skyward. On clouds the drops rode to distant places to fall on the land, tumble into the stream, and flow ceaselessly to the vast ocean. Life is water. Water is life. Through every living thing it flows. From the thirsty ground it is stolen and to the earth's parched lips, so it returns. Blood flowed into the cup and the cup was passed from one set of lips to another. Drinking down vows and swallowing promises, the blood bound soul to soul, life to life, and heart to heart. There was no one, only the whole. Bride and groom. Man and woman. One life shared by two. Given to the other. Bled into the cup and consumed. Future and past, each life ceaselessly, inseparably, and eternally bound to the other. Bryce whispered the words reverently, his palm resting over Kayla's pounding heart. Without reservation, he drank from the cup, of his blood, of her sweet blood, and of the blood of the ancients. Magic rent the air with a ripple of power. Flowing from him into her. In his whole life, he'd never been more certain of anything than he was of this. All the scattered pieces finally fit together and he was whole. He'd led a life of service and sacrifice. And now, it made sense why. It'd all been for this moment. All of it had been to prepare him for her. Dawn's Path: Completed Work Kayla rested her hand over Bryce's wildly beating heart. With trembling lips, she spoke her vow. Gave herself away and she took him, everything he ever was and ever would be, into her. She drank from the cup till the last drop it held rolled over her tongue. Sweet life flowed into her. A love so potent and pure filled every part of her being to the point she thought she might burst from the joy of it. And the brothers, always the brothers, joined her, whispering their thoughts into her mind. Their lives bound to hers. Her life bound to theirs. Through the blood in the cup and the blood flowing in her veins. She was one of many, yet, an individual. She belonged to herself and to everybody else. And after traveling so very far through the darkness, she'd finally found light and love. Dane closed the ceremony with a prayer in a language that had long since been forgotten by most of the world. After so much tragedy and so many lives lost. Pyres burned and blood spilled on this very ground. It was good to be gathered here for a happy occasion. These days, joy seemed fleeting and far too rare. Bad things happened and they were hard to forget. The good things were far too difficult to remember. The brotherhood needed a day like today to bolster their weary spirits. He needed today for the very same reason. The war seemed like it would never end. And a bigger part of him still believed the brothers hadn't seen the last of it yet. Roark's death was just a temporary reprieve. Something bigger was coming. The rogues had no master. And it was just a matter of time before the fighting over the territory began. Today was not the day to think of it. Today he was content to just be happy for Kayla and Bryce and to pretend the worst was behind them. He saw it on his brothers' expressions. They were no more convinced than he. Smiling widely, Dane announced Kayla and Bryce as man and wife and presented the happily united couple to the brotherhood. After congratulating them, he gracefully slipped out of the way. Ducking through the crowd converging on Bryce and Kayla, he searched for someplace quiet where he could mull over his thoughts in relative privacy. And perhaps, enjoy a stolen moment of peace while it lasted. The fresh spring air was loaded with the fragrant scent of blooms and new life. The nights were still cold and the ground a soggy, muddy mess. The days were crisp and flooded with sunshine. Tulips bravely poked their brilliantly colored heads through the soil. Lemon-yellow daffodils and vibrant royal-purple crocuses braved the morning frost to dot the stark gray and brown of winter's forlorn landscape with color. Red buds formed on gnarled, twisted branches forever reaching skyward in a forgotten plea. And robins, their orange-red chests puffed with anticipation, greeted each golden, glowing morning with song. Instead of finding the sweet scents of the season inspiring, Angel found them stifling. Internally, she felt trapped. Stuck between the literal rock and a hard place. Her heart was torn between stubbornly holding on to her fears and letting them go. Everyone here was so connected, almost as if they were an extension of one another. Oh, the people here, the brothers, were still individuals. But, they were so much more. And it was difficult to not want to be a part of it. To hold her innermost self back, floating on a choppy sea of separation, instead of drowning in an ocean of togetherness. The wedding was everything a wedding was supposed to be. Happy. Encouraging. So hopeful and filled with love it made her fangs ache from the sweetness of it all. Kayla was a shining star and she'd never shone more brilliantly than she had tonight. And Bryce, the way he looked at Kayla, as if nobody else existed but her, always her, and forever her, was almost enough to make Angel believe true love was actually possible. In the end the skeptic in her won out and as brothers rushed forward to congratulate the happy couple, she eased into the backdrop, out of sight and obviously out of mind. Angel found herself genuinely caring for the people that called this place home. Janine was so pert and perky, and for a human, so damned energetic that sometimes it drove Angel to the brink of insanity. But, often, Janine's quirkiness was such a diversion from Angel's darker moods that she often sought her out. Alex, although cautious and aloof, and just a bit distant, was always ready to engage in a verbal sparring match. Robbie kept her fit in the gym. Constantly putting her through the workout routines with the fierce regimented rigor of a drill sergeant. When she needed to simply sit and chill, Chris was always available, offering the solidity of her calming presence. Whenever the weight of the world got too heavy, Angel could always count on Lori to remind her that she wasn't nine thousand years old and it was ok to cut loose and have a little fun, once in a while. Anna never ceased to amaze Angel with her viewpoint on the world. Anna had seen its share of awfulness and instead of becoming a victim she chose to be a victor. And while Angel had never had a real mother, Candace was never too busy to act as a surrogate. It amazed Angel the way the men took care of their wives. It was obvious who ruled the roost. The men were at the mercy of the fairer sex. John Mark was fierce on the battlefield and in his role of protector. But, when Robbie snapped her fingers, he came running. Dane was hot tempered, sometimes unreasonably so. But, around his wife, he was gentle as a kitten. Chris kept him and his temper under control. Will and Candace, old high school sweethearts, were still very much in love and often a little too passionate in public places. Angel always walked a bit noisily when there was a chance she might embarrass herself by bumping into them. Toby, there was nothing he wouldn't do for his Anna. Including sending her a thousand texts a day to tell her how much he loved her. Chance was light-hearted and very caring. He doted on Alex. And the way Patrick followed Janine around, reminded Angel of a lost puppy. Even the new additions, Sebastian and Starr were fitting in. Finding their niche in the tightly knit society. Sebastian was highly skilled with a dagger. And Starr painted murals on the concrete walls of the stark corridors. Nature scenes of beauty and peaceful serenity, so realistic that it felt as if you were standing in the woods or on a tropical beach. And their love for one another, it flowed between them in an endless tide. Sometimes, Angel felt like the odd man out. She fit, but she didn't. As much as it pained her to admit it, the not fitting in was her own fault. Everyone, despite their colorful and various backgrounds, made an effort to find where they belonged in this world. She did not. Standoffish and cool, distanced from everybody, she genuinely believed she was better off alone. If it weren't for that damnable promise, she might have been gone by now. She should go. In time Kayla would forget the words Angel had spoken out of desperation. In time, Kayla would forget about her too. The question hung over her head. Where? Where would she go where she did fit in? Life was too dangerous for those who belonged to no one. Strays were nothing but meat for anyone stronger. Angel had made a promise to herself that night. Watching Roark burn on the pyre, she'd vowed with everything in her that she'd never bow to a master. She'd rather die than be on her knees again. Fear held her back. Roark was dead. His body burned on the pyre. But, there were plenty of others out there willing to fill the gap he'd left behind. The city was wide open. The rogues were masterless and thirsty for blood. Roark, for all his sadism and ruthlessness had served a purpose. He kept the rogues in line. And without him, it was just a matter of time. Angel saw it. The dread and the knowledge of that simple fact haunted the brothers' eyes. The battle might be done. But, the war was far from over. Going...somewhere...hiding might save her life. Temporarily. There were worse masters out there than Roark. Eric O'Sullivan was one of them. The bastard was lethal. Cruel in ways that made Roark seem tender. O'Sullivan wasn't a sick, twisted, fuck of a pervert like Roark. Not that Angel had enjoyed her time with him by any means. But, she hadn't left his private rooms a bloody, beaten, bruised mess, either. At least, there was that. Roark had no taste for cold-blooded murder. He didn't play with his food. He killed quickly, mercifully. He'd take what he wanted then end it. O'Sullivan killed for fun. He prolonged the game. Drained his victims slowly. Screwed with their heads to the point they thanked him for the privilege of dying. It was the only time Roark had ever protected her. To him, she was a possession, an object. But, not even he had the stomach for the Rogue Master's appetites. O'Sullivan was across the country. Distance was in the brotherhood's favor. Eric governed the western states with a tight fist. Hopefully, he was too busy to notice Roark's absence. Like every other Rogue Master she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting though. He thought the sun rose and set in his ass. And he operated under the belief that he was somehow untouchable. If he set his sights on the city there'd be no stopping him. If she was nothing else, she was smart. Angel's instincts growled in protest every time she thought of leaving. Prompting her to stay put. Here, she was safe. Out there, it was just a matter of time before her luck ran out. She wasn't so certain she could do what she'd have to do to survive. Life was cruel. Life was hard. And for a vampire it could be intolerable. Humans didn't know how good they had it. At the time, when she had been one, she certainly hadn't. She hadn't been able to see past the terror of her life through to the true value of it. Dying might have been better than the world she'd found herself forced into. There was no freedom in this life. She'd taken life to save hers. Choking on the vampire's blood, and clutching the knife she'd used to slit his throat, she'd been reborn into a world she didn't belong. She'd realized too late what she'd done. Desperation drove her to murder. Changed her from who she'd been into the thing she'd become. And there was no going back. Inside, deep in their very core, vampires were predators. They thirsted endlessly. Craved blood with a fury that knew no limits. And there was almost nothing they wouldn't do for a few seconds worth of peace from the plague of their thirst. Including murder. The lives she'd taken could never be brought back. For a time, revenge was the only thing that fueled her. A payback for the pain and for the death she'd thought she'd been forced to die. Unable to deal with her guilt and self-hatred, unwilling to face the pain and her past, she'd turned on the only friend she'd ever had. Kayla. Willingly she'd returned to Roark's side. Served him out of nothing more than sheer stupidity. How odd it was though, when she'd been a powerless human, he'd craved her flesh and blood, her very soul. As a vampire, he didn't want her. He only sought to use her, and she, to use him. Angel hadn't seen the truth. She truly believed Kayla had left her behind to suffer in her place. Kayla hadn't. She'd done what she'd had to do to save her life. And Kayla had been right about everything. If she'd stayed, Roark would have eventually killed them both. Angel owed the Sons a debt she could never repay. Instead of dispatching justice on her, they'd taken her in. Keene knew of her past and of Kayla's. He'd borne silent witness to it all. And although totally devoted to the brotherhood, hadn't shared their secrets. Kayla had held the past behind closed lips. The three of them had suffered together in ways none of the brothers could imagine. Roark was dead. And finally, they were free. Lost in a private hell of Roark's making, Kayla and Keene had found their way out. Only she remained trapped. Hovering in indecision between a past she could not escape and a future that seemed so unattainable. The only thing she could do was at the very least keep her word to Kayla. It wasn't fear of what was out there that held her rooted to this place. It was her past and that damnable promise she never should have made. Even now, standing in the shadows alone on the fringes, she didn't begrudge Keene or Kayla their happiness. Keene had Lori and Kayla, Bryce. And she had nothing. The sound of ceremonial drums and laughter echoed off the bluffs, teasing her. Taunting her with the promises of what might be, if she were only brave enough to reach for it. Torn between her longing to fit in and her fear of fitting in and losing the distance that kept her sane and at the same time so lonely, Angel stalked the border of the woods. Wishing things were different. Wishing she were different and she could just let it go. Move beyond her past the way Keene and Kayla had. She needed a diversion. Something to take her mind off her self-imposed exile from the life she could be leading, if she were bold enough live it. Running was her exodus. Only when she ran did she truly feel free. Safe. Her limbs pumping, she bounded into the darkness and let it swallow her whole. She moved so fast. Gracefully leaping over anything in her path. Sheltered by her speed; nothing could stop her. Nobody could catch her. Here, there was nothing but her feet pounding the dirt, the rhythm of her breathing, and the burn in her muscles as she pushed them harder and faster. Her freedom was fleeting though. She could never outrun what she was, what she had been, and she had no idea of where or what she was running toward. The future was just as illusive as freedom. And no matter how hard she tried, it was always out of her grasp. Chapter 4 Lance excused himself from his best man duties and slipped into the woods. Angel might outrun him. But, he could track her. Scents were unique and nobody else smelled quite like her. Sweet and exotic like Confederate jasmine on a sultry summer's night. Angel was in a dangerous place in her life. And no one seemed to recognize the signs, except for him. She hovered in a neverland of indecision, lost and alone. Maybe, it was best to let her go. The brotherhood had done everything in their power to help her fit in. He had done everything he could to make her see how much she belonged. And no matter what he'd tried. It hadn't been enough. He was going to find a way to get through to her. No matter what it took. Whatever hell she'd suffered had damaged her severely. But, she was not as broken as she believed herself to be. She was terrified. And that was why she ran, not physically, but emotionally from everyone and everything. He'd love to kill Roark all over again, just to give her the peace of mind she needed to let the past go. There wasn't anything in her future that could hurt her besides her own self-destruction. He'd seen her once, as she truly was. She'd opened herself up. Raw and exposed, overwhelmed by emotions she'd reached out to the Great Father and pulled him back from the oblivion of his grief over the loss of his brother. Nobody else could have done that. And they all owed her a debt for her bravery. The least he could do was try to save her now, when it was so painfully obvious she needed saving. Angel wasn't a pet project. Saving her from herself was no mission of mercy. The brotherhood needed her. They did. But, he was kidding himself to think the brothers were his only motive. Truth was, he needed her. Somehow she'd managed to work her way under his skin. Oh sure, he was her friend. But, the feelings he had for her weren't exactly friendly. Lust rode him hard. The stolen kiss had sealed the deal for him. He'd tasted the passion on her lips. Breathed in the woman she hid from the world. And nothing about him had ever been the same since. He wanted more. He craved Angel in a way that went beyond the simplicity of a midnight tryst. The women he'd taken to his bed had been too easy to forget afterwards. One time with her would be unforgettable. And once would never be enough. Hell yeah, he was horny. But, his sex drive wasn't what pushed him to the brink of insanity and caused the maddening rise in his groin every time he got within eyeshot of her. His need was instinctive, almost primal. They belonged together. He knew it deep in the marrow of his bones. He hadn't been looking for a mate. He hadn't wanted one. But, his body and his heart really didn't care what he wanted. He'd done the unthinkable based on nothing more than a simple kiss. He'd fallen in love. And if he weren't careful, it would destroy the both of them. Lance followed Angel, keeping his distance and his scent downwind to avoid tipping her off to the fact she had company. Angel was still so fragile and withdrawn. He saw everything she so desperately tried to hide. She'd cringe visibly from the slightest of accidental touches. Sounds and scents, innocuous to most, would cause her hands to tremble uncontrollably. She shied away from people. Avoided eye contact. Deliberately maneuvered to keep people where she could see them. Her personal space was as far away from anyone as she could get. She was always aware, hyperaware, of her surroundings. And even around the few she trusted, she never let her guard down. She never truly had a moment's worth of peace. The brothers respected her needs. Most of them understood her unspoken demand for space. Not all of the brothers had a happy past. Violence was a part of their lives. Some of them had suffered terribly at the hands of the enemy and it wasn't something easily forgotten. Angel didn't realize it. But, the brothers were fiercely protective of her. Especially Keene. He'd been Roark's second for over a century. And he'd seen first hand the torment Roark had put her through. Out of respect for her, he never spoke of the horrors she'd been forced to endure. He didn't have to. All anyone had to do was look past Angel's rough exterior and they could fill in the blanks for themselves. Her scars, the fine lines around her wrists and the pockmark divots at her neck, hinted at the abuse Roark had put her though. He'd used her thoroughly. Roughly. Painfully. Relentlessly. As much as what she'd suffered sickened him, Lance had a gut feeling Roark wasn't the only sadistic fuck responsible for her scars. Rules or not, he thoroughly agreed with Keene about one thing. Anyone who had ever or ever would even think about harming a hair on her head was a dead man. Dane would pitch them both out of the brotherhood. But, it'd be worth it. Angel was his to protect. And he'd die before he'd let anyone hurt her again. Lance silently stalked her trail to a secluded edge of the lake and ducked behind a tangle of spindly bushes. Oblivious to his presence, she stood on the rocky shore, staring out into the black water. The play of shadow from the moonlight highlighted her features. Tormented by the anguish he saw in her expression, he longed to reach out to her. She'd push him away and resent the fact that he'd offered her any measure of comfort. Angel didn't operate that way. And she'd only see her need for nothing more than a simple hug as weakness. Hiding in the bushes, he watched Angel fight a private war with herself. One she would never win. Angel was fiercely independent. She never spoke of her past. She carried it in her heart with brave, silent, dignity. What she didn't say had told him everything he'd ever wanted to know and plenty that he didn't. She peeled off her leather jacket, dropping it at her feet on the rocky beach. Her eyes never left the shimmering glossy black surface of the water. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, whispering things only she alone could hear. Her jaw set, she tugged off her boots and kicked them to the side. Freeing her feet of her socks, she dug her toes into the gritty sand and biting rocks. Lance had no idea what she was up to. What thoughts were running through her mind as she pulled her turtleneck over her head and cast it to the ground. He shivered in sympathy for her exposed skin. Even in his insulated winter gear the night was cold. Riddled with angry, puckered, linear scars, her back bore the evidence of Roark's cruelty. Outraged at the thought of her helpless and beaten bloody he balled his hands into fists at his side and prayed whatever hell the goddess had sent Roark to was truly worthy of a sick, twisted, sadistic fuck like him. Dawn's Path: Completed Work Angel still had no idea she was being watched. Lance was careful to shield his thoughts from her. She smelled of the brotherhood. The essence of their power radiated from her every pore. Blood was the source of their magic. It linked them together and bound them to one another. She had taken of their strength. Drank of their gift and of their lives. He sensed the spark of her uniqueness in his mind. Shocked speechless by the realization she'd trusted someone at her wrist, Lance understood exactly what a leap of faith she'd taken. The wedding gift he'd bought Bryce and Kayla, although expensive and very nice, paled in comparison. In an ultimate show of trust, she'd given of herself. Her gift had cost her nothing and at the same time, everything. Shamed by his crystal candleholders, Lance inwardly groaned at the tightening in his groin as Angel wiggled out of her snug, low-riding jeans and stood on the beach in nothing but her matching bra and panties. What in the hell was she doing? Not that he minded the private show in the least. But, damn, it was barely forty degrees out here. He'd be freezing his balls off by now. He liked her choice in undergarments. Especially since he'd bought them for her. Worth every damn penny he'd squandered out of his stipend. Black lace and bits of clingy silk had never looked so good. Hardened to ripe peaks by the cold, her nipples and the deep berry shaded areola were plainly visible through the sheer fabric of the bra. The lace panties left little to the imagination. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the slit between the juncture of her thighs. She was bare there. Smooth and sleek. Suddenly very, very warm, he tugged at the collar of his Kevlar gear and swallowed hard. It was all he could do to stay put and not crawl across the rocky beach and beg her to have mercy on him. To put her clothes back on before he did something to embarrass them both. Clad in nothing more than her barely there underwear. Lance gasped as she climbed onto the dock and dove into the icy water. In watching Angel plunge into the stinging cold lake, Lance began to understand her a little better. Angel battled one pain with another. She didn't like to suffer anymore than anybody else did. No doubt, as frigid as the night air was, the water was twice as cold and it hurt. But, the physical pain she inflicted on her body was better than the constant anguish of her battered mind. He couldn't stand her pain. There had to be someway to pull her out of it. Show her a life where pain didn't exist and there was nothing but joy and pleasure. But, how? On his feet and out of his hiding place he moved to the shore. Abandoning his jacket on the rocks, he peeled off his gear and stripped down. The water would be freezing. It was going to hurt. A lot. But, it wouldn't kill him. Angel had yet to notice his presence. She swam under the water and only poked her head out long enough to suck in a quick breath of air. Cursing at the cold and his general stupidity, he took a deep breath and jumped in headfirst. Chapter 5 Carter didn't trust the city's dead calm. Even at this time of night, it was never this quiet or the streets this deserted. He'd been prowling the sidewalks for weeks, keeping watch. Roark was dead. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. The rogues were subdued by the shock of their master's untimely demise. But, nothing held their hunger in check for very long. Gradually, they grew brave enough to creep out of their hiding places. And out of ultimate stupidity, gorged in excess on his fair city. Nasty fuckers. Carter kicked the corpse at his feet in disgust. The rogue he'd killed deserved to die. He'd love nothing more than to stick the vile thing's head on a pike in warning. It'd been hard enough to hide the evidence of rogue activity when they'd been under Roark's rule. With him gone, it was damn near impossible to clean up the mess they left in their wake. Humans tended to notice things like bodies left in alleys to rot. And damn it, he'd interrupted this rogue's meal. Great. He hated the thought of killing. Humans anyway. Rogues were a different story entirely. What in the hell was he supposed to do with the witness? Witnesses were a complication he couldn't afford. He ground his fangs in irritation. If he'd waited a few more minutes he wouldn't have had to deal with the woman scrabbling on all fours to crawl away from him. She would have been dead. Drained of blood by the rogue feasting at her carotid. Shit. Damn his sense of rightness and his timing. Where was his policy of non-involvement now? When it might have actually been of some value to him? She'd talk. Wasn't likely that anybody would believe her. But, he couldn't take the chance that somebody would. Gently sliding his bloody katana into the sheath at his back, he held up his hands to show he meant no harm. He'd been charming random women into his bed for centuries. In the throes of orgasm, they didn't seem to mind it when he sampled a bit more than their bodies. Somehow, he didn't think his charm would have the desired effect on her. This terrified waif cowering on the concrete had been brutalized viciously. Her trembling fingers protectively guarded her savaged neck. Blood ran in a steady stream from the wound, down her pale hand and onto the concrete. She would not be easily convinced by the deception of a pretty face. As well she shouldn't. He was no safer than the rogue that had attacked her. They were all predators, each and every one of them. And the woman was prey. She didn't have much time left. If he did nothing, nature would take its course and she'd die. He knew what it felt like to die horribly. If he took her to the hospital, modern medicine would save her life. She would talk. There would be a police investigation. He couldn't risk what the ineptitude of the city's finest might inadvertently uncover. Even if the police found nothing. There was always some crackpot a little too willing to believe and more than a bit too close to the truth. Carter forced a smile he didn't feel onto his lips and tried to look as non-threatening as he could. "Shh, you're safe," he whispered. Panting in agony the woman stared at him, her eyes darting from the corpse of the vampire he'd dispatched to hell to his outstretched hand. This one was smart. Even on the verge of death, she understood the truth of what he was. The regret of the reality and her acceptance of it stung to the depths of his soul. He couldn't let her live. And she knew it. But, he could offer her an alternative. "You don't have to die." He crouched and approached her. His hand hovered near her shoulder, his fingers stretching to close the distance between them. "I can't give you back your old life. But, I can give you a new one." He wondered what she saw as she stared at him in wide-eyed terror. If not for her horrified expression, she would have been beautiful in a way few women were. He knew the pain beauty caused. Rogues weren't necessarily picky about their diet. To them, a pretty face was nothing more than garnish on the plate. Pleasing to the eye and stimulating to the appetite. His outward appearance had condemned him long ago. Chosen for nothing more than the blessing of masculine beauty, Carter hadn't had a choice. Granted, he hadn't given the woman much of one either. But, at least, she had the ultimate say over her fate. He didn't have it in him to force someone into this life as he had been. And he couldn't trust that she'd keep his secret safe. Too many lives hung in the balance. He remembered the days of pitchforks and angry mobs of villagers. The way his kind had been ruthlessly hunted to the brink of extinction and all but driven out of Europe. Vampires could feel pain. And they could die. Horribly. Hell was full of ravaged souls. And he'd be damned if he'd give Satan one more to add to his collection. Forcing her into this life would only serve to add one more rogue to the number he'd have to kill later. And it was an unfortunate truth. The newborn usually went after family first. There was no point to hide what he was from her. What she would become, if she chose to accept his offer. He elongated his fangs, curling the tip of his tongue around the lethally sharp points. "Demon," she hissed with all the venom she could muster in her dying state. "Death....I want...to die...never...be...like you." Carter exhaled. He thought as much. No one would choose to become this thing on purpose. Immortality wasn't worth it. He lived in hell everyday. And when he finally died, it was to the eternal pits he'd go. He'd resolved himself to his eventual destination the moment he'd opened his eyes into the bleak darkness of his world. There was no heaven for any of them. "I'm sorry," he said. He fell on her and finished what the rogue started. Choking on the bile rising in his throat, he drank down her life and delivered her soul into God's hands. Cradling the woman's dead body in his arms, he glared up into the night sky. Even in death, he could not grant the woman peace. Her final thoughts had been of the family she was leaving behind. They'd think she ran away. That she didn't love them and had abandoned them. They'd never know the truth of what happened to her. In taking her life, he'd condemned her loved ones to a living hell. He'd taken away the last act of kindness he could have given her, and them. Closure. There would be no body to unearth. No evidence to uncover. And she'd never be laid to rest. His eyes glossed over with unshed tears of regret for what he'd done. And for what his maker had forced him to become. "Damn you O'Sullivan! Damn you to hell!" The construction site two blocks away made the perfect place to stash a corpse. Little did the humans know, the city and its towering skyscrapers were a necropolis of unmarked graves and buried secrets. Cursing his maker and every vampire to walk the earth, including himself, Carter observed a moment of silence for the unknown woman. God forgive him for what he'd done, because he never would. With a bellyful of self-condemnation, empty and starving for vengeance, Carter wiped the blade of his katana clean and returned it to the sheath strapped to his back. Roark's absence wouldn't go unnoticed for long. And he dreaded the one who might come to take Roark's place. The city needed a protector and the rogues, a master. But, it wasn't him. And he'd die before he let O'Sullivan step one foot inside his city's borders. Bianca hung back, watching her 'brother' dispose the body. Carter was so predictable it was pathetic. O'Sullivan had a particular interest in the city. Especially, since he'd discovered Carter was one of its inhabitants. She could thank Roark for that favor. The bastard idiot had disclosed Carter's location in an attempt to garner Eric's favor. Eric was not so easily impressed. And neither was she. Roark should be glad he was dead. Otherwise she would have killed him for his stupidity and the events he'd set in motion. Eric had been biding his time for centuries. Waiting for the day Carter stumbled into his sights. The world and all the people in it were not big enough to keep him from eventually finding Carter. And now that he had, Eric was pulling out all the stops to get him back. The city was just an added bonus to what he really wanted. Bianca had what she came for, information and that was it. Eric didn't want his presence in the city known just yet. He hadn't even begun to make his first move. Carter would know it when Eric did. And then, it'd be best for everyone to get out of their way and let them play the game out to the bitter end. Glancing up at her companion, she frowned at the haunted expression on his face. In his fist, he clutched a battered flier he'd snatched from a bulletin board. Buried beneath random postings, out of the hundreds pinned to the board he'd honed in on it almost immediately. He stared at the page, as if the faded, neatly typed words would somehow change. There was no mistaking the picture of the boy on the flier. He very much resembled the teenager so eager to become a man he had been. He looked exactly the same, except for the lack of innocence in his deceptively youthful face. Bianca supposed it wasn't easy to accept that the people who were supposed to love you had given up ever trying to find you almost five years ago and had written you off completely. He didn't look up from the flier to acknowledge her. Ok, so the world thought he was dead. They were all dead. Animated corpses. Even the living were as good as dead, eventually. "David, come," she said. Annoyed by the way he ignored her and refused to follow the simplest of commands, she tore the page from his trembling fingers and crumpled it into a ball. Tossing it to land in the filth along the curb. Eric could not believe his good fortune. Imagine returning here and finding the path already cleared. The Sons had done their jobs well and finally eliminated Roark for once and for all. And he could not have been happier when the news of Roark's unfortunate demise reached him. How could he have possibly stayed away once he'd learned the truth of Carter's location? It would be even easier for him than what he'd planned. Roark in his eagerness to impress had handed him the world on a silver platter. It was time to bring his prodigal son into the fold once again. Carter had been very tricky. Carefully covering his tracks for centuries. Blending in with the crowd. Creatively hiding in the masses. Eventually, Eric knew Carter would slip up. There was too much good left in him to believe otherwise. The rogues had driven him out of hiding by doing nothing other than what their natures dictated they do. And of course, his Carter would never let such deeds go unanswered. Every great leader needed an even greater command post. And where better to set up a base of operations than one the rogues were already familiar with. Roark's penthouse had needed a bit of spit and polish. Actually, Eric had practically gutted the place to make it livable. Underneath the smell of newness and fresh paint, he could still detect the faint stink of the corpses left behind to rot. He was surprised that Carter hadn't popped by to pay him a visit. But, then again, Carter never did anything that might distinguish him from the herd. Even in picking off the random rogues that got out of hand, he was discreet. Carter was no leader. And the brotherhood, while in Eric's backyard, was predictable. As long as someone kept the rogues in check, they would not interfere. The city had a lot to offer. But, in it there was only one thing he wanted. And he would have him soon enough. Chapter 6 Angel paused at the placid edge of the lake. The surface was glossy and calm, with barely a ripple lapping at the rocky shore. Staring into the alien obsidian darkness, she unzipped her jacket and dropped it into an abandoned heap on the rocks. The night air was cold against her cheeks. This was exactly what she needed. What she had been craving. Pain was the ultimate diversion. Only physical abuse would stop the endlessly agonizing torment of the thoughts pounding against the inside of her skull. Wave after wave her emotions assaulted her. Happiness. Sadness. Fear. Distrust. Memories she'd rather not recall. The makings of tears she'd never dared to cry. Self-pity. Anger. Rage. Hatred. Joy. Confusion. Bitter longing. Emptiness. Over and over again, each of the wayward emotions ripped her heart to shreds. She disgusted herself. The very thing she'd hated Roark for was the only form of solace she desired. He had managed to do what he'd set out to do. And she was broken beyond repair. Stripping off her boots and socks, she teased her body with the promise of pain. The rocks dug into the soles of her bare feet. Her toes stung from the cold and she sighed her first breath of relief. Cold was a matter of opinion in the vampire world. It would take more than a mild case of hypothermia to cause the kind of escape she needed. Cursing her more durable body, Angel tugged the black turtleneck over her head and dropped it on the ground. The hairs on her exposed arms stood at attention. Her skin goose pimpled and her teeth chattered. But, it still wasn't enough to divert her unwelcome emotions. She needed more pain. The cabin sat dark and empty behind her. The wooden shutters had been closed and secured in place to protect the windows from the winter storms and ice. Spring was sluggish to arrive. The snow had melted from the warmth of the day, to refreeze and coat the rock with a slick covering of ice once night plunged the world into darkness. The sight of the forlorn cabin and the isolation of this forgotten summer land angered her even more. Anger at the fool she'd made of herself that night slammed home and took root in her mind. Smelling blood and sex, she'd broken down the door to rescue Kayla. Only to realize that Kayla wasn't the one in need of saving and she was. The black lake water gently lapped at the shore. Angel shimmied out of her jeans and kicked them to the side. Standing in her underwear she stared out over the dark water. More pain. Her limbs trembled from the cold. Out of reflex she wrapped her arms around her body to conserve what little heat she could. Forcing her arms to her side, she balled her hands into fists and squared her jaw in determination. Practically naked and shivering uncontrollably, she still didn't have the escape she needed. Battered by her thoughts and in desperation for a few moments worth of peace from them, she climbed onto the wooden deck. Her feet slid on the smooth surface. But, she managed to remain upright as she walked to the edge and stared down into the water. Angel was terrified of the dark. Frightened of desolate places. And this remote setting fed her fears. Her mind played cruel tricks on her. Imaging sounds, the rustle of the bushes, the thump of a heartbeat, and the soft whisper of breathing. Her skin prickled from the sensation of someone watching her. The campground across the lake was closed for the season. The gravel road riddled with deep potholes and caked with ice, was virtually impassable. Dane had cut the patrol route short to spare manpower. The outer boundary of the territory was heavily guarded. But, the lake was only routinely patrolled in the summertime. She was alone out here wrapped in winter's relentless fist. There wasn't anyone watching her. There wasn't anyone to stop her. And nobody to prevent her from the ecstasy of the pain she was about to indulge in. Nobody would ever know how fucked up she was. Gathering her nerve, she stared out over the lake. Thin patches of ice dotted the surface, floating lazily on the gentle current. Moonlight rippled across the water. It looked so peaceful, so soothing. All she had to do was jump. The water was freezing. It would hurt. And it was exactly what she needed. Licking her lips in anticipation for the escape, she ran and leapt off the edge of the dock. The black water swallowed her up and stole her breath. Forcing her arms and legs to move, she forced her body deeper under the water. Pain unlike nothing Roark had unleashed tore at her. Stilling her thoughts till they focused on the heaviness of her frozen limbs, her sluggishly pounding heart, and her burning lungs. This was the peace she craved. The escape she'd hoped for. She broke the water's surface long enough to draw a lungful of air and then pushed her head back under, plummeting down to the rocky bottom of the lake. And she'd never been happier. The sudden violent churning of the water and the sound of an agonized inhuman howl shattered the fragile peace of the darkness. She paddled wildly for the surface, clawing at the water with leaden limbs scarcely under her control. Bursting through a thin sheet of ice, she broke free. Blinking she looked around for the source of the unearthly howl. And blinked twice in disbelief at what she saw. Dawn's Path: Completed Work "Holy mother of...! Son of a bitch! Shit! Shit! Shit! Fucking cold!" Lance bellowed at the top of his lungs. Limbs flailing, he struggled to stay afloat. His body jerked uncontrollably from the cold contorting his limbs. Sputtering, he choked on the water he splashed into his own mouth as he scrabbled to keep his head above the surface. "Damn!" he wailed. He thought he knew how cold, cold could be. Until now, naked as the day he was born, practically drowning in a lake in the middle of March, he had no frigging clue what the true definition of cold was. As annoyed as Angel was at the invasion of her peace, she couldn't help but laugh at Lance's reaction to the cold. She had no idea he knew so many explicative terms or so many creative ways to link them together in a singular sentence. Angel snorted as Lance's lips faded from their normal hue to a strange shade of blue-gray and his teeth chattered. "Too cold for you?" "Damn cold," he huffed. Angel snickered as he glared at a chunk of ice floating past him. Even freezing with every survival instinct he had bucking against the insanity of staying in the water, he couldn't help but lose himself in her. God, she was beautiful when she smiled. He'd never heard her laugh, genuinely laugh, before. It was the most musical, joyous, carefree sound he'd ever had the pleasure of hearing. He'd gladly jump into the water and make a complete fool of himself all over again just to hear her laugh once more. Angel bobbed in the water, gently paddling in circles around him. "I think the water is perfect." She ducked her head under the water and swam. Bumping his leg, she wrapped her hand around his ankle and gave it a sharp tug, dragging him under. He kicked wildly, freeing his ankle from her grip and bellowed, sputtering curse words that even she didn't know the definitions of, as he broke the surface. Stifling a giggle, that was way too girlie sounding, Angel floated on her back. Until she realized he was staring at her. Not exactly at her per se, but at her breasts. The thin scrap of fabric loosely called a bra clung to her erect nipples and left nothing to the imagination. Irritated, she wanted to poke his eyes out for taking visual liberties with her personage. But, she was as flattered as she was annoyed. Besides, it wasn't like he could actually get it up. The cold took care of that quite nicely. Yeah, the fact that he was naked wasn't lost on her. Poor guy had testicles the size of raisinettes from his swim. And thanks to shrinkage, his outtie was an innie. Not his fault. But, funny as hell, given his reputation as a player. Ducking into the water up to her chin, she noticed his trembling bottom lip and the scowl spread across his face. "Oh, come on." She dogpaddled to the wooden ladder and wrapped her hands around the lowest rung. "You shrink up any smaller and it's the ladies room for you from now on." She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him as she grinned. "No shit," he agreed. Lance blew out a breath of sheer longing as he watched Angel climb up the ladder. Her wet panties clung to every crevice of her ass, obscenely highlighting even the slightest detail. Evidentially, he had been a little premature on agreeing with her in declaring his penis as MIA. Apparently, his erection didn't seem to mind the cold nearly as much as he did. Great. He was naked, freezing, and hard as hell without any possible way to hide it. Groaning he paused on the top rung of the ladder. "Do you mind?" "What?" Angel asked. She stood on one leg, gaping at him in disbelief. Lance had seen her practically naked and he wanted her to turn her back? Soaking wet, she grappled to pull her jeans over her thighs. She scoffed at the insult that he actually believed she'd get any kind of thrill from seeing him naked. "I've seen a penis before." "But, it wasn't mine," Lance said innocently. To his surprise, Angel turned her back, completely ignoring him as she wiggled and shimmied, trying to work her jeans over her hips. He bit back a curse at the cold and the sight of her bent at the waist, hips undulating as she battled with the denim. Luckily though, the slap of frigid air against his wet skin thoroughly cured his wayward penis problems. Poor guy would never be the same and he'd probably never come out of hiding. Particles of fresh snow wafted down from the black sky and landed on the tips of his eyelashes. The wind picked up speed and rattled the trees. It was going to be a long, miserable walk back to the compound. Lance scrabbled for his clothes and covered his dangly bits with his wadded up leathers while dragging his jacket over his damp shoulders. The leather was uncomfortably cold and stiff from where it had laid on the ground. He eyed the cabin. The brothers always had firewood on the grate ready to be lit. There were piles of soft, warm blankets inside. And it was private. He ground his fangs at the thought of Angel naked under one of Leigh's handmade quilts. Naked. Alone. With Angel cozied up beside him in front of a roaring fire. Good. No bad. He just wanted the chance to get to know her better, not screw her. Although...screwing wasn't a bad thought either. Drawing on his acting skills, he cast an expression so pitiful and pathetic on his face, like that of a whipped puppy. Not even she would be able to refuse. "C...c...cold...inside...please," he wheezed. "Ffffff...reezing." Angel had given up on attempting to pull on her clothes over her wet skin. She wasn't sure but she thought ice crystals dangled from the ends of her hair. Lance...God, had there ever been a more pitiful sight than him? Mostly naked, wearing nothing but his jacket and a frown, he shivered from head to toe. His fingers clutched a rumpled pair of leathers to his groin. Ok, so she was curious about his current level of shrinkage. But, she appreciated his gesture. Every muscle on him bugled from the effort of generating body heat. His pale hair was plastered to his scalp and stiff with frost. And his face, he had the most pathetic, sad puppy dog expression she'd ever seen in her life. It was cold. And the compound was a long walk. The snow fell faster coating the ground in a soft blanket of white. Snowflakes dangled from the ends of his hair and clung to the tip of his nose. She would love to ask him whatever had possessed him to jump into a freezing lake. But, if she did, no doubt she'd have to come up with some answers of her own. The cabin was a dark, forlorn place in the middle of nowhere. It was probably just as cold in there as it was out here. At least, the cabin would provide some shelter till the snow stopped falling. And maybe, they'd get lucky enough to find some dry clothes stashed inside. "We don't have a key." Lance saw the doubt and hesitation in Angel's eyes. Nervously, she bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. A habit he thought was absolutely adorable. She wasn't buying his act for a minute. And he'd end up tromping through the woods hard and aching, half frozen, and worst of all, alone. "Under the mat," he rasped gesturing with his chin toward the front porch. Pouring a bit more into his performance, he coughed and groaned, chattering his teeth as he shook from head to toe. Under the mat? Really? Who did that? Angel rolled her eyes at the rampant stupidity of the brothers. They might as well not bother locking the door at all. Shaking her head at him, she stormed up the walk toward the cabin. Bending to feel under the mat frozen in place to the wooden planks of the front porch, the key was exactly where he said it was. Angel scraped her nails against the ice and pried the key free. Lance grinned as Angel palmed the key and stood to slide it into the lock. He was already imagining a toasty warm roaring fire and a soft blanket with nobody else but the two of them. They'd be stuck here for hours while their clothes dried in font of the fireplace. Either that, or he'd be wearing an old pair of John Mark's Bermuda shorts home. "So cold...I can't stand it," he groaned. Leaning against the porch post, he whimpered piteously. Lance was making her nervous. Her fingers trembled with frustration. He was crowding her space. Looming over her. And breathing down the back of her neck. She finally managed to wiggle the key into the lock and open the door. She reached behind her and towed Lance inside slamming the door behind him. Her suspicions were correct. It was just as cold in here as it was outside. For her, it was worse inside than outside. The cabin was small and close. So dark, thanks to the shutters closed over the windows even with her superior night vision, she had difficulty seeing. Panic settled in clouding her judgment. Slowly, she backed toward the door, her fingers settling over the knob. He was losing her. What did she think he was some kind of a rapist? He would not lay a finger on her, not that the thought wasn't in his mind. But, never like that, out of force. He mainly wanted to talk. Get into that psyche of hers and figure her out. "There's a flashlight on the mantle and some matches. Make a fire...get warm," he gritted out between his chattering fangs. Angel's eyes widened as she spotted the flashlight. "Oh," she mumbled in embarrassment. She was a damned vampire, not a scared little girl afraid of the dark. Fumbling with the flashlight she managed to turn it on and find the box of matches on the mantle. Exactly what did he want her to do? She was not a frigging girl scout. She had no idea of how to start a fire. "Um?" Lance groaned, inwardly grimacing at the way Angel toyed with the box of matches. He really was going to freeze to death. She showed no outward signs that the cold affected her at all. The very least she could do was manage a decent shiver or two. Maybe, a tooth chatter for good measure. "Fire is ready to go, just light a match and put it to the kindling. And for crying out loud, hurry." Angel didn't appreciate Lance's tone. He could just save her the trouble and light the fire himself. But, in order to do that he'd have to drop the clothes clutched so protectively to his groin. But, if he did that, he'd most likely embarrass them both. She flicked off the flashlight and set the box of matches on the mantle. It wasn't like he was going to freeze to death. If it had been that easy to kill Roark she would have done it herself. "Angel, please. I'm freezing. I'd do it myself, but my fingers are so stiff and I'm shaking all over. Just catch the newspaper under the logs on fire with the match. Please." Was Angel part polar bear or what? Standing there, clad in nothing but her damp jeans and a bra, she stared at him incredulously. She had to be just as cold as he was. But, it was almost like she relished the painful chill in the air. He hazarded a glance at his toes and counted. Yup, he still had all ten of them. But, if she didn't step it up, he might not. "Please, please, please." Maybe it was the last please, practically whimpered from Lance's lips that softened her to him. She flicked the flashlight on and crouched at the fireplace. There was what she assumed was firewood and kindling on the grate. Wadded up rolls of newspaper were stuck at odd angles here and there. She glared up at Lance and bent her head to study the box of matches. There was no way in hell she was going to admit she'd never lit a match before. Awkwardly balancing the box in her palm, she took out a match and dragged it across the cover. Of course, it didn't light. Hadn't these people heard of Bic lighters for god's sake? "Try again," Lance said. Angel hesitated and turned her attention back to the matches. It couldn't be that difficult. On the second attempt, the match flared to life. Quickly, before the flame could burn out, she dropped the lit match onto the newspaper. Watching in fascination as the paper burned and caught the dry wood stacked on the grate on fire. "Thank God," Lance said, breathing out a grateful sigh of relief. Careful not to show his man junk, he knelt beside her to warm his hands at the fire's meager flame. It would take a few minutes before they had a decent fire and actual heat. He caught her eyeing him out of the corner of his eye in suspicion. "You did good. Thank you." "Are you ok?" Angel asked out of concern. Her meager attempt at a fire wasn't much. But, it was burning and the cabin was starting to get a few degrees warmer. The ice crystals from his hair melted and rolled in tiny rivulets down his neck. Timidly, she reached out a fingertip to wipe them away. The firelight glistened in the drops of moisture on his cheek. He crouched next to her, concentrating on warming his frozen hands. Angel became very aware of how close to naked he was and the closeness of him. She tried to put it out of her mind, the bareness of his flesh, the pitch and roll of his muscles as they quivered, and the way his wet hair clung to his hard jaw. Even his scent, fresh and spicy as it blended with the wood smoke and the lingering essence of lost summers past, was a temptation and terrifying. "Better," Lance answered, rubbing his hands together to generate more heat and thaw his frozen skin. "My clothes are soaked from the snow. So are yours. We'll have to dry them by the fire. Once it really gets going. There are some blankets over there on the bed. Somehow, I feel a little exposed," he said, glancing down at his bare thighs and the heap of wet clothes gathered in his lap and back up to her. Angel glanced down at her own state of undress. Wearing nothing but her wet bra, which clung to her erect nipples and a pair of jeans equally soaked and stuck to her like a second skin, she blushed furiously. She swore the room was suddenly a balmy ninety degrees from the heat in his stare alone. "Oh," she mumbled. Forcing her gaze from his bare muscular chest, she saw what he meant. She wasn't the only one tempted. They were both practically naked, alone in an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. He had a point. "We're not going to think of each other like that. Its just skin," she said as she self-consciously rose to her feet and went to grab the blankets. "Ok." Lance bit back a chuckle at Angel's chagrin. Just skin? Right. Not think of her like that? How was he supposed to do that when her skin was all he could think about? He focused on the flickering flames instead of the sound of her zipper and the rustle of cloth as she peeled off her damp jeans and stepped free of them. The whisper of wet silk against her 'just skin' as she removed her bra and panties was torture. He exhaled and bit the inside of his cheek to keep his imagination from going wild with rampant thoughts of her naked. He was so hard for her it hurt. Adjusting the pile covering his groin, he hid what she did to him from her sight. Despite what she had to tell herself to trust him enough to get naked and his shrinkage from the cold, he had it where it counted in abundance. Painfully so. She'd bolt and he knew it. He couldn't afford to undo the fragile trust she had in him by exposing how deeply her nearness effected him. Angel had to tell herself all kinds of lies to manage the courage to peel off her clothes and wrap up in the quilt she'd pulled off the end of the bed. The quilt, made from bits and pieces of fabric was soft and cool against her skin. Smelling of bright sunny days and crisp fall nights, the scent of the blanket reminded her of the home and the happy family she'd never had. Lance would not hurt her. He would never force her to do anything she didn't want to do. She knew that. Imaging him with the world's tiniest penis was a trick of her mind. It wasn't true. She'd caught enough of a glimpse of him to know better than that. If she were a different woman, whole and free, she might be able to appreciate how gifted he was in that department. As it was, she was terrified to endure a simple touch without the fear of her mind taking her back to places she didn't want to go. Emerging from behind the screen wrapped in nothing but a blanket, clutched tightly in her fist, Angel evaded Lance's stare as she worked to drape her clothes over the mantle. After she'd finished arranging her clothes to dry, she handed him a folded blanket and forced her eyes away from his. He thanked her and shrugged out of his jacket. Draping the colorful afghan over his muscular body, he tugged the wad of wet leather and cloth from underneath and stretched it on the hearth to dry. She was painfully aware that Lance was as naked underneath his blanket as she was under hers. Lance settled back on the floor, resting his arm casually across his bent knee. Tilting his head, he studied her expression. Angel curled up, tucking her feet underneath her butt as she sat on the floor next to him to share the warmth from the fireplace. She toyed with the braided rug on the floor. Focusing on the rainbow of colors and the feel of the different textures against her fingertips. The rug was incredibly soft. "It's only skin," she whispered. "Exactly," Lance replied. He didn't believe it was only skin. He didn't believe that she believed that either. He kept his distance, sitting on the border of the rug, watching her delicate fingertips skate over the colors and textures. Ducking his head to meet her gaze, he said what she needed to hear and what he needed to say to earn her trust. He was not Roark. He would never take advantage of her. Hurt her in any way. And he would never touch her without her permission. He meant the words as he said them with the sincerity of a promise. "It is only skin." Chapter 7 Lance had one endearing quality above all others. It was the thing Angel appreciated the most about him. He never filled the empty spaces with small talk. Around him, she never had to be...anything except herself. Sitting on the braded rug with her knees tucked under her chin and the warmth of the fire caressing her cheeks. Being with him was easy. "I wasn't expecting an audience," she mumbled. Lance barked in a chuckle. Angel was slowly coming around, shyly inching closer to him. She probably didn't realize only a few scant centimeters and two blankets were all that separated them. And he sure as hell wasn't about to point it out. He sat on the floor, letting the warmth of the fire and of her presence soak into his skin. Stretching out his long legs, his toes poked out from beneath the blanket. Idly, he wiggled his toes and sighed in contentment. "I wasn't exactly expecting to go skinny dipping in the middle of March either," he teased. He shivered over exaggeratedly. "I don't think I've ever been so cold." Angel snickered at his playful shivering. "You're such a wimp," she chastised. "It wasn't that cold." The laugh she'd bit back escaped her lips as he pinned her with a raised dark brow, contradicting her perception of cold. Shifting beneath the covers, she scooted closer, and sat with her toes tucked firmly under her butt, facing him. "Ok, so it was a little chilly," she conceded with a shrug. "A little?" Lance tsked. He shivered and tugged his blanket up underneath his chin to prove his point. Lance was careful to hide certain things from Angel. Primarily, the obviousness of his erection poking up, like a damned flagpole beneath the covers. With the way Angel looked everywhere but at him, it wasn't that hard to camouflage his interest in her. 'You don't have to answer me. But, can I ask what you were doing out there?" Um no, not really, she countered, keeping her thoughts to herself. How would she ever explain the need that had driven her into the freezing water? Toying with the edge of the hand-sewn quilt, she refused to meet his eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth in them. She had no answer for his question that wouldn't condemn herself and most likely end up with a trip to the brotherhood's version of a shrink. To throw him off, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I'd rather not say."