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Dawn's Second Chance

By: msnomer68



Native Dawn Series: book 6. Rogue Dawn book 2: Alex and Chance's story

Dawn's Second Chance

 By: J. Lynn Scott

Chapter 1

The meeting was intense and heated. Both sides argued back and forth in relentless debate, unable to come to agreement. Some felt the rogue threat should be immediately neutralized. The rogues hunted down and vengeance served swiftly. While others wanted time to weigh all options before deciding on a course of action. Both sides looked at Alex with anticipation, waiting for answers. 

Alex nervously shifted in her seat and dragged her fingers through her hair. A totally frustrated gesture brought on by the weight of the many sets of eyes boring down on her. She had nothing else to tell them. The vision their Goddess had given her served its purpose. She'd saved Dane's life. She couldn't turn it on and off, no matter how desperately the brothers needed her to. Her gift didn't work like that. The brothers treated her with careful, respectful reverence, and even some measure of trepidation, weary of her talent. "I'm sorry," she said, staring down at the table's sleek wood grain surface to avoid their stares. "I don't have anything else for you." 

Alex left the meeting and paced the halls, ignoring the echoing voices of the brothers and their questions rattling in an endless stream through her mind. She couldn't control what the Goddess, Kokumthena, chose to show her. She was only grateful that she had gotten to Dane in time. Locking herself in her suite, she turned on the TV loudly, hoping to drown out the chatter in her head. Praying another vision would come, one that would give them the answers they so desperately sought.

Marcus knew his situation was precarious. The trust the brothers had in him was waning. Since the attack, he'd been forced to wear the tracking device again. It wasn't fair. He wasn't the one who'd tried to shoot their leader, Dane. But nonetheless, he was paying for Neil's act of stupidity. Who could blame them? The Sons had plenty to protect and plenty of reasons not to trust outsiders. And Neil had made sure to prove their paranoia was justified.

He thought back to the blustery late November night when he and Neil had stumbled across the nest. At the time, he hadn't thought much about it. Deciding to steer clear, he'd led Candace away from the rogues, leaving Neil to be the diplomat. It seemed Neil had more than diplomacy on his mind. He was helping the rogues. Acting as a mole and collecting critical bits of information the rogues could use to bring about the Son's demise. Fortunately, for the brothers and especially Dane, Neil got impatient and laid his cards on the table too soon. 

At one time, Marcus had thought of joining the nest. Leaving and heading out, but his love for Candace held him back, binding him to the Sons. When Candace fell back in love with Will, her son's father, Marcus had been devastated. But he loved her then and still did. And he would always be there for her, no matter what. Even though she was now a married woman, it didn't matter. He had a virtual eternity to wait. And as much as he was a bastard for wishing it, he hoped she'd eventually wise up and chose him over Will.

Hesitantly, he raised his voice, interrupting the heated argument. He had an idea. It just might work. He wasn't marked and wasn't technically a member of the Sons. Maybe, he could go to the nest, pretend to be a rogue, earn their trust, and infiltrate their ranks. If it didn't work, his life would be much shorter than he'd anticipated. But, at least he would die serving a cause he believed in. He spoke up, his voice quivering nervously as he explained his plan.

"Absolutely not!" Candace pounded her fist against the wooden table. She wouldn't let Marcus place himself in danger. "The risk is too great," she protested. She sat down in her seat, crossing her arms smugly, thoroughly expecting her new husband and her son to back her.

"Now wait Candy," Will said hesitantly. "Marcus, that is a good idea. You're the only one who can get in. The first thing the rogues will look for is our mark. You just might be on to something." Candace huffed in irritation, annoyed by how quickly he'd changed sides. Will didn't want to piss off his new bride. But, Marcus was the most likely candidate for the job. Marcus was street smart, loyal to the Sons, and a survivor to his very core. If anyone could get in, do what needed to be done, and get out in one piece. It was Marcus. 

Candace's jaw dropped at her husband's defection to Marcus's side. "What about his scent? They're going to know he isn't rogue." She huffed vehemently, "He smells too much like us."

"That's easily fixed," Janine chimed in enthusiastically. "Between Alexander, Leigh, Anna, and myself, we can have him smelling putrid in no time." She ignored the warning growl escaping Patrick's lips, silencing him with a sharp elbow to the ribs. It was time she did something important. It was about time the brothers took her seriously. She was more than just a wedding planner, party organizer, and whirlwind shopper. It was time she stood up and got some recognition for her contribution around here.

Patrick crossed his arms, scowling at Marcus. He was right on board with the plan until Janine piped up. "What are you going to do when the rogues kill? Are you going to join in? Don't you think they'll be suspicious when you don't? Are you going to just stand there and let them do it?" He was certain the questions he threw at Marcus would quash the discussion. There had to be another way. One, that didn't involve Marcus risking his life, or worse, his capture, at the hands of the rogues. Patrick knew first hand what the rogues were capable of. And he would not wish the torture he'd suffered at their hands on anyone. Not even another rogue.

Dane rapped his knuckles on the table, silencing the group. "Marcus, can you pull this off? Can you get in, keep yourself safe, and get out? Can you get the rogues to trust you?"

"I think so. What's the worst that could happen?" Marcus shrugged. He'd seen the worst in the months before Candace led him onto the bluffs. He knew what he was getting into. Slinking into his seat, he winced against Candace's scowl of disapproval. She didn't like the thought of him risking his life and that in itself was enough of a reason for him to do it. 

"The search of Neil's quarters turned up nothing. We don't know what information he may have passed to the rogues. Our sources indicate that the nest is too close to our territory to be ignored any longer. We need to infiltrate, gather intel, and come up with a plan. The last thing we want is another battle." Dane sighed and took his seat at the head of the table. 

Talk of the war between Krios and the Sons left him raw. Months had passed since the rogue's defeat. But, the pain never left him. And the warning still shouted loudly in his mind. It could happen again. "We're not in a position to speculate. This Rogue Master is powerful. Influential. His reach may very well extend past his current location. Kiros and Kore were dangerous because they were bat shit crazy. This son of a bitch is dangerous, because he's not." 

Dane was their leader and his decision was not easily or lightly made. The brothers respected him and trusted him with their lives. "I don't see another way." His glance roamed over the faces gathered around the table, seeking confirmation. He knew the hell and the danger Marcus willingly offered to walk into. Rogues were dangerous, unpredictable, and violent by reputation. Marcus might not come back. Or if Marcus did, it might be too late for him. He could turn rogue and be subject to the highest measure of punishment the Sons had. Death. "All in favor?"

A hush filled the room as heads reluctantly nodded in agreement. None of them wanted to admit it, to see a friend willingly sacrificed for the greater good. But, there didn't seem to be any other way. "Ok," Dane said, nodding his head. The vote was unanimous. Marcus was going in. "Toby take Marcus to the lab and work on setting up communications. John Mark, Patrick, select weaponry for the trip. Robbie, we'll need to use your house. Marcus can stay there until our scent fades. Janine, gather up the donors and meet him there." Assignments delegated, Dane left the group to get busy on carrying out their tasks.

Chapter 2

Alex heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door. But, much like the cacophony of voices in her head, chose to ignore it. Turning up the volume on the TV a few more decibels to drown out the noise. Sooner or later, her visitor would get the hint and leave. She didn't want to talk to anybody. She just wanted to be left alone. The knocking grew louder with the rise in the volume of the plasma screen TV. Insistently and relentlessly, the knocking continued, demanding an answer. With a huff, grumbling under her breath, she turned down the TV and stomped to the door, planning to give her unwanted guest an ear full.

Chance ran his hands nervously through his dark hair and stood waiting outside Alex's door. He knew she was inside. Thanks to his new vampire senses, he could hear her breathing under the din of chatter from the TV. He smiled at the string of obscenities she muttered under her breath as she opened the door to scowl at him. "Hi," he said with a smile in answer to the annoyed glint in her brown eyes. "I thought you'd like to know what happened at the meeting."

"Not particularly," Alex replied, intent on slamming the door in his face, only to find Chance's big foot blocking it open. She glared up at him beyond annoyed with his intrusion. "Do you need something?" she asked through gritted teeth.

True to her redheaded temperament, Alex practically growled at his persistence. Chance stifled the urge to snicker at her fury and leaned casually on the doorjamb. Thanks to a bit of intuition, he'd worn heavy lug soled boots instead of tennis shoes. Otherwise, she would have slammed the door in his face and crushed his foot in the process. Unfettered by her anti-social behavior, he asked, "Can I come in?"

"Are you going to stand out in the hall all day if I say no?" Alex suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at Chance's cocky, slightly crooked grin and the casual way he leaned on the door, coaxing it wider and his way in to her room with his broad shoulders. He was a behemoth of a male. Every inch of his six feet-three, two hundred-twenty pound frame was nothing but lean, powerful muscle. Strands of dark hair dangled into his hazel eyes, softening his thick brows and lending an air of playful boyishness to his chiseled facial features. 

Alex liked Chance better as a human. At least then, she could almost look him in the eye. At five-feet two inches and one hundred-ten pounds, she'd still had to look up to see his face, but not nearly as much. He'd been big then, probably about five feet eleven and a lean one hundred-sixty pounds. A powerhouse of a guy, for a human. Transformed in to his warrior's body, he dwarfed her and made her feel small and helpless. She didn't need his help in that department. 

These days, it was a theme around the compound. Nobody talked about Lucien. Nobody dared to say anything that might upset her. Considering her gift, she was lucky anyone spoke to her at all. They tiptoed around her, terrified that she might catch a glimpse of their future. What happened with Dane was a fluke. She spent most of her days translating ancient scrolls and cataloging relics from other places and times. Even her best friend, Janine, treaded lightly in her presence; when she wasn't busy trying to give her a makeover, fashion advice, or for all her good intentions, butting in on her life. 

Chance was different. Laughable really, in that big body he had yet to adapt to. Clumsily tripping over his big feet. Always tangled up in his long limbs. Accidentally breaking things when he failed to realize his strength. He reminded her of a big, playful puppy that didn't realize one day he would grow into a ferocious dog. 

Chance grinned at Alex's question. Everyone in the compound viewed him with a fair measure of awe. Constantly referring to him as 'Will's Son' as if possessing half of his father's DNA was something mystical and profound. Perhaps, to the brothers, it was. But, he hated being looked at, treated differently, because of it. Alex was one of the few living in the compound that saw him for who he truly was. Just Chance. Not 'Will's Son'. "Probably," he answered sheepishly. He stepped under the threshold and tried like hell not to trip over his big feet and face plant into her carpet as she begrudgingly motioned him inside. "Thanks." 

"Is there a purpose to your visit or is this just a social call?" Alex asked in the snarkiest tone she could muster. Undeterred and very much unwelcome, Chance flopped down on the loveseat and stretched out his long legs, making himself at home and planting his heavy, booted feet on her coffee table. The wood groaned beneath the strain. Irritated by his invasion of her space, she pushed his boots off the coffee table, glared at him, and took a seat on the couch beside him. Resentful of his intrusion, she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her mouth shut. Chance was unusually intuitive for a guy and the sooner he realized that she didn't want company, the sooner he'd leave. 

"You seem kind of tense. Want to talk about it?" Chance asked, opening the door for conversation. He knew she didn't want him here. She'd made that all too apparent in the way she stared down at the carpet and refused to look at him. Her lips were drawn tight in a pout. And her arms crossed over her chest, blocking him with her body language. But, she needed to talk to someone. If he waited her out, eventually, she'd talk. 

"No," Alex replied in a huff. "It's just that everyone keeps looking at me like they expect me to do cheap parlor tricks or pull a crystal ball out of my ass and tell the future. I'm a vampire, not a psychic." She sighed, glad for the chance to vent and wrapped her arms around a throw pillow, nervously fingering the tassels with the tips of her fingers. "I don't know what they expect me to do."

"Hey, no one expects anything from you. They understand. Everyone is grateful that you were able to save Dane. They're just scared is all. They're grasping for any reassurances they can find," Chance replied, gently easing the pillow out of Alex's hands. "It's ok. You're putting too much pressure on yourself."

Alex sighed and fought back a snivel. "I guess. But, I feel like I'm letting everyone down." She dropped her head, resting her face in her cool palms, bent on hiding the frustrated tears welling in her eyes from Chance. 

"No you're not letting anybody down." Chance smoothed back Alex's crimson waves and gently tucked them behind her ear. Tempted by the soft silky texture of her hair, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and rested it on his lap. 

"I'm glad you think so," Alex said.

"I do. And I'd kick anyone's ass that said anything to the contrary." 

"I know you would." Alex grinned through her fingers at Chance. Looking up to return his smile. She was feeling better now. Chance always seemed to be able to chase away her feelings of doubt. And she'd come to partially rely on him to know when she needed pulled out of her deepest emotional muck. Janine was a girl friend. But, sometimes girl power wasn't enough. Sometimes, a girl needed a guy friend. And Chance was exactly what she needed. 

"Now, that's what I want to see," Chance said. Lightly tracing the outline of her lips with his finger, he pushed the corners of her mouth up into a full, dazzling smile. 

Alex closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the warmth of his fingertip against her lips. Quickly, she shook off the spark of something more hidden beneath the guise of friendship. He was her friend and nothing more. "Let's go hunt," she said, jumping up from the couch. All of a sudden, having him in her room invading her space was way too intimate and awkward, bordering on uncomfortable.

"I thought you'd never ask," Chance said, following Alex out of her room. He could still feel the softness of her lips on his fingertip. He pushed the glimmer he'd seen in her eyes far from his mind. She wasn't interested in him. Not like that. She'd made it perfectly clear. They were friends and nothing more. Good friends were hard to come by. And he valued Alex enough not to risk their friendship for anything more. No matter how badly he wanted it. How often the thought kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling in longing. He'd patiently wait. Be there for her. And hope for the day when her heart finally healed and she was ready for more. 

 Chapter 3

"Janine," Patrick said with stern determination. He blocked the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, effectively trapping her in the room. Damn it, he'd make her listen to reason one way or another. What she'd proposed to do was insane and unnecessary. And by god, he was not going to hear any more talk of her giving her wrist to Marcus. "You're not going to let him feed off you." 

"It's my body and I'll do with it what I want," Janine huffed furiously as she tried to push her way around Patrick's body. The male stayed stubbornly rooted in the spot and refused to let her pass. "You don't have a say so."

Patrick grumbled intelligible words under his breath and ground his molars in irritation, trying desperately to keep his anger at bay. Janine was his girl, all five feet two inches- one hundred and ten pounds of her, irrevocably his. How could she even consider allowing another man at her wrist? Her blue eyes flashed in outrage at his refusal to let her pass. Stubbornly, she pursed her petal pink lips and glared up at him. "What's been going on with you lately?" he asked, softening his tone.

Janine looked at Patrick in disbelief. He didn't get it, did he? "I'm tired of hanging around here like an ornament. I want to prove my value." She puffed out her chest in defiance. "I want to be taken seriously for once." 

"An ornament?" Patrick stammered in disbelief. Taken aback he blinked at her unsure of what to say. The words rankled him. Did she really think so little of herself? Life here at the compound would be very dull without her around. His life would be hardly worth living without her to spark things up. He was very close to begging her not to do it. His skin crawled at the thought of Marcus taking from her, at the thought of anyone taking from her. Why would she think she had to do something so drastic to prove her worth? "I do take you seriously."

"Well then, get out of the way and let me do my duty." Patrick stood in the doorway dumbfounded, fishlipping and staring at her as if she'd said something at least everyone hadn't thought about her a time or two. She did nothing of value except sit around and look pretty. She didn't work. She didn't have a home of her own. She barely had two nickels to rub together. He provided for her. The brothers put the roof over her head. And any money she spent came from their seemingly bottomless accounts. There was no way she could back down on her word. She would allow Marcus to feed from her. Her blood was the only thing of real value she had to give. And she would do it, without doubt or hesitation.

"At least let me come with you," Patrick pled softly. He hadn't considered how things seemed from her point of view. She didn't have much that was actually hers. Everything was provided for her. Janine had access to more money than even she could spend in a dozen lifetimes. She could buy anything she wanted. In his time, a woman would have been thrilled to be taken care of in such a manner. He'd never thought she might not be happy living that way. But, he could see it now. How carefully she'd hidden the truth of her unhappiness beneath her bubbly, flamboyant exterior. She wanted more than his money could buy. And her deepest desires were more expensive than anything he could ever afford. 


Dawn's Second Chance



"Fine," Janine huffed. She elbowed her way around Patrick with her chin thrust out in hard determination as she walked out into the hallway. She didn't care if he watched or not. This was a business, not pleasure. She hadn't given her blood to anyone but Patrick in so long, she wasn't sure how it would feel. But, if this was the only way she could prove her worth, by bleeding for the brothers, she had to do it. Not for Marcus,

for herself.

*****

"Ok, you're wired up." Toby went over how to use the variety of electronic devices he'd supplied to Marcus. "Cell phone with text and internet connections, night vision binoculars, lipstick drive, audio, and camera." He gently snapped the cases closed and gave his 'babies' a loving caress as he handed the cases to Marcus. "Good luck buddy." 

John Mark loaded Marcus to the hilt with weaponry, swords, daggers, and handguns. "You sure you know use these?" he asked doubtfully. Marcus was no warrior. He could barely hunt well enough to feed himself. He'd probably be more likely to blow his head off with a gun rather than take out the enemy. But, time was of the essence. The brothers were counting on Marcus to do what they could not. Be inconspicuous. 

"I'll figure it out," Marcus replied, tucking a wicked looking dagger into his boot. Careful not to give too much about his past away, he gingerly took the bag out of John Mark's hands and set it on the floor at his feet. Marcus knew his weapons as well as he knew his bullshit. He just preferred bullshit to blades and bullets. 

John Mark handed Marcus another package, carefully placing it into his hands. "What's this?" he asked.

Marcus balanced the weight of the package in his palm with a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Gently, he tucked the explosives into the black knapsack at his feet. "Oh, you just never know what might come in handy."

Chapter 4

"Hi," Janine said, shifting nervously on the couch. She'd won her argument with Patrick. And at the time, embroiled in the safety of the idea, it sounded like a good idea. Here, faced with Marcus, the idea not so much an idea, but real. She wasn't so sure. He stood in the doorway toting black duffel bags and shiny cases of equipment. "Could you put the weapons upstairs please?" She was proficient with a gun. Thanks to hours of practice. But, she'd never managed to achieve the brothers' level of nonchalance around them, or any other weapon, for that matter. Marcus met her nervous fidgeting with an easy smile and trudged through the living room to the stairway. "I left a clean set of clothes up there for you," she called after him. 

"No problem," Marcus said, shrugging as he climbed the staircase to the second story. The house was simple, homey and comfortable. A place filled with happy memories and plenty of love. The kind of place he'd never known or had been fortunate enough to call home. He took a minute, snooping casually through the upstairs room, stashing the cases and the bulging duffel bag in a small bedroom to the right of the stairway.

He always wondered who the Sons were before. He ran his finger along the dusty paperbacks on the shelves and picked up a picture frame sitting on the dresser. A very young Robbie and much thinner, pimple faced John Mark smiled at him from the snapshot. He wiped a fine coating of dust off the glass and set the picture down where he'd found it. Some couples, he guessed, were destined to be together. Not that he'd know a damned thing about that either. 

Despite the months of sitting idle and the years that had passed since the picture had been taken, the room still smelled of youth, like sweet bubble gum scented innocence. God, had he ever been that young or that innocent? Probably not. Life was different for him than it had been for Robbie and John Mark. Even from the very beginning, his plate was just shy of a full meal. And he'd spent everyday scrabbling for his portion. 

The clothes Janine left for him sat in a neatly folded pile on the edge of the bed. He couldn't figure her out. Why was she here nervously contemplating offering her wrist to him? The vampire in him didn't give a shit about her trepidation. She should be afraid. A little fear was good for the soul. And she should be damn afraid of the thing inside of him. God knew, he was. Finding the bathroom, he showered and changed, stuffing his used clothes into a plastic bag and tying it tightly closed. 

Janine heard the light tread of Marcus's footsteps on the stairs. She couldn't back out now. She swallowed back her nervousness, knowing Patrick was close by watching. She didn't want him to pick up on her emotions and rush in to save the day. She didn't need saving. She needed to do her job and prove her worth. Marcus did his best to look innocuously human. But, he moved with a predator's grace. Stalking closer, so filled with power and danger, the air around her was thick and hard to breathe. "Toss your bag on the front porch and I'll take it with me when I go," she said with as much fake cheer and confidence as she could muster.

Marcus took the empty seat beside her and stretched his legs. A completely human gesture totally lost on her. Nervously, she shifted on the couch to make room for him. The space between them eased her discomfort. But, it was completely a symbolic gesture. In a few moments, he'd share more than a couple of cushions on the couch with her. He'd be in her head, invading the privacy of her mind. At least, for a little while, till another donor took her place. 

She wasn't worried about what he'd uncover in the depths of her mind. Marcus was a man who knew how to keep secrets. After all, he'd been keeping the biggest one of them all since the day he'd met Candace. An idiot could see, hidden beneath the guise of friendship and the role of protector, how deeply he loved her. And how much it'd hurt him to let her go. 

Janine trusted Marcus. He wouldn't run to Patrick to tattle what she so carefully hid. Besides, Patrick already knew the truth of her heart. He just chose to ignore it. He had a strict philosophy. He didn't fix what wasn't broken until it was broken. And he wouldn't lift a finger to fix her until she completely broke. Janine felt compelled to warn Marcus. "Patrick is close by."

"Yeah, I get it." Patrick was possessive of Janine. He didn't want to share her. Marcus could understand why. Janine was ultra feminine and wasn't shy to show her figure. Those curves were more dangerous than driving a sidewinder at ninety miles and hour. Her cherubic face surrounded by golden ringlets, were something straight off of an artist's canvas. Any red-blooded male could spend a lifetime exploring her and forget the most basic functions, such as eating and breathing. A guy could lose himself in those big blue eyes of hers. Happily drown and die in their azure depths, and thank her for the privilege. "Are you certain you want to do this?"

"Don't be such a baby," Janine scoffed with an exaggerated wave of her hand. "Yes, I'm sure." She shuffled her feet uncomfortably and avoided Marcus's green eyes. Marcus knew a lot more than he let on. He could see her on some level that Patrick could not. Marcus knew the truth of what she hid, her fear, her trepidation, and knew the reasons why she had to do this. And he didn't need a vampire blood link to do it. 

Marcus caught Janine's gaze and held it. Focusing his energy, he willed her lids to fall. At first, he wasn't sure it was going to work, and then she eased back, her lids fluttering shut as a sigh escaped her plump lips. He thought, if he ever got over Candace, if he could fall in love again, it might be with someone like Janine. 

Beneath her rampant consumerism, angelic good looks, and bubbly, almost overwhelming, personality, she was fragile. She wanted so much and settled for far too little, because she was brave, because she loved someone who might not have the capacity to see beyond himself and his pain, to love her in return. Patrick was selfish, a fool. And someday, Janine would have to face the hard truth. Either she'd spend her life clinging to a dream or she'd have to move on. Forget him. 

Marcus didn't envy her. He didn't envy Patrick. And he'd never, ever betray what he saw beneath the layers of designer clothes and expensive, expertly applied makeup. He hadn't tasted her blood yet. And he already knew. Already saw what Janine so desperately hid. It was the same thing he hid. Desire for someone you couldn't truly have and wanted more desperately than life itself. Taking her delicate wrist in his fingers, he bit He glanced around hesitantly, seeing no sign of Patrick, he bit down filling his mouth with her sweet taste. 

Patrick stood on the sidewalk, scrabbling desperately not to come unhinged at the thought of Marcus's lips on Janine. Not daring to go any closer to the house. He wasn't sure he could control his temper. He knew the instant Marcus drove his fangs through Janine's skin. Felt the first pull of blood he took from her wrist. Patrick stood helplessly on the sidewalk, waiting. "Damn," he hissed between clenched teeth. He wanted nothing more than to burst through the door and rip Janine from Marcus's arms. But, if he did, not only would he contaminate the air with his scent and endanger the mission, he'd risk his relationship with her. 

For some reason, he could not comprehend, but vaguely understood, and most definitely did not agree with. Janine felt compelled to do her part for the cause. No one expected it of her. No one would ever ask it of her. Yet, she offered her wrist to prove a point. Sometimes, it seemed she delighted in doing things deliberately for no other reason than to piss him off. And he was livid beneath his cool façade of indifference. 

Damned if he could figure her out. But, he sensed, hidden by her bubbly exuberance, she hurt. And he was the cause. He'd rather fight a dozen rogues than deal with an emotional entanglement. 

Their relationship worked. For whatever reason, she saw something in him that he would never see in himself and kept hanging on. At first, he'd fought her. And then, he'd pushed her away. She'd finally worn him down, and, in bitter surrender, he'd given in. He cared for her. He loved her as much as he could. Maybe in time, he'd be able to give more. Do more. Love more. If he could see past what she did in the living room with Marcus. If he could ever see beyond the basic fact of what kept them apart. Her humanity. Her fragility. Her mortality. It wasn't right to ask her to give her life for the sake of keeping her around. And it wasn't fair for him to love her. When in the end, he'd have to let her go. 

"Easy buddy," John Mark said. He sauntered up the sidewalk and stopped to give the seething vampire a reassuring clap on the back. "It's alright. Janine knows what she's doing."

Patrick hissed, glaring at John Mark. "What are you doing here?" He'd been so focused on Janine, monitoring her fluttering heartbeat through the plaster walls and brick exterior of Robbie's house, he hadn't heard John Mark sneak up on him.

"Damage control," John Mark replied. "Making sure you don't get a wild hair up your ass and decide to inflict some major injuries on our boy in there." 

"I wouldn't do that," Patrick retorted indignantly. 

"Good, I wasn't in the mood to fight you tonight." Patrick was a wiry son of a bitch, small, compact, and a hell of a handful in a fight. His size made him easy to underestimate. At five-ten and one hundred sixty pounds, he was smaller than most of the brothers. But, he was no less lethal. Lightening fast. And the best tracker John Mark had ever had the privilege of knowing. 

It was easy to forget that beneath Patrick's deceptively youthful appearance, he was decades older than him. Only when one took the time to really see him, to look into the green eyes, seething with male possessiveness. Did one notice Patrick's true age. Patrick's eyes were the windows to his soul. And he'd seen more than one lifetime's worth of horror. 

Patrick looked up as the front door opened and Marcus carried Janine, dazed from his spell, gently positioning her on the porch swing. If not for John Mark's restraining hand on his bicep, he would have gone after Marcus and torn him limb from limb. Perhaps, Marcus hadn't seen him or didn't hear the warning growl of masculine possessiveness rumbling in his chest at the liberty Marcus had taken with Janine. A gentle, probably harmless gesture, so simple and so tender it sent Patrick bristling with aggression. The bastard paused after setting her down and moved a lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek, taking the briefest of moments to rub the silky strands between his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. 

There was a brief unspoken exchange between Patrick and Marcus, one that had John Mark reaching for Patrick to restrain the man. Marcus's look was simple to interpret, a warning to Patrick. A challenge. Patrick better take care of his female. And the warning growl Patrick had issued in response was equally filled with the promise of pain. Janine was his. The last thing the brothers needed was these two going at it like a couple of junkyard dogs warring over turf rights. John Mark stepped between the two males and shut them down with the authority of his command. 

Marcus slipped silently into the house and locked the door behind him. As if a locked door would stop Patrick if he decided he wanted a piece of him. Patrick got his unspoken message loud and clear. And hadn't that been his intention? Do the guy a favor and clue him in before he lost the girl for good. Maybe, he shouldn't have bothered. Patrick obviously hadn't appreciated the favor. 

He heard the heavy fall of boots on the porch and the soft groan of the swing as Patrick scooped Janine up in his arms. Marcus moved to a window and watched Patrick carry Janine to an idling SUV parked along the curb. He slid John Mark a look through the parted lace curtains. John Mark acknowledged him with a subtle, but very meaningful nod. John Mark got it and he wanted to make sure he got it too. Keep out of things that weren't his business. 

Chapter 5

Alex raced along beside Chance. Forgetting her worries as dark columns of bark zipped past the periphery of her vision. Gathering her strength she released her coiled muscles, leaping onto his back and sending him sprawling into a soft heap of mud with a heavy thwack. "Did you fall down and get all dirty?" she teased. Ever since that day in the gym over a month ago, she'd been looking for ways to get even with him for showing her up on the mat. He'd been human at the time. Beating him with her superior strength and agility should have been easy. She'd grossly underestimated him and he'd given her a thorough lesson in humiliation. 

Chance shifted his weight, throwing Alex off balance. Sending her flying off his back, her body landed in the mud beside him with a splat and spray of muddy, icy droplets. "Did you fall down and get all dirty?" he mimicked her mocking tone. Smirking at her indignation and the smear of mud across her cheek. 

The worst of winter slowly yielded to the rebirth of spring. The early March rains transformed the woods into a boggy, slick, muddy swamp. Buds bursting with new life clung to the branches of the stark, skeletal trees overhead. Cool air nipped, sweet and filled with the promise of change nipped at Alex's cheeks. For a minute, she forgot her pain and let her heart beat and her lungs expand with joy. 

Laughing, she scooped up a handful of soft, squishy water logged earth in her fingers and lobbed the soggy mess at Chance's head. He ducked in a lightening fast move she wouldn't have been able to track, if she were still human and countered, catching her off guard. Mud rolled in cool, moist dribbles down her cheek and dripped in heavy drops off her chin. Narrowing her eyes in pretend annoyance, she flicked the mud off her cheek and leapt to her feet. 

Chance stalked Alex, clutching a handful of dripping wet earth in his grasp. She could do indignant like no one else he'd ever met. She was only pretending to be offended by the mud. He saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Threatening to break free from the perpetual cover of her frown, like the promise of sunlight stifled by a thick layer of steel gray storm clouds. "You're really dirty," he teased, tucking his hand behind his back and the mud ball from her view.

Alex shook out her jacket, sending a fine spray of water and debris into the air. "I'm not so dirty," she retorted defensively. She was too busy shaking mud free from the ends of her hair to notice what Chance was up to or what he held in his hands behind his back. 

At almost thirty, she was too old to be playing in the woods. Too old and too disciplined for mud fights with a guy, no, a kid, eight years her junior. Too old for the attraction she felt blooming under the guise of having a little fun. She was not one of those women who stalked younger guys. Hell, she didn't stalk any guys, young or old. She didn't have time for the entanglements of relationships or their eventual painful end.

Chance was a warrior, his feet set on a path of sacrifice and battle. She hurt for him and for his choice. He was too young, still too human despite his vampire conversion, to understand what waited for him at the end of his road. His fate. To die like Lucien had, alone and defeated by the only enemy he could not conquer on a blood soaked battlefield. Fate. She felt the cold, wet, slick thwack of a mud ball explode on the back of her head. 

"You are now!" Chance teased. He'd give a dollar to have a camera and snap a picture of the shy smile of sheer joy on her face. She was so beautiful when she let herself be. When she wasn't frowning and doing her damnedest to keep him at arms length. He didn't care that she was older. Age had kind of ceased to matter since the hands of the clock stopped rushing forward. Time was of no circumstance when Alex and he had an endless supply of it to waste. 

He had no idea what her beef was with him. Something caused her to keep her distance. Prevented her from getting as close to him as he wished they could be. She'd tried, without being too overly obvious, to convince him to reconsider following in his father's footsteps and becoming a warrior. 

The brothers needed warriors, good ones devoted to the cause, especially with the threat of the rogues looming over their heads. He'd never understood why she had been so reluctant. Why her eyes filled with dread and fear when he'd told her about his decision. She gave him the cold shoulder before he'd decided. Afterwards, she'd frozen him out completely. It was in rare times, like today, when she let her guard down and allowed him the pleasure of her company without reservation or hesitancy. They were friends, damn it. And they could be so much more, if she'd give him a chance. 

Running at top speed for the cover in the pines, Chance ducked the mud ball aimed for the back of his scalp. The pendant around his neck, a gift from Alex, was cool and heavy against his throat. She'd given him so much more than just a bauble made of silver and turquoise dangling from a worn leather strap. She'd gifted him with something of more worth than the value of the smooth, sleek stones and shiny metal. A piece of herself, of her broken dreams, and her shattered hopes, to hold, to wear on the sweat stained and weathered strap around his neck. She'd said, on the day of his final trial, the pendant would bring him luck. It brought him so much more than that. It brought him her.

He wanted to hate the man Alex stubbornly refused to let go of. But, Chance couldn't bring himself to do it. Lucien was a ghost. A disembodied memory of a love so deep and so big it swallowed her whole. When Lucien died, a piece of her went to the grave with him. Chance understood her fear. It wasn't that Alex wasn't capable of loving him. It wasn't that he wasn't good enough for her. She was afraid on the same elemental level that some people were terrified of the dark. 




Dawn's Second Chance



Her fear was illogical. But, she refused to let it go. She clung to her memories and her fear like a lover in the night. She was terrified, as if she opened her heart to someone else, she'd lose her sadness and loneliness and the last bit of Lucien she had left. 

Being linked with Alex through the brotherhood gave Chance insight. Alex hated her memories of Lucien. Hated remembering the smell of his skin, the warmth of his arms, the taste of his lips, and the emptiness left behind in his absence. She was right when she'd told him he didn't know how long forever was. He didn't have a clue. 

Alex shouted at Chance, not in anger, but playfully. She darted after him, plunging head first into a thick copse of prickly, fragrant evergreen needles. "You wait till I get my hands on you!" 

"I'm not worried. You'll never catch me!" Chance's voice rang out. He dodged a bare branch hanging low in his path and bolted across the bluffs. Alex was on his heels, dripping a trail of muddy water behind her. He'd save her from her forever, if she'd let him. He'd replace her old forever with a brand new one, if she'd give him the chance. He skidded to a halt at the edge of a high ledge and looked over his shoulder. Her red hair was a fiery beacon amongst the sea of green pines. He supposed there were some things worse than death. Being left behind was, perhaps, the worst one of all. 

*****

Candace smiled as Will snuck up behind her and wound his arms around her waist. She'd been watching the playful banter between Alex and her son, unobtrusively, from her vantage point, high on the rocky ledges above the bluffs. "Husband," she purred affectionately. 

Will snuggled in closer, folding Candace's curvy body in his arms. "Wife." 

Candace lay back in Will's arms. Feeling his strength as it enveloped her, washing away her worries. She was a mom. And she worried constantly about her son. Chance was an adult, fully capable of looking after himself. For the most part, she left him to it. But, occasionally when her 'mom sense' went into overdrive, she couldn't help herself. "Look at them," she whispered, pointing a chin at Alex and Chance. 

"Hmm? What about them?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. Chance and Alex were goofing around on the bluffs. Throwing mud balls at one another and in general, having a good time. He didn't see anything unusual about that. Alex and his son were never too far apart. "I'd rather look at you naked in our bed," he whispered suggestively. As far as he was concerned, Candace and he were still newlyweds and officially, on their honeymoon. 

"I thought the honeymoon was cancelled," Candace replied, teasingly rocking her hips against the bulge pressed into her backside. Maybe she was making too much of it. Chance needed friends. During his teen years he'd had no shortage of female companions. And as his mother, she'd found not one of them good enough for her son. Chance was something special. He deserved someone special. And as for Alex, the verdict was still out. Alex was likeable enough, Candace guessed. Woman to woman, they had no problems. But, right for Chance, she wasn't so sure about that. 

"Our honeymoon is still on," Will mumbled. He nipped his way along the graceful curve of her neck, running a hand up the inside of her sweater as he paused to flick her blossoming nipples playfully with his fingertips. She stiffened against him and then relaxed against him with a deep sigh. "Come on Mother Hen, quit worrying. Chance is fine. Alex is with him." 

"That's what I'm worried about," Candace mumbled under her breath. Alex was a good person. No doubt about that. But, she had a tortured soul brought on from too much loss and too many broken dreams. She nurtured her hurt and waved it like a banner for everyone to see. Alex used her shattered emotions as an excuse to get out of living and to go on in the luxury of her numbness, simply existing. 

No one, not even her best friend Janine, dared to confront Alex about the sham of her existence. Alex went through the motions of living. But, she hadn't truly been alive, felt anything but the numbness of loss, for far too long. Candace would not have Alex using her son to temporarily patch the empty void left behind by Lucien's death.

"Huh," Will grumbled, reluctantly abandoning his quest for his wife's body. He saw nothing wrong with Chance befriending Alex. Candace bristled at the thought. Chance was good for Alex. Everyone had tried to patch her back together. Janine kept Alex from completely neglecting herself and wallowing in her misery. Alex's parents gave her love. But, nothing or no one had come close to filling the void in her heart left behind by Lucien's death. Maybe, Chance could. So far, he'd been the only person able to reach her on anything beyond a superficial level. And that was a good thing. Wasn't it? Given Candace's reaction to seeing the two of them together, he wasn't so sure. 

Candace knew she was being completely ridiculous and over protective of her son. Will was probably the only person with the guts to tell her that. And he had by his casual reaction to Chance and Alex's friendship. Will absently stroked his fingers over her hips in the vague hope of distracting her thoughts from their son. After all, they had so much lost time to make up for and their honeymoon had just gotten started. The brothers cut Will a rare break by leaving him alone to enjoy a few days of uninterrupted privacy. And she wasted it by worrying about something she had no hope of controlling. "Is that offer still open?" 

"I thought you'd never ask." 



Chapter 6

Janine yawned sleepily, pulling the covers up tightly around her neck and snuggling deeper into the soft warmth of the blankets. Slightly confused by her surroundings, she blinked. A contented smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was nestled comfortably in bed with her head resting in the crook of Patrick's arm. 

She didn't remember leaving Robbie's house, the drive home, or climbing under the covers. Fearful of giving herself away, she stifled the urge to sigh. The only way she could have gotten into bed was for Patrick to put her there. And didn't that make the awkwardness and the discomfort of feeding Marcus from her wrist all the more bearable. She snuggled in a little closer to Patrick and pretended to be asleep. 

Patrick sensed when Janine awoke. But, kept silent. Foolishly, she'd placed her life in danger at the hands of another vampire, just to prove a point. And he was still angry at her, his ego as bruised and tender as her wrist. Dutifully, he'd taken her defenseless sleeping form off the porch swing, where Marcus had placed her. He'd driven her home, and deposited her in his bed, where she belonged. Where she was safe. He vowed, no matter what, he'd never let her feed another from her wrist. Ever. 

"Good, you're awake," Patrick said, dipping his lips to the soft curve of her neck. His body stiffened and tightened, quelling his anger and replacing it with something else. Something more painful and demanding. Hunger. Responding to her warmth, he trailed his lips in a path to the rise of her bare shoulder. Outrage at her offense forgotten, he grew hard, starving with his need to lay his claim on her once again. 

"Patrick," Janine protested weakly in a tone that said no but denied him nothing. Feeding Marcus had left her drained and exhausted. Something she wouldn't dare confess to Patrick or complain about, to anyone. Patrick's hands continued gently coaxing, teasing the sensitive places on her body, places only he knew about, until she was panting and moaning with want beneath their skillful seductive onslaught. Forgetting her weariness, she yielded, slave to her needs, guiding him, spreading wide to welcome him home.

Patrick covered her with his body, allowing Janine to take from him what she wanted. And she did, maddeningly slowly, excruciatingly pleasurably, milking every bit of her arousal, building it to a climax with the girth and length of his erect cock until he gripped the sheets and panted from the effort of holding back. Only then did he give in to his body's demands. Unleashing his restraint, he exploded lost in a world of pleasure she alone could provide. A roar of possessiveness rumbled in his throat. Janine bucked and writhed against him, spurring him on with her sharp little fingernails clutched into the flesh of his butt. Experiencing joy of his making a second time. He took all of her body and only a taste of her blood. Reveling in the knowledge that he owned both of them, fully and completely. She was his. 

Janine sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in a rumpled, sex stained, bed sheet blissfully contented, dizzy headed, and her body thoroughly exhausted. Patrick had wrung every bit of passion out of her. She felt the buzzing invasion of his mind, probing into her thoughts. She was careful, not to give anything away. But, he knew. His body pressed against her. His hands gentle on her shoulders, guiding her into strong arms. She leaned against his chest, fighting to hide her fatigue and her weariness from him. 

Patrick withdrew his arm from around her waist and sucked in a breath as his fangs pierced his wrist. A peace offering of sorts, she supposed. The healing properties of his blood would restore her in a matter of seconds. If she wished to pay the price it demanded in return. The warmth of his flesh and the fragrant scent of his blood passed under her nose. "Promise me, Janine. Promise never to let anyone drink from you again."

She turned her face away from the tempting lure of Patrick's blood. She knew the magic his blood held and the heavy cost, if she drank. He meant to put his mark on her, thoroughly and completely. Not permanently, as she desired. If that were the case, she'd do it without a second's hesitation. They were as close as two people could be without the permanency of a shared blood bond. This was the only part of herself she had left. Her only defense and means of preservation to save her heart from shattering under his well intended gesture. She'd have no part of it. Sharing his thoughts as he shared hers. Knowing he wanted her. But, didn't want her enough. 

Patrick wanted her promise and she didn't offer it lightly. She wouldn't make a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. If it were needed, she'd be the first in line to offer her wrist. Feeding Marcus, weird as it might seem, gave her a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Gathering her strength, she pushed off the bed and stood on wobbly legs. "I'm fine, really."

Patrick released Janine, watching her slowly made her way into the bathroom. She wasn't fine. He could see the truth in her wobbly steps. He licked the wounds on his wrist closed, scowling at the reminder of her stubborn refusal. Offering his blood to her filled him with pride and scared him to death. What horrors would she find there hidden in the shadows? He huffed out a breath, pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, and left her alone. Retreating to do what he did best, hide. While she did what she did best, pretended.

Chapter 7

Chance cleared the tree line, bolting into the clearing. Trotting to the edge of the bluff he squinted against the dawn. Sometimes, it was easy to take for granted the wonders of this new body with all of its abilities. Until daylight put him in his place and had him scrabbling for the protective lenses tucked in his pocket. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, filling the sky with hues of gray and pink. The view was dazzling from his vantage point, perched high above the sleepy valley below. He walked over the steep, rocky, edge, watching the beauty of the morning unfold. 

Alex silently lowered her body, sitting on the massive expanse of a cold, hard, gray boulder, allowing Chance his moment of quiet before the start of another busy day, his human moment. She threw her head back, inhaling deeply of the fresh cool morning air and locking it in her lungs. Every vampire had things they missed from their human lives. Simple things they took for granted when they had them at their disposal. Hers was coffee. For Chance, it was the breaking of the dawn. 

Chance turned away from the edge and sat down next to Alex, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "Hey there you dirty girl," he teased. Running his fingers along a patch of dried mud clinging to her cheek, he tsked playfully. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingertips. Her brown eyes met his, glittering in the pink hue of the lightening sky. Gently, he cupped his palm around her chin and guided her face to his. This was a tactically dangerous move. But, maybe it was the exhilaration of the run or the promise of the dawn that gave him courage and a false sense of bravery. Maybe, it was just something he wanted to do. Slowly, he lowered his mouth, pressing his lips to hers, stealing an innocent, sweet kiss.

Alex knew Chance was going to kiss her. But, she didn't try to stop him. His touch was warm and as inquisitive as the kiss. Offering an invitation she longed to lose herself to. She wound her hand through his hair, pulling him closer. Running her tongue along his lips, she tasted his shock and his eagerness. Just a minute of indulgence, a few seconds of solace from her prison of loneliness, was all she wanted. She fought against the passion stirring to life inside of her. Not expecting her heart's betrayal so quickly or with such abandon. Abruptly, she pulled back, gasping, shamed and embarrassed by her reaction to the chaste press of his lips against hers. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that." Before he could say a word, she darted into the woods, leaving him sitting alone on the boulder, staring after her.

Chance muttered under his breath, kicking at the soggy ground and cursing his stupidity. Why did he have to kiss her? Why didn't he try to stop her from running off? "Damn," he grumbled, scraping his hand across his jaw in frustration. Why did she have to kiss him back? She'd looked so pretty, amazing really, with the pink light of dawn setting the reds of her hair ablaze, turning the soft brown of her eyes, golden with the heated embers of unrealized passion. 

A shudder ran along his spine as he thought about the way her lips, full and soft, felt against his. She'd run off in the woods, embarrassed and in shame. She wouldn't want to hurt him by rejecting him. What choice did he leave her but to run? "Idiot," he hissed, ashamed by his lack of restraint and the way he'd let his hormones overrun his common sense. He hoped he hadn't lost her friendship. 

A deep chuckle echoed through the woods behind him, distracting Chance from his self-damnation long enough to look up. John Mark stood lounging against the base of a tree with his arms folded, mocking him. "Not a word," Chance grumbled in warning. Quickly turning away from the hulking bulk of warrior. He took a deep breath trying to collect his thoughts. Thoughts he wasn't used to sharing. Thoughts Alex would know too, if she concentrated on discovering them.

John Mark noticed Chance's discomfort and the defeated slump of his shoulders. Heeding his warning, he thought it best not mention the kiss he'd witnessed a few moments ago. Chance showed real promise. The kid was a mentor's wet dream. Mastering every challenge set before him with graceful ease. But, mastering Alex's heart? John Mark didn't know if Chance had the stamina for that. 

Alex had been alone too long. Frozen solid in a state of suspended animation since Lucien's death. John Mark and the rest of the brothers saw her as a sister. They honored her privacy and stayed out of her head out of respect for the fallen brother. To them, it was an unspoken rule. She was off limits. Chance didn't have the same qualms about pursuing her romantically. He hadn't known Lucien. He hadn't seen Alex happy, truly happy, the way she had been with Lucien. He didn't know how far she'd fallen and how much of a shadow of her former self she was. Lucien wasn't the ghost. The only lost soul-the only ghost around here, was Alex. 

The kid had his work cut out for him. John Mark hoped Chance would be able to give Alex what she needed. Start her heart beating again. "Saddle up, princess. We've got training to do."

Chapter 8

"There, that should do it," Toby said to himself. proudly surveying his handiwork. He'd spent all night wiring Anna's house. Transforming it into a temporary base of operations. From here he should be close enough to monitor Marcus. But, not too close rise suspicion. If the rogues were where Marcus thought they were. There were other places he could have chosen to set up shop, Candace's place or Janine's old apartment. But, here camped out in Anna's dining room was so much cozier. 

Sleepily, Anna shuffled her way into the dining room, or what used to be a dining room. Now the cozy space looked like an electronics nightmare. Black cables snaked their way across her highly polished hardwood floors. Bundles of multicolored wires draped across the lemon chiffon colored paint on her walls like festive garland strung up for the holidays. Keyboards and monitors were scattered across her vintage white lace tablecloth. Stifling a sigh, she stepped over a tangle of cords, blocking her way to the coffee pot. "Morning," she mumbled unenthusiastically as she flicked the on button. 

Toby was wickedly smart with technology. But, he lacked common sense sometimes. Annoyed that he'd invaded her home and in the process of destroying her dining room couldn't be bothered to turn on the coffee pot, she mentally kicked herself for saying 'yes' to his request. She should have known better. Ever since the day they met, her life was in a constant state of upheaval. Most of the time, it was a pleasant upheaval. The kind that curled her toes and sent shivers of pleasure up her spine. Regrettably, this time, it was not. Grunting in displeasure, she picked her way across the dining room to the shower. 

Toby grinned, casually watching her backside sway beneath the folds of her nightgown. He could tell she wasn't happy about the disheveled state of her dining room. It certainly didn't help that she was not a morning person to begin with and he'd forgotten to turn on the coffee pot. The woman needed about a gallon of that stuff to be marginally civil first thing in the morning. Her scowl would have made a lesser man piss himself. But, he knew his Anna. She was all bark and no bite. He was this close to his goal. He was in her home. Had shared her body. Taken of her blood. And soon, he'd win her heart for good. 

Anna hurriedly showered and changed into clean clothes taken directly off the rack and stuffed in a sealed plastic bag. It was important that Marcus have no trace of the Sons' scent on him when he went to meet the rogues. She hadn't bothered with showering or breakfast before she left. Candace lived on the other side of the city. Not an easy commute in between the onslaught of rush hour traffic. At daybreak on a weekday, it was a painful drive through the heart of the city. After fighting an hour and a half to make the thirty-mile drive, she'd barely had time to pull into the driveway, rid her skin of Toby's scent, and change before Marcus arrived. 

Marcus mashed the accelerator to the floor as he changed lanes, barely making it to his exit before a maniac in a blue Ford Explorer tried to cut him off. He'd put the tiny economy car belonging to Chris through its paces on the drive to the city. He was on his way to Candace's house to meet up with Anna. 

He was sick of blood, still feeling sluggish and stuffed from his prior feedings. Leigh and Alexander had been nice enough. More than willing to do their part. What he wouldn't give to eat something else. A pizza loaded with cheese and pepperoni topped off by a cold beer would sure hit the spot. But for him, another warm-blooded wrist was waiting.




Dawn's Second Chance



The thought of going to Candace's house filled him with dread. Yes, he accepted that she'd found her one true love. And unfortunately, it wasn't him. The memory of her and all they'd gone through in their escape from the rogues was still too fresh in his mind. And his unrequited feelings for her, too raw. Hell, he'd sliced his own flesh in an attempt to escape them. Free of the tracker around his ankle, he entertained the brief idea of how easy it would be to give the brothers the slip and just keep driving. 

Anna paced nervously making circles around Candace's tiny living room. She pulled back the curtains, looking out into the dawn, impatiently waiting for Marcus to arrive. This was her first official act as a donor and she wasn't sure what to expect. Absently, she waved, knowing Toby was hiding out of sight. Watching.

Although Anna couldn't see him, Toby waved back to her from his hiding place across the street. He was proud of his girl and the sacrifice she was willing to make, for him and his brothers. He didn't have anything against Marcus. In fact, he considered him a friend. But, the thought of him biting through Anna's creamy, tender flesh made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. This was his sacrifice to the brothers, to allow another vampire to feed off his woman. She was his fiancée. He hadn't asked and she hadn't accepted, and it didn't matter. She was still his. 

Marcus guided the car to a stop at the curb and slid it into park. After over three hours of being crammed into the compact car with his knees up around his ears, he was grateful to be at his destination. He got out and took a look around, noticing the shadowy figure of a man standing off in the distance, watching. 

He shivered and self-consciously ran a hand along the back of his neck to calm his jangled nerves. The last thing he needed was another jealous boyfriend. Patrick had been seething with fury, glaring at him, fangs extended ready to fight, when he collected Janine into his arms. Marcus had taken great care with her, monitoring her closely, not taking too much, and making sure she was comfortable while he fed. But, none of that had mattered to Patrick. He was angry. Marcus wasn't sure if Patrick had been angry at him, angry with Janine, or angry with himself. Not looking forward to taking Anna's wrist, he knocked on the door.

Anna forced a welcoming smile across her lips and answered the door. Greeting Marcus with a hug. The situation was awkward enough without her trepidation getting in the way. She hoped her smile would make this meeting more comfortable than their first one had been. Their first encounter hadn't gone too well. He was injured, half-starved, and in desperate need of blood. He'd smelled the Sons on her and assumed she was a donor. Snatching her wrist, he dragged her into an alley and almost sank his fangs into her out of desperation. 

She never got the whole story. Usually, the brothers gossiped like a bunch of blue haired grandmothers. But, about this, about what happened to push Marcus over the edge, they were as tight lipped as monks under a vow of silence.

Marcus released Anna from his embrace, shrugging he walked into the living room as she shut the door behind him. Candace's personal things were gone. Moved to the compound. The furnishings that were left were cold and impersonal. The house nothing more than an empty shell. "Hi," he said, eager to have this over with and get on with the mission. He couldn't help but return her smile though. "Do I still smell like a Son?" he asked, joking to break the ice.

Anna leaned in closer, sniffing. "I'm human, you all smell the same to me." Marcus didn't smell bad. But, he didn't have the woodsy, earthy, scent she associated with Toby and the brothers. More than a scent, it was an aura that clung to them. An aura Marcus lacked. "I think there's something different though. Did you get a haircut?" she teased, reaching up to twirl a strand of his sandy brown hair between her fingers.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" At the rate he was aging and his body responded to the effects of time, he wouldn't need a haircut for at least a century, maybe more. Assuming he lived that long. Marcus pushed the thought far from his mind. Now was not the time for doubt. He needed to focus. Taking her dainty hand, he guided Anna to the couch and motioned for her to sit.

Anna sat beside him, more nervous than ever. She'd seen the cloud of doubt that floated across his face and it had her worried. "Are you scared?" she asked. Taking his rough hand in hers, she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Marcus had a hard edge to him. A certain roughness that not even the grace of his vampire movements could erase. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He'd grown up surrounded by the cold harshness of the lesser parts of the city. His life before had not been an easy one. And his life after hadn't been a bed of roses either. She couldn't fathom the danger he willingly placed himself in by going to the rogues. 

"Nah, it's all in a day's work." Marcus shrugged, faking courage he didn't feel. Saying what she needed him to say. He did his best to reassure her. Ignoring the glint of sympathetic understanding he saw in her icy blue gaze. Even when he'd attacked her, she'd understood, saved him from losing his head, and the worst of Toby's retribution. He held her hand tightly, turning her fingers up. 

Anna was a woman he couldn't begin to fathom. She could be cold and calculating, hard and unyielding as ice. Brutally doing whatever needed to be done with relentless efficiency. But, beneath the hardness, she was soft, pliable, and warm. Something had scared her and scarred her early in life. Forced her gentleness into hiding. The face she showed the world was not the face she showed him and the people she cared about. Anna loved deeply and completely. And he considered it no small thing that she considered him in her close circle of friends. She was a beautiful woman, not only on the outside with her slender, willowy, tall figure, legs that went up to here, and sleek, pale hair. She was the complete package, beautiful on the inside as well, where it really, really counted the most. 

He turned her hand palm side up, running his fingers along her wrist, trying to coax himself into biting her. He sighed and drooped his shoulders. Anna deserved better than his best line of bullshit. "Actually, I'm scared shitless." 

Anna ducked her head low, forcing his green eyes to meet her blue ones. "I can imagine." 

He took a deep breath. "If I fail, the Sons may be worse off than they are now. It might provoke an attack. I was there the night of the battle. I remember every second of it. So much death, so much blood, and suffering." 

"Is that why you're doing this? To make amends?" Anna asked, breaking her gaze. Horrified by the pain of the memories she saw reflected in his eyes.

"No. Nothing I could ever do would make it right and erase what happened. These people are my friends. I want to make sure none of them ever suffer again." Marcus felt relieved for saying the truth. Reflexively, he wrapped his fingers tighter around Anna's fingers to ward off the chill that had settled on his skin. Her warmth gave him a sense of strength and solace.

Anna smiled, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze in return. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around his jaw, guiding his face to meet hers. "It doesn't matter how you smell. Your willingness to sacrifice for us makes you a brother." She smoothed a stray lock of sandy brown hair out of his eyes and continued. " Your love for the brothers makes you a Son and I am proud to do anything I can to help you, ni noth'tu, my warrior." 

Anna's words touched Marcus. Illuminating a dark spot in his heart and giving him strength. He would succeed. Her faith in him gave him courage. He would not consider any other outcome. He had to, for her sake. Marcus brushed the edges of her mind, spellbinding her. Once he was certain she would feel no pain, he lifted her wrist to his lips, biting down and taking her strength into his body, binding it with his.

A deep low grow escaped Toby's throat when Marcus drew his first draught from Anna's wrist. He expected to feel a little jealous. Vampires didn't share their dinner or their women, especially when they were one in the same. Spots of red-hot fury clouded his vision. And a growl rumbled from someplace deep in his chest. 

"Easy there buddy. It'll be over soon," Bryce said in a low cautious tone. "Let's go out on patrol for a while. Take in some scenery." He guided Toby away. "Don't worry, Lance is here. He'll watch over Anna till we get back. You need some air."

The red spots faded and Toby's vision cleared. Rushing in jealously and attacking Marcus sure wouldn't be a way to inspire Anna's heart to love him. Bryce was right. He did need some air, a lot of it. "Yeah, sure."

"Anna," Marcus whispered, gently shaking her awake. "I've got to go." 

"Oh," Anna yawned. "I must have fallen asleep. I'm sorry." She sat up, still a little woozy from the effects of his feeding. She took his hand and struggled to her feet. Seeing him off was important to her. Following him, she walked to the door and paused, wrapping her arms around him in a tight, friendly embrace. 

Marcus returned the hug, squeezing Anna lightly, relishing the feeling of warmth radiating off her body. "Thank you, Anna," he whispered. He reveled in her openness and her courage. Taking strength from her embrace. She might be the last human that willingly hugged him for a very long time, if ever, again. He wanted to savor that feeling and bury it deep in his heart for the hard times waiting ahead of him.

"Keep yourself safe out there." She sniffled back a tear, blinking it away before more could fall. Marcus was one of the good guys. He deserved to win. And far more recognition than anyone gave him. He was terrified. She could feel his hesitancy in the way he held her in his loose embrace. His fingers locked in the loose folds of her sweater and drew her close as if he were memorizing every curve and line of her body. Taking in her warmth and the solid feel of her. 

"Keep Toby in line for me." He broke free from her embrace and smiled down at her. Cupping her face in his hand, he stared deeply into her blue eyes, amazed by the compassion and the courage he saw in them. He could do this. If for no other reason than she believed he could. 

Anna shot Marcus a sly smile. "You know I will." She felt a rush of cool air as Marcus turned and shot down the sidewalk at unbelievably fast vampire speed. She leaned her head against the cold, steel doorframe, watching the tiny car pull away from the curb. Drawing her sleeves over the ends of her fingers, she wrapped her arms around her body, shivering from the sudden March chill. He was in her head. Sharing her emotions and thoughts. Everything she sent him was good, brave, and filled with hope. Not for the mission, she knew he'd succeed with that. But, hope that someday, he'd find what he was looking for. 

Marcus drove through town and pulled into the deserted parking garage to wait for his pick up. Glancing down at his watch, he had hours to pass. He should spend them trying to get his head on straight. But, he could not take another second in Candace's house, surrounded by her human scent. He could have passed the time talking with Anna. But, he couldn't tolerate her trusting gaze, so confident, falsely so, in his abilities. Deciding not to sit and stew over what might come next, he headed out, aimlessly wandering the streets of the city, in search of... something.

 Chapter 9

Alex stared down into her steaming mug of creamy, mocha brown, liquid lost in thought. She assumed the kitchen would be the last place Chance would look for her. And she was certain to avoid him, hiding at the dining room table. Since his change, he avoided the kitchen like the plague. Most vampires did. They couldn't stand the smell of human food. She didn't want to talk to him. She wasn't sure what she would say. She regretted running out on him like she had. He'd laid himself out for her and she'd rejected him in the worst way possible. She should have stopped running, turned around, and faced him. Explained.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy his kiss. Quite the contrary. He was gentle, his lips soft and questioning on hers. She shivered from the heat surging through her body at the thought. He'd kissed her and she'd responded. Wildly and needy, pressing him to deepen the kiss. Willing him to give her more. Wanting more. It wasn't his kiss, but her response to it that left her shocked and scurrying for cover. 

Her body had betrayed her. Betrayed Lucien. Responding to Chance's kiss with passion and welcoming. She thought that part of her died with Lucien. She assumed she'd spend the remainder of her very long life alone. Her mind and body fought a harsh battle. Her heart wasn't ready. But, apparently, her body certainly was. She groaned, lowering her face to the warm steam radiating off the mug in her hand. Could she have a friendship with a man that she was attracted to? How could she even think about a relationship with Chance when her heart so desperately clung on to Lucien? How was that fair to anyone?

The sounds of someone riffling through the fridge drew Alex's attention. She lifted her head and frowned. Janine stood at the fridge. Leaning heavily on the open door for support. Her spindly fingers shook, barely maintaining their hold on the juice carton she pulled off the shelf. "Whoa, you look like shit. Janine what happened?" Alex rushed to her best friend's side and took the orange juice from her hand. Guiding her to a dining room chair and sitting her down, she anxiously surveyed Janine's pale complexion and drawn face. 

Janine smiled weakly up at Alex. "Long story," she mumbled. She should have taken the time to brush the tangles out of her hair and slap on a little foundation before shuffling to the kitchen. But, she felt a hell of a lot worse than she looked. And she'd barely had the strength to make it to the kitchen at all. She needed some juice. Something to perk her up and set her to rights. Alex, playing the role of concerned best friend, dutifully poured a glass of orange juice and thrust it into her hand. Janine sighed thankfully and drank down the juice in one gulp. 

"I've got nothing but time," Alex said. The juice helped. Janine looked a little bit more like herself. Alex emptied the rest of the carton into Janine's glass and took the seat beside her. 

Janine sighed and toyed with the rim of her empty glass. "Men," she said, sighing heavily as if that one word summed it all up nicely. 

Alex nodded sympathetically and stared down into her mug of cold coffee. Men were a complication. Without them, life would be so much simpler. Dull even. But, with them, life, no matter how complex, was certainly much more interesting. Sometimes, too interesting and too complex. "Patrick?"

Janine nodded and smiled gratefully at Alex. "How'd you guess?"

Chapter 10

Marcus always wandered back to the same spot. For some reason bordering on the perverse, his feet always carried him back to the place of his birth into this life. His boots marked his steps along the cracked pavement with morose precision to the very spot it had happened. He rested his hands on his thighs and hung his head. His eyes focused on the faded, crumpled, weather tattered cigarette pack ground into the frosty bits of gravel and mud. 

The job didn't pay much. But, it was an honest living and kept the roof over his head. He'd snuck out the back door for a smoke during the slow time between the late night run of drunks and the early morning commuters. He'd just taken his first puff when hands snaked out of the darkness, dragging him behind the overflowing dumpster. The hands were strong and merciless-inescapable. There was the sting of the bite then nothing but agony and suffering. Demolishing the building and turning it into an empty lot, or in this case, an urban renewal project, wouldn't erase the nights of terror he'd endured. They'd always be with him, a part of him. 

Even though the ones who committed the atrocities against humanity-against him-were dead. There were others out there like them. Once his mission was completed and justice served. Maybe then he'd have some peace. He bent into a crouch and snatched the soggy cigarette pack with his fingers, crushing it into a wet ball in his fist. Lobbing the wad of plastic, crumpled bits of tobacco, and muddy debris into the ally, he stood and lifted his head. The sky above was pale with the first light of dawn. 

Redemption, what a thing that would be for someone like him. With a heavy sigh he wound his way through the streets back to the rendezvous point. Marcus stayed close to the fading shadows. Watching commuters shuffle to their offices, with Styrofoam coffee cups clutched in one hand, and briefcases in the other, like a herd of sleepy sheep. Although, they were alive in every technical sense of the word, he wondered how many of them were truly living. That was one thing he could say about his life, or his unlife, as the case was, at least he was living it.

Sam sped through the parking garage, navigating its twists and curves with expert precision. She was late for her pick up. The details of her assignment were sketchy and vague. Meet up with the vamp. Set up shop in some town she'd never heard of before. Blend in with the locals. And gather intel. Simple. Spotting a silver compact car, she slowed her SUV to a crawl and checked the number on the license plates. Making sure they matched the set of she'd been given. The damned parking garage was filled with dozens of cars exactly like this one and she couldn't afford a mistake. Once she confirmed she had the right car, she pulled into the empty space beside it and slid the SUV into park. 

Slinging her long black braid behind her shoulder, she unbuckled and hopped out of the driver's seat. The heels of her boots made a satisfying loud smack on the concrete. Leaning against the SUV, she stared out into the parking garage, waiting impatiently for her pick up to arrive. She spotted him casually walking toward her. 

Despite the otherworldliness radiating off of him, he blended in nicely. Moving slowly, his slightly off balance gait, giving no hint to his preternatural grace. He did human quite well. His hair was a shaggy, sandy, light brown color. He was a little taller than average, with a medium build that certainly wouldn't attract anyone's attention. His clothing was as non-descript as the rest of him. Loose fitting, slightly worn denim jeans and a brown poplin jacket over a faded t-shirt. To everybody else, he'd look like just another face in the crowd. Boring, she thought. Exactly the right person for the mission. She extended her hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Marcus," he said, briefly accepting her hand. She wasn't what he'd expected. Petite bordering on tiny. Maybe, topping the scales at one hundred ten pounds, soaking wet. The top of her head barely struck him at chest level. Delicate like a china doll. So fragile looking he was afraid if he shook her hand, she'd break. This was his partner? She was supposed to be his back up if the shit hit the fan? She didn't look capable of defending herself against a Chihuahua let alone a nest of hungry rogues. 

Her round guileless eyes were the deepest brown he'd ever seen. Almost black. Tanned skin, a rich russet hue, a pert upturned nose, and lush, full, blush lips completely disarmed him. And discounted her worth as a lethal hunter of rogues. This woman had weapons in the form of plump, hilly cleavage peeking over the low neckline of her tank top, dangerous curves hugged by hip riding denim jeans, and a tiny, compact, athletic build. Unbound from its braid, her dark hair would be long enough to form a cape around her narrow torso. A guy could forget what he was fighting for in the depths of her beauty. Forget attacks and war. Drop to his knees and beg her to make love to him instead. 




Dawn's Second Chance



Sam shifted her weight uncomfortably under Marcus's stare. He appraised her with a slow, lazy, utterly masculine glance of casual appreciation. She didn't know whether to be flattered or offended. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. Hadn't he ever seen a woman before? Unfettered, she cleared her throat to draw his attention and his eyes off her cleavage. "Stow your gear in the back and lets hit the interstate." 

She stormed around to the driver's side of the SUV, definitely not enjoying the heat of his stare, fixed solidly on her ass. He was probably standing in a puddle of his own drool. Biting off a curse, she climbed behind the wheel while he loaded his gear in the back. 

Marcus slid into the passenger side and buckled up. Explaining his confusion, he stammered awkwardly, "When I was given my instructions and told that someone named Sam would be my contact. I was expecting a guy."

Sam shoved the SUV into reverse and backed out of the parking space. She slammed the gear into drive and stomped her foot on the gas. The powerful engine bucked forward. "Sorry to disappoint you. It's short for Samantha."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed. Not in the least." Marcus groaned, shrinking into the seat and resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. Deciding not to dig himself in any deeper, he zipped his lips. This wasn't going very well. She'd probably try to stake him herself in his sleep. 

Sam rolled her eyes at Marcus's off hand comment. What a jerk! Next he'd be asking to take the wheel, certain a little girlie like her couldn't handle such a complex task as driving. When she'd heard about the battle and how hard the Sons had been hit, she'd given up her job and her apartment in Southern California, and hopped the first plane home. 

Her adoptive brother had always been so protective of her, making sure she stayed far away from the front lines. When Dane had asked her to take the assignment. She'd jumped at the chance. She smiled in a less than friendly way at Marcus. This guy was going to get an ass kicking, if he didn't treat her right, and Dane found out it. Hell, she didn't need her insanely overly protective older brother to kick this guy's ass. She would happily do it herself. Too many times her size had given her the upper hand. Her abilities were greatly underestimated. Not wanting to engage in an hour of small talk, she turned up the volume on the CD player, filling the compartment with the heavy bass thumping of rap music. Speeding up the onramp, she guided the SUV onto the interstate.

Marcus ground his teeth as rap music assaulted his sensitive hearing and rattled the fillings in his molars. She played the music, if it could be considered music at all, insanely loud. Small talk was impossible over the din blaring from the speakers. 

Samantha, Sam, drove like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of rush hour traffic with reckless abandon. Good thing he was virtually indestructible, otherwise he'd be worried. As it was, every time she made a particularly dangerous maneuver, he instinctively pressed his right foot to the floorboard and grabbed for the dash. 

Hazarding a glance at her through the shelter of his dark lenses, Marcus saw the slightest hint of a smile, not an artificial, forced, sarcastic grin, but a genuine smile, curving her lips. For a brief second, he forgot the mission. He forgot the shadows of his past and the uncertainty of his future. He bathed in the warmth of Sam's radiant joy. She lived like she drove, fast and without playing by anyone's rules but her own. 

Sam poured on the gas and sped past a blue compact car. She could walk faster than the traffic was moving this morning. What was it with Midwestern drivers? She gripped the wheel, biting back her irritation at the endless stream of taillights ahead of her. Reluctantly easing off the gas, she slowed and waited for an opening in the traffic.

Marcus sat stoically silent in the seat beside her. Frowning at the needle of the speedometer. Wincing every time he thought she got too close to one of the bumpers ahead of her. Reaching out to grip the dash as she passed a long line of semi-trailers. Pressing his foot to the floorboard when a car suddenly popped out of the flow of traffic and cut her off in its haste to reach the exit. 

Sunlight flooded the cabin in a sudden explosion of brilliance, causing him to dodge behind the shelter of his visor and bite back a curse of pain. Sam casually pulled her braid from behind her back and flipped it over her shoulder. She drove one handed, reaching for her sunglasses resting in the console between them. Earning a hard scowl for her supposed carelessness behind the wheel as she slid them over her nose. Rap music blared from the speakers. The sun warmed her cheeks. And traffic was finally starting to ebb. The cup of coffee she'd stopped to purchase from a convenience store was still warm enough to drink. Sometimes, life was good. 

She had him visibly rattled. He hated her choice of music. He thought she was careless and took too many risks behind the wheel. He wrinkled his nose at the sweet smell of her coffee. Subconsciously swallowing as she took a deep gulp and drained the contents. He stole glances at her from beneath the dark lenses protecting his eyes from the pale glow of the morning sun. He pursed his lips as if to make some comment and then deliberately clamped them shut. The man had game. Serious game. And seeing him, struggling to get the ball back into play was laughable. She understood why Dane chose him for the mission. He was just so damned human. 

Marcus wanted to get to know Sam before he had to form a link with her. He really, really wanted to get to know her on a personal level. He smiled at the thought. And at the absence of the only woman who held his every waking thought and most of his sleeping ones, from his mind. Candace... Candace who?

Chapter 11

Alex sank down into the tub. Air jets forced streams of hot water and fragrant bubbles across her skin. She needed a break from all the drama, her drama with Chance, Janine's drama, and the drama unfolding between the Sons and the rogues. She was stressed out. Easing her head back on the puffy, vinyl pillow, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. Blocking everything else out of her mind. 

Alex opened her eyes, squinting against the bright sun. She awoke in a meadow. Tall green grasses danced in the light summery breeze. The air was warm, clear and fresh, gently caressing her skin. At first she thought she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Then she realized, her dreams were never this vibrant in color, this fragrant in scent, the grass soft and so real to her touch. In her dreams everything had a fuzzy, surreal quality to it. She was in the spirit world, locked in the grip of a vision.

"Child," Kokumthena said, emerging from a row of tall trees blooming with brilliant lavender and pink blossoms. Her long silvery hair floated on currents of fragrant, gentle breezes. Her dark skin glowed, translucently reflecting the sun's light. Alex could barely withstand the brilliance of the goddess's beauty. Shrinking back, she shielded her eyes. "Come play with us," Kokumthena said. Her long, delicate fingers stroked the fur of a white wolf, sitting contentedly at her side. 

"I can't," Alex protested. She was behind on her work and had piles of aged scrolls waiting for her to translate. Artifacts left to be catalogued and packed away for preservation. "I've got work to do."

"Ah, yes. Work. Work. Work." Kokumthena shook her head in dismay. Reaching out, she touched Alex's face, running her fingers along her cheek. "Always working. Child, I didn't give you this life so that you could spend it toiling away at your labors. Where is your joy? Can't you take a few minutes to enjoy the beauty of this place?" She dropped her hand from Alex's chin and ran her fingers along the wolf's smooth white coat, pausing to tickle him lightly behind the ears.

"I don't have any joy," Alex replied. There was no point to lie to the goddess. She already knew the truth anyway. Looking away, Alex feared the goddess's wrath at her confession.

"That's because you won't allow it," Kokumthena chastised. She fashioned a ball out of thin air and tossed it off into the distance. With an eager woof, the wolf darted through the grass, chasing the ball. 

"What about the rogues?" Alex asked, biting her bottom lip. She should use this ethereal visit as a means to gather information. After all, she was the goddess's mouthpiece in the physical world. The spirit plane was no less real than the physical plane. But, not everyone believed. Not everyone could travel here. Not even Alex could coax a vision out of her mind's eye unless it was something the goddess wanted her to see.

"Ah, my siblings' creation." Kokumthena nodded in understanding. "What about them?"

"How do we defeat them?"

Kokumthena pressed a hand to Alex's shoulder, guiding her down into the grass to sit in a sunny spot beside her. One day, Alex feared she might get lost in the spirit world and be so content to stay she never left it for the physical world again. The sun always shone. The skies were always clear. The air was always fresh. Everything was just so perfect. 

"Child, once I asked my father the same question. I begged for him to wipe the evil from the face of the Earth. But, he refused. Instead, he gave me a gift. The gift I passed on to the Great Father and he passed on to you and your brothers and sisters." Kokumthena sighed in dismay. "Despite your long lives, you're still mortal, limited in your understanding. Good and evil will always exist, battling, one with the other. The key to peace is to learn to coexist. Just as the moon exists with the stars, neither one is more important than the other. Each adds beauty to the night sky, lights your path, and each serves a purpose." 

"Evil serves a purpose?" Alex asked in confusion. Evil was evil. There was nothing good about it. Evil had taken Lucien away from her. Alex watched the goddess, sprawled out on the carpet of green, picking pink and white clover flowers and gathering them with a child's simple innocence. "A truce?" 

"Perhaps." Kokumthena laughed, weaving her creation out of the delicate, sweet blossoms. Crowning Alex with the wreath, she gleefully leapt to her feet, dancing in circles with her head thrown back and her silver hair fanning out in shimmering waves around her tiny body, spinning faster and faster, blurring, until she disappeared.

Alex gasped, jolting awake to find herself exactly where she was when the vision hit her, back in the tub. The warm jets of water frothed bubbles over her bare skin. Tentatively, she reached up, shuddering when she felt the fresh crown of clovers resting atop her head. She hadn't been dreaming. She hadn't even been in this plane of existence. Hurriedly, she scrambled out of the tub and dressed. She had to find Dane and tell him about what she'd seen. Show him the proof of what the goddess asked them to do. 

"A truce?" Dane pensively rubbed his jaw, lost in thought. Alex barged into his office and told him about her vision in exacting detail. He could scarcely believe her story. Suspecting it wasn't a vision, but a dream instead. She blathered on and on about peace and a truce between the rogues and the Sons. But, for as long as he'd been a part of this world, there had never been any thoughts of a truce. "Alex are you sure you had a vision? Maybe, it was a dream? How can a peace exist as long as the rogues keep killing innocents?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me!" Alex exclaimed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. His brown eyes flashed at her defiant tone. Quickly she backed down and dropped her eyes to the floor. She hadn't meant to sound offended by his refusal to believe her. It was just that he'd asked her for a vision. He'd asked her for answers and now that she had them, he didn't believe her. 

"I didn't say that," Dane said cautiously. He'd already bought one new office chair after Neil had shot a hole in the previous one. He was quite fond of this chair and didn't relish the thought of searching for another. "The idea has merit. But..." 

Before Dane could utter another word of doubt, Alex slammed the wilted wreath of clover on his desk. "I even brought you proof. How do you explain this? It's early March. There's still frost on the ground. Clover doesn't bloom till May. I woke up with this on my head. I was there. I heard every word she said. And you question me?" Alex stormed out of Dane's office, slamming the door behind her. She knew what she saw with her own eyes and heard with her own ears.

Chris perched on the edge of the desk, eying her husband. "It's very pretty," she offered, handling the delicate wreath carefully. "You should go talk to Alex. Maybe, apologize. You can't ask her for a vision and then reject it when she has one you like." 

Dane pushed off from the, desk shoving the office chair back and sending it crashing into the wall. Chris was right. His gentle wife was always right. He had asked Alex for a sign. It wasn't her fault that he hadn't liked what she'd said. Rogues were killers. How could there ever be peace with them? "I need to think," he stammered, storming out of the room to leave Chris holding the wreath in her hands.

Alex ran through the labyrinth of hallways, blinded by hot tears of frustration. Dane thought she was a psych case. He didn't believe her. If it hadn't been for the wreath, she might not have believed it herself. Peace with the rogues seemed like an impossible answer. Rogues killed Lucien. Now, she was expected to plea for their lives in return. 

Each passing day, everyone expected more and more from her. They expected her to forget and move on. Even the goddess, who knew her heart better than anyone, demanded that she ask Dane for a truce with the rogues. Well, she'd delivered the message and it was up to him whether he believed it or not. Gaining speed, she bolted for the exit out of the compound. She needed time to sooth her wound pride, ease her jumbled emotions, and clear her head. Not watching where she was going she ran straight into Chance, the impact knocked her off balance, sending her sprawling.

Chance hadn't necessarily been looking for Alex and had been totally taken by surprise when she ran into him, literally ran in to him, knocking herself off balance. Deftly, he caught her before she fell flat on her ass. "Hey, you ok?" he asked.

Alex wriggled free from Chance's grip, forcefully pushing him away with all her strength. Wasn't he at the very crux of her breakdown? It hadn't been that Dane hadn't believed her. It was Chance who was ultimately responsible. He dared her to do something she thought impossible. Feel. "Leave me alone!" she hissed, ducking away from his concerned frown. Running for the exit as fast as her feet would carry her. 

Reflexively, Chance released Alex and stepped back. The sound of the slamming door echoed through the empty halls with a resounding boom. He wanted to chase after her and find out why she was so upset. But, thought the better of it. When caught in the path of a tornado, the smartest thing to do was to get out of its way. A philosophy he wholeheartedly agreed with. He retreated to his room, leaving the door cracked, in case she came back and wanted to talk, once she'd calmed down.



Chapter 12

Anna floated blissfully in the land between sleep and wake. Not quite ready to surrender just yet. She felt the warmth of Toby's body, lying next to her. His arms wound tightly and protectively around her waist. Stifling a yawn, she turned to glance at the clock. With a loud groan, she opened her eyes. She'd burned a vacation day and she was wasting it in bed. There was no point in putting it off any longer. It was time to get up.

"Morning, pretty lady," Toby said, softly tightening his grip on her hip to pull her into the line of his body. Snuggling his nose against the nape of her neck he inhaled her scent. 

Anna rustled the covers, reluctantly flinging them back. She couldn't help but notice that she was naked beneath the sheets. "Toby, why am I naked?" She remembered being picked up from Candace's house and some of the drive home, but after that, nothing. "Did you take advantage of me?"

Toby huffed slightly offended that she'd think him so low. "Absolutely not. You fell asleep on the drive home. And you were resting so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you, so I carried you in and put you to bed." He frowned, mocking her hasty attempt to scrabble for the sheets. "You looked uncomfortable in those restricting clothes, so I took them off."

"And left me naked?" Anna pulled the sheet up over her exposed breasts and leaned back on the pillows, glaring at him. "Pervert," she grumbled. She was still embarrassed to be naked in front of him. She knew every flaw. Her waistline was a little too thick, her butt too flat and wide, and her skin too pale. She preferred the lights out when they made love. He was a pleasure to look at. Sinfully constructed of chiseled muscle and flawless flesh. Deprived by the darkness, she didn't get the chance to behold him. But, at least, he couldn't see her as clearly either.

"I like to consider myself an opportunist," Toby teased lightly. He slid the sheet out of her fingers, gently pulling the fabric away from her body. "Besides, you didn't need a nightgown. I was here to keep you warm." He snaked closer, taking time to rub his erection along her hip, "I'm naked too. In case you didn't notice." 

Anna blushed furiously. Tempted to peek at the erection poking her in the hip. Just because she wasn't working, didn't mean she didn't have any work to do. Anticipating that she wouldn't be totally up to snuff after feeding Marcus, she'd brought her briefcase home from the office with her. The firm's latest project was in her hands. And this one could make or break her career. She had bills to pay and a reputation to keep. 

"I've really got to get some work done today," she protested, reluctantly. The weekend was only two days away, two long, grueling, days away. Friday evening, she planned to yield to temptation and give him the ride of his life. 

Toby pouched out his bottom lip in a pout. Anna had that look on her face. Jaw squared with determination, already riffling through her closet for something to wear, she shot him down. Left him hard and aching, and the bed cold. "Aw, come on give us a little sugar." 

Anna bent and landed a light peck on his forehead, making sure to keep her hips at a distance, "Sugar is in the kitchen. The main course will have to wait till Friday at four fifteen." 

"Yes!" Toby leaned back against the pillows, grinning widely. By four sixteen she'd be wriggling underneath him crying out his name in ecstasy. He winced as his groin tightened uncomfortably at the thought of his fingers stroking her secret places searching them out. "Easy cowboy," he grumbled. "Patience is a virtue." 

******

Alex stood at the foot of the grave, staring down at the granite headstone. Off the beaten path, nestled in a quiet corner of the county, the cemetery was where she went when she needed to think. Lucien's body wasn't resting below the marker. He was given a warrior's funeral. His body burned and his ashes released into the open air, as was the custom of the Sons. Yet here, amongst the pines and twisted, gnarled oaks, she felt his presence. As if he were standing behind her, silently watching her.

The stone had been erected as a prop. Marking his first death, the false one, that had torn them apart thirteen years ago. They were so young and in love. High school sweethearts with nothing but time, dreams, and a brilliantly gleaming, wide-open future filled with promise waiting ahead of them. The accident changed all that. She had gone on with her life thinking he was dead. Killed in the crash. Only to find out years later that he hadn't died. But, had been transformed. Changed into a Warrior Son.