Dawn Reclaimed

"Well, they did," Nash huffed. Perhaps bringing Grant back was a mistake after all. He was a changed man. But, not that changed. He seemed incapable of following the most simple of rules. Just the same as he always had. Nash drained his mug and stared down at the table. What to do about Grant? Nash knew he could exert his authority over the man easily enough. His house/ his rules. But, for once, Grant didn't appear to have some nefarious plot behind his breaking of the strict code. He'd had a reason for turning his wolf loose in town. And Nash had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"It won't happen again," Grant assured. He took a sip of the coffee and poured the remainder down the drain. There was no making the thick, inky black brew drinkable. Claire was his secret. Well, not a secret. But, he wasn't quite ready to introduce her to the family, just yet. He wanted time first. Had so much to prove to her before he brought her into the furrier side of his life. And the last thing he needed was the Pack mucking it up for him. "I didn't mean to endanger the pack. It was a mistake."

"Did you find the person you were looking for?" Drew asked curiously. Watching these two alphas carefully dance around one another was almost laughable. They were both trying so hard not to rub the other one the wrong way and start a fight. Just like every other father and son he'd ever seen. Keene had little to report about Claire. The woman kept to herself, quiet as a church mouse. And Drew wondered how far Grant was going to take things with her. Was she too normal for the abnormality of the bigger world?

"I hope so." Grant shrugged and set his rinsed mug in the strainer to dry. So, Drew knew. Nash knew. But, at least they'd kept their distance from Claire. His wolf had gotten him home sometime in the wee hours of the morning and he'd climbed into bed. What little sleep he'd managed to get hadn't come easily. His mind raced so full of plans. He hadn't been able to shut off his brain. He had things to do today. Get a job. Find a place to live. Catch a glimpse of Claire. Come up with a plan for how he was going to put his plan into action. Claire was not a stupid woman. And she'd never fall for a lie. He needed something brilliant but not too far fetched to win his way back into her heart. "Mind if I borrow the truck?"

"Of course not," Nash answered. Glancing at Drew with a raised eyebrow, he said nothing. Drew returned the look. Grant was up to something. He was usually a late riser, the last one up for the day. He was being too nice, too repentant for breaking the rules, and he was definitely too industrious for this early hour of the morning. Nash wanted to intervene. He had a feeling he was on the verge of losing Grant for good. Hunter sent back regular reports about Claire. She seemed to be a good woman. But, was she good enough for the secret Grant carried in his DNA?

"Thanks." Grant shrugged off his fatigue and palmed the keys to Nash's old beater truck. He headed out, leaving the men to talk about him and puzzle out exactly what he was up to. And he had no doubt they were talking about him. He'd gladly answer any questions they had, as long as they weren't about Claire. He had no idea of how to explain how deeply he'd gotten involved in such a short time.

"You want me to put a tracker on him? Patrick is the best. Grant won't even know he's being followed." Drew had the same sneaking suspicion that Nash did. Grant was up to something. The man had already risked their secret once. And they could not afford too many risks these days. Putting Patrick on Grant was less about trust and more about damage control than anything else. A few more sightings like Mrs. Jones's and the woods wouldn't be safe for anyone.

"I have to admit. I am curious. Grant has changed. Not that I'm complaining. He was a real bastard before."

"Love will do that to you."

"Undoubtedly." Nash rose from the kitchen table and ambled to the coffee pot to fill his empty mug. "Want some?"

"Ah, no."

Nash snickered and lifted the mug to his lips. Love could do many things. But, it had its limits. Somehow, he doubted if Drew would ever share Tala's love of a good, hot cup of coffee. He tipped his mug to Drew in a toast. "To the women who have tamed our beasts."

"Here. Here," Drew said.

Claire draped her stethoscope around her neck and trotted behind the nurse's station. Ready to start her morning and get the day over with. She cringed when Ginger turned the corner and made a beeline straight to her. Ginger was in rare form today. Red scrubs. Her cherry rinse shade of red hair teased high atop her head in a tight bun. Snapping away at the wad of gum in her mouth. Her shrewd, brown eyes traveled over Claire's face. Claire blew out a breath and blushed beneath Ginger's scrutiny, dreading what the woman was about to say.

"Well. Well. Look who's back." Ginger stepped closer and suppressed the urge to chuckle. Claire was trying for demure this morning. Her scrubs were muted blue. Her blonde hair pulled up in its usual messy ponytail. Not a trace of makeup on her face. And none of it hid the radiance that surrounded her. "Girl, you are positively glowing." Ginger gasped and grinned widely, clapping her hands in excitement. Romance and intrigue all before seven thirty in the morning. Kind of made signing up to come in on her day off worth it. "You got some didn't you. And judging by the looks of you, it was damned good." She patted Claire on the back in congratulations. "About damn time. So tell me. Who was he?"

Claire groaned. She sucked at fibbing. But she didn't want to share the intimate details, at least not this one, with anybody. "Psych unit is on fifth floor. I think you need to check yourself in. You're completely delusional."

"Ok, don't tell me. Don't share with your best friend. I already know you've been sinning. There's no need to be embarrassed. You needed a good romp in the sack."

Claire clicked her ballpoint pen. "Ginger. Report."

"Ok, ok. No need to be rude."

Thomas arrived on the bustling unit, making his morning rounds per usual. But, instead of wrinkled scrubs he wore a dress shirt and tie. Dressing to impress. Hoping to bump into Claire before she got too busy to notice him. He smiled widely and almost laughed, spotting her doing her best to dodge Ginger and still be polite about it. "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning Doctor St...Oh ... looking good today," Ginger growled appreciatively. She was no mathematician but she could add one plus one. Thomas never dressed in anything other than scrubs. And today...well he looked hot. And with Claire, blushing so furiously and looking anywhere but at the good doctor, well, wasn't that interesting? She grabbed a clipboard and fanned her face, snapping her gum to keep her mouth shut. These two had been at the devil's business. And damn did it suit them.

"Why, thank you," Thomas replied. Straightening his tie, he winked at Ginger. Claire was staring down at a computer screen instead of admiring the view. That was disappointing. He'd gotten up an hour early and ironed his dress pants and tie especially for her. She noticed although she was trying not to. And that was good, wasn't it? "Claire, good morning," He said pointedly, dragging her into the conversation.

Claire glanced up. What was going on with people today? Was it a full moon tonight? Thomas was dressed to the nines, freshly pressed with creases in his wool slacks. Was he meeting someone after work? "Good morning, Doctor," She said absently, as if she hadn't noticed. Work and friendship had no business mixing. She could be his friend after hours, but not during them. And Ginger, sure as hell needed no new topics for the hospital gossip mill.

The blush on Claire's cheeks satisfied Thomas. Gathering his charts, he sauntered off to see his patients. Leaving the two of them to stare after him and wonder exactly what the hell he was up to.

Ginger watched Thomas's butt as he walked away. "He looks good enough to eat. Too bad he's ten years too young. Oh, but the things I could teach him." Ginger waved her hand in front of Claire's face. Really, there was no need to pretend a romance wasn't in the works. But, Claire was sure trying to do just that. Ginger wouldn't hear of it. There was nothing wrong with two people so perfectly suited for each other falling in love. "Hello, you're missing the view."

"Ginger..." she clamped her mouth shut before she spilled Thomas's secret. Thomas was Gay. Ginger could look all she wanted. But, Thomas wasn't going to bite. And it had nothing to do with Ginger being older. "I've gotta check on my patients," she said practically running for the nearest room.

Chapter 8

By midday Grant was ready to pound his head on the steering wheel out of sheer frustration. There weren't many places in town hiring and even if he did want to bag groceries at the Super Center couldn't even begin to fill out a job application. He had no employment history, no social security number, no driver's license, and for all practical purposes, he didn't exist in the real world. And just as added bonus, he had the sneaky suspicion he was being followed.

He sat in the parking lot, staring out through the bug-splattered windshield of the truck. Others had left the pack. They made it in the world, somehow. But then, they weren't sent out naked and penniless, without resources, as he had been. And they had an open invitation to return home anytime the real world got too hard. Some had. Some had not. And how they made it, alone out here, without a past, Grant couldn't begin to fathom.

The Pack never spoke of the ones that left, almost as if they had died and been forgotten. Nash had to be helping them, keeping tabs on them from a distance, possibly even paying their way. He'd want to know the location of the ones brave enough to leave, if for no other reason than he'd want to track the whereabouts of the Pack's precious DNA. But, when the Pack had driven him out, tossing him out into the wilderness of the real world with nothing, was practically a death sentence.

Grant was quickly finding out that life on the outside was harder than he'd ever imagined. There were so many rules. The warm sunshine streaming through the windows of the truck, baking the inside, and him, caused his eyelids to feel heavy. His wolf wanted to curl up and take a nap. But, he didn't have time for that. He needed, well, he needed to get a life.

Turning the key in the ignition, he backed out of his parking spot and turned left on the main highway towards town. Grant eased off the gas as the neighborhoods came into view and steered the truck around the corner, driving through the side streets. Inching down the neighborhoods until Claire's familiar scent filled his nostrils. His wolf eagerly wagged his tail at the smell of her. Stupid wolf. His wolf had marked his territory well last night. And Grant had no trouble calling on his wilder side to pin down her location.

Claire's house was in the middle of the block. Flanked on either side by a cookie cutter rendition of her small, non-descript, one-story bungalow. The place was neat as a pin on the outside. The lush green grass in the front yard had been recently cut. The flowerbeds lining the walkway and the brick front porch were bursting with yellow and red blossoms and leafy, vibrant green leafed plants. The siding was white and instead of like her neighbor's, the shutters on the windows were navy blue instead of brown. Painted to match her front door. She hadn't gotten around to changing her yard décor from spring to summer yet. Oversized Easter eggs hung from the low branches of an ornamental tree planted in a narrow patch of yard between the front porch and her one-car garage. The house was perfect for a single woman. But, if Grant and his wolf had their way, she wouldn't be single for long.

Grant pulled up to the curb and slid the gear into park. Idling there with his window down, his wolf reveling in the scent of her stirring in the breeze and he, his head reeling with thoughts of her, he stared at her house as if it would give him some kind of clue of how to win her heart. It was almost like staring at a photograph and trying to glean knowledge about the person who had snapped the picture. Sure, her tidy little house told him a few things. She thrived on normalcy. And he felt a slight twinge of guilt for his part in turning her neat, orderly, somewhat bland world upside down. But, and maybe for this above all else, he was a shit, he didn't feel guilty enough about coming into her life like a freight train to change his mind.

Patrick hung back. Staying down wind to mask his scent. He didn't know why he was tracking the man or what the man was doing parked in front of the squatty bungalow going all misty eyed. He got the expression of longing on the man's face though. To Patrick, and he was no expert in human behavior by any means, but it looked as if the man was searching for something, and it dangled, so close but yet so far, just beyond his grasp. And how well Patrick knew the feeling. He'd been there so many times with Janine in the past.

"Claire, please don't give up on me. I'll come for you. I promise," Grant whispered. He had to come through for her. Prove that despite her beliefs and his vow to the contrary, she was more than a one night stand. When he'd told her that, he'd meant it. He just hadn't expected to fall so hard or so easily for her. Love would not be easy between the two of them. If Claire thrived on normalcy, which he suspected, she might not be able to handle the strangeness of his world. And he sure as hell couldn't change what he was. The few days of hell he'd experienced with his wolf blinking in and out of existence, with their souls being torn apart, had proven that.

He wanted to give her a normal life without the Pack to come between them. But, he just couldn't. The Pack was his life. And it'd taken him almost losing his family to make him realize it. He couldn't sacrifice one for the other. Without his Pack he was incomplete. And without her he was incomplete. He had to have the both of them in his life or he'd never be whole. Eventually, he'd have to tell Claire of the bizarre nature of what he was. But, only when he was absolutely certain that she loved him enough to look beyond what he was. When she saw him and only him and not the wolf that shared his body.

Unable to bear the agony of being so close to Claire's scent, and not being able to see her. Grant rolled up the window and shifted the truck into gear. He had to figure out a way to fake a past if he was going to have any hopes of creating a future.

The man's words stung Patrick's heart and brought tears to his eyes. God, he was such a sucker for true love. Maybe, he was lethal predator turned sap because of his own battles with amour. He'd let his pride get in the way and because of his idiocy he'd almost lost the only woman he'd ever loved, Janine, his wife. If he hadn't gotten over himself, he would have never gotten the girl. Patrick's instincts told him that the man was definitely over himself and the woman was the only thing that mattered. Patrick wished the guy luck.

Claire's feet were throbbing. She quickly gave report and changed into her old, comfortable clogs. She dismissed her exhaustion to the fact that it was her first week back on the job. And she was already working overtime again. At least, it was an eight-hour day instead of a twelve and she'd be able to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow she'd feel more like her old self again. She opted to take the stairs whether than being cornered by Ginger in the elevator and enduring another round of Q&A. Ginger was relentless in her efforts to get her to spill the goods. This afternoon, Claire just didn't have it in her. She wanted a long soak in the tub, a hot meal, and bed, in that order. And Ginger would want to stand in the hospital foyer talking for hours.

She was almost free. Yards from the wide bank of glass doors exiting the hospital when she heard Thomas call her name. Pasting a very professional nurse smile on her face, she turned and bit back the urge to curse under her breath for having to stay on her feet one second more. "Hi," she said, sounding friendly, although she didn't feel it.

Thomas straightened his tie and ran his hand through his hair. He'd been scouting the hospital foyer for Claire for the last fifteen minutes, trying to catch her before he lost his nerve. He played causal as if their bumping into each other was just a quirky coincidence. On the inside he was nervous as hell, his palms sweaty and his heart racing. "Hey. I'm glad I caught you before you left," he said. His mouth was suddenly dry. And his tie felt like a noose around his neck. He'd practiced what he'd say to her all afternoon. And now that it was go time, he couldn't force his lips to form the words. It was just dinner. Nothing big. But, it felt so damned huge. Like the fate of the entire planet depended on her answer.

"I was thinking about going home and nuking some leftovers for dinner. But, then thought, something hot and fresh sounded so much better than leftover lasagna. I hate to eat out alone, though. It's kind of well...embarrassing. I hate that look people give you. You know, what I'm talking about, don't you?" Thomas asked. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and glanced up sheepishly. Encouraged by the smile on her face and her nod, he took a deep breath. Yeah, Claire knew the look and the way people pretended not to notice you were eating alone. "I hate that. Would you do a starving doctor a favor and go out to dinner with me tonight? Thomas turned on the charm and gave her what his mom always called his 'puppy dog' eyes.

Claire sighed wearily and mentally counted to ten. What was Thomas's deal? He'd ignored her for years and now all of the sudden he wanted to buy her dinner? Her internal dialogue bounced between turning him down flat and sucking it up and accepting his invitation. Be a friend, Claire, she reminded herself. The man just lost his mother. And she had been the one to make the promise to Barbara.

She could eat fast and use having to work tomorrow as an excuse to cut the evening short. It was only an hour or two out of her day anyway. No big deal. No, she didn't want to go out to eat. She'd rather stay home and park her butt on the couch and prop up her aching feet. But, she was trying to be a good friend. And her promise to Barbara hovered over her head. "Sounds great," Claire said, resisting the urge to grind her teeth behind her smile. "Ah, I'm kind of tired tonight though. And I really don't want to get dressed up. How about take out instead?"

"Sure. Can do." Thomas grinned in triumph and stuffed his hand in the pocket of his lab coat. His mom was right. It was his eyes. No woman could say no to his eyes. "What sounds good?"

"Happy's," Claire answered without a second thought. What's the Scoop made killer shakes. But, she wanted real food, or as real as you could get in a fast food wrapper. And Happy's was the best place in town. If she were going to kill her diet, she was going to do it right.

"You know that stuff will kill you," Thomas said with a shudder. He never ate that stuff. In med school, cutting up that cadaver, seeing what decades of eating hamburgers and fries could do to a human body, turned him off of fast food forever. But, for Claire, he'd keep his opinion to himself. She knew too well what eating that stuff did to a person. And it was only one meal. One happy burger deluxe and large fries wasn't going to be the death of her. He hoped.

"Well, then it's a good thing you're a doctor," Claire said. She bit back the urge to chuckle at the horrified expression on Thomas's face when she suggested Happy's for dinner. She knew for a fact doctors were the biggest hypocrites around. Most of them preached nutrition and moderation. But, she'd seen what Thomas kept in his fridge. And he had no right to judge. "Make it a double, extra cheese, loaded, no onion."