Dawn Released

A growl of approval escaped his lips when she wrapped her legs around his waist and her fingers skated down his chest to the waistband of his jeans, searching him out with desperate hands. He looked down at her. Her black hair was tinted with strands of silver, fanning out across the pillows in a tangled mass. Her cheeks were reddened in a heated blush. Her lips were full and bruised from the passion of his kiss. Her breasts heaved. The ripe nipples brushed against his chest with every breath she took. He'd stripped off her clothes and she was unashamed, spread wide beneath him. Her eyes burned with desire behind heavy lids and thick curling lashes. He could take her here and now. End their combined suffering. He wanted to. She wanted him to. Slowly he bent to kiss her lips. Gently swabbing his tongue across hers. "Shh, Eloise."

"I need you," Eloise rasped. Whimpering with the pain of her desire, she bucked her hips against the bulging zipper of his jeans. The friction rubbed her clit and sent her spiraling so close to the edge. Panting she rode him for whatever relief she could get. "I have to." Her thighs tightened around his waist, pinning his hard erection to the soft, wetness of her core. "Please, don't stop." She bucked against him with wild undulations of her hips, clinging to him with her trembling arms. "It hurts so bad. You have to make it stop."

"Shh, Eloise, I will." He knew just exactly how badly the fire of her heat was consuming her. He felt it too. His body cried out as he disengaged from her embrace. His cock cried one single tear for her as cool air and the pressure of the tightness of his jeans replaced the soft, wet, friction of her undulating against him, so close to coming for him it hurt. Easing down beside her, with soft strokes he trailed his fingers down the length of her firm thighs and gently parted them. Groaning from the tension of restraining himself, he thumbed the hard nub in full arousal at the apex of her sex. He would not take away her choices and by joining them together in body, he'd do just that. Eloise was a woman who deserved to be free, without boundaries. Determined to ease her suffering, he plunged two fingers into her core as he massaged her clit, working her orgasm to the point of no return. She was close, so close. "That's it Eloise, you can let go. I'll protect you. I've got you," he whispered.

Eloise clutched at Nash's shoulders, digging nails into the flesh. His long, careful strokes drove her past the point of madness. His touch was gentle, yet demanding. She whimpered and heaved as his fingers parted the tender flesh of her core and dipped inside. Stroking the tender, swollen length of her until she shuddered with need. Gentle, soft kisses trailed down the plane of her stomach, lower and lower until he kissed the throbbing aching nub beneath his thumb. The tip of his tongue teased and suckled the tender bit of flesh as his fingers stroked and dove deep inside of her, coaxing her body as he consumed every drop of her desire.

Eloise's skin was hot and smooth as silk. Her thighs rested, one on each of his broad shoulders. The muscles of her thighs flexed as her hips bucked, rubbing her sex against his lips to seek out the relief she so desperately needed. He stroked and lapped hungrily at her arousal. The intensity of her desire, and the erotic sweet honey taste of her drove him to the point of absolute mindless insanity. He couldn't leave her suffering. But, he was suffering from the severity of his need to protect her dignity and her hard earned freedom. She wanted him for the moment. For him, one brief pass of the second hand around the face of the clock wasn't going to be enough. He wanted it all. Everything. If he couldn't have everything, he'd rather suffer as a sacrificial lamb than indulge and see nothing but regret in her eyes when she looked at him.

Eloise ground hard against Nash. Clutching at the back of his head and tugging on his hair as he explored, lapped, tasted, and suckled every throbbing, swollen inch of her. His hands were fire. His tongue flames consuming her with heat. Her back arched as she flexed her hips up to meet the hungry strokes of his fingers and eager pass of his lips and tongue. Every nerve ending was stretched so tightly. Her skin felt too tight for her body beneath the feather light strokes of his fingers. Her breaths were a series of needful pants and her lips pursed as moans of pleasure escaped them.

She was going to explode outward. She was going to implode and fold in on herself. Time and space were drawn into a vacuum and stars collided behind her closed eyes as her body tensed. So close. So close. She panted and cried out unable to contain the pleasure he gave her. Nash's whispers of encouragement and desire burned hot across her sensitive skin. Finally, the painful pleasure of the stroke of his fingers and lapping, suckling of his tongue became too much to bear and the release tore through her body, spreading out from her core and down her limbs like liquid fire, scorching her skin to ash.

Nash licked his lips. Tasting her on his skin did little to ease the fire racing through his veins. Every swallow of her flavor went straight to his hard, pulsating, throbbing, intolerably swollen cock. He eased out from between the juncture of her thighs and stretched out beside her. Wrapping her tightly in the quilt and enveloping her quivering body in the warmth of his arms, he waited for the storm raging within the both of them to pass.

Her breath skated across his bare chest, singing him with its heat. Gently, he cupped the back of her head and pressed her to his beating heart. Stroking her silky hair with his fingers, he whispered, "All better, now. The worst is over." Brushing his thumb over her closed eyelids, he felt the tickle of her lashes against the calloused skin. He barely breathed as her body relaxed and molded against his and she sank into a deep and fitful sleep. "I've got you, Eloise. Always."

Chapter 43

The wolves were battered and worn down. The older wolf charged the younger wolf, still dangerous and lethal, but slower and with labored, clumsy steps. The younger wolf was exhausted as well. He countered every attack, launching counter attacks with speed and skill against the bruit force of the older wolf's onslaught. The younger wolf had the fire of determination and the zeal of youth on his side. The older wolf had decades of experience finely honed in battle on his side. At this point, it was a waiting game to see which one would give in to exhaustion and fatigue first.

The older wolf launched his big body into the air. Knowing if it didn't finish this soon he would wear down and falter. The younger wolf countered. Driving its fangs deep into the flesh of the older wolf as he clamped down into flesh with powerful jaws. Shaking the older wolf in his teeth, refusing to release his purchase on the wolf's scruff as the blood flowed freely into his mouth. He shook and dragged the older wolf across the platform by the neck. Leaving a bloody trail of gore in his wake.

The older wolf howled and kicked. Digging at the younger wolf with lethally sharp claws as he scrabbled to get a footing on the blood slicked wood of the platform. His nails slid across the wood. Weakened, the old wolf stilled and gave up the fight, using his heavy weight to break the hold of the younger wolf's jaws on his flesh.

The younger wolf was forced to break his hold on his prey. He braced for an attack that never came. The older wolf panted and bled on the platform. His labored breaths rasped in painful, gurgling gasps. The younger wolf whimpered and cocked his ears forward, gingerly inching closer, on guard, and bristled against a trap. The old wolf was wily and resourceful and his cunning and brutality knew no limits.

The older wolf held absolutely still as the young wolf's black nose sniffed and poked at his heaving body. A cautious, pink tongue slicked across his muzzle, tasting the blood of victory. Fury charged the older wolf and with a surge of energy fueled by the rage, he snapped with lethal jaws, clamping down hard, his teeth finding purchase in the young wolf's ear.

The younger wolf yipped in surprise. Driven by instinct and defense he attacked. Ripping and tearing at the throat of the older wolf with powerful jaws, widening wounds that drizzled bright red blood onto the wood until the blood stopped and the wolf was no more.

The older wolf felt its life slip away drop by drop. Succumbing to the force and lethal power of the younger wolf's teeth. He was sucked into a thick, heavy blackness that weighted his limbs and stilled his breathing until the wolf was no more. Death consumed the wolf and swept him up in greedy clutches.

Torr awoke, battered, bleeding, and naked on the platform. The body of his father lay limp and lifeless beside him. Torr crawled over to the man he called father and cradled his head in his lap. His shoulders racked with heavy sobs as he mourned the man he'd hated with such fervent bitterness all these long years. It was over. His father couldn't hurt him or anyone else ever again. Yet the victory was bittersweet. He was safe. He'd rescued his pack from the terror of his father's reign. But, he felt empty and alone. Lost without the hatred and fear that had fueled his existence for so long. He lifted his head up and wailed into the night sky. Holding his father's lifeless body until the flesh grew cold in his arms.

Torr crouched at his father's side, staring into the lifeless eyes. Wondering what might have been if his father had loved him and accepted him for who he was. His father was a cruel, heartless, bastard that was bent on absolute control of every aspect of his life and every person his world touched. Torr had no misgivings about that. "Did you ever love me?" he asked. "Was I ever good enough?" He laughed bitterly, squeezing the cold, gray, clay like face of his father's corpse with his palms.

The pale light of dawn glistened on the dew-covered platform, turning the dried blood into crystals of shimmering red and bronze. Torr knew he should let his father go, but he couldn't. The only thing he'd ever wanted was the one thing he'd never receive from the dead man. Love. He wondered if his father was proud of him now. If he'd, in his father's final moments, finally at least earned respect.

His father's love? No, Torr would never have that. It was simply too much to ask of his father to love him. And it pained Torr that as much as he had tried to earn his father's love, he never had. The truth formed a hard and bitter knot in Torr's throat. He had loved his father. Despite his harsh cruelty, he had truly and genuinely loved the man. Even though, he'd never receive love from him in return. Torr's tears fell onto the pale lifeless skin in a torrent of pain. Tears of regret and agony, bitterness and sorrow washed over Seff's dead body like a cleansing rain.

When he was out of tears, out of doubts about what he'd done, and out of regrets, Torr released his hold on his father's lifeless shell. Gently, resting his father's head on the wooden platform constructed by his greed and quest for power, Torr closed the man's eyes. He had finished his bitter mourning and shed his last tear. His father was dead.

Maybe, once upon a time there had been a good man, a loving man, who lived with passion and a zeal for life. But, the twisted, power hungry man Torr knew murdered the father Seff could have been long ago. Torr stood on weak and wobbly legs, shivering in the last remnants of winter's chill. Staring down at the empty shell that was his father, he said, "Goodbye father. For what it was worth, even though you couldn't love me. I still loved you with everything I had."

Torr turned away and never looked back as he crossed the platform and climbed down the stairs. Naked, with the daylight thawing his frozen skin, he stared up into the golden light of dawn. He was a pack master now, master of a world of ruins and ash, and of pain and blood.

Chapter 44

Kacie sat on the dirt next to Tristen with her chin resting on her knees, watching the smoke rise from the charred remains of her life through the chain link fence and the thin outline of spindly trees. Everything she knew had fallen and lay in a pile of smoldering remains. A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. She wiped it on the knee of her torn, bloody pants, hoping Tristen hadn't seen.

Her skin and the corners of her mind smoldered and burned with hot embers. Bitterly reminding her of the price she'd paid to be whole again. Carter's thoughts were like the whisper of an arctic wind, blowing into the dark recesses of her consciousness. She'd never felt such cold as she did from the breeze of her connection to him.

All around her was the buzz of activity. She heard the whispered din of conversation. Anxious mothers held their children tightly. Fathers comforted wives. All anyone wanted to do was to go home. But, none of them knew if there was a home left for them to go back to. No one had heard who had won the battle. There was much speculation over who the new pack master would be.

Some guessed Torr, some, Seff. Her heart sank, of her mother and her former status as pack mistress, not a word. Eloise's time had come and gone. Kacie realized that long before the pack did. To her, this place wasn't her home, not any more. A flood of bitter tears rolled down her cheek as she mourned the life she'd lost. She didn't belong here and neither did her mother. She looked up to the sound of feet rustling through dried winter underbrush and thistle. A shape began to take form through the dense morning mists and heavy, low clouds of smoke. Torr, battered, bloodied, and bruised, emerged from the woods.

Torr dropped to his knees from exhaustion in front of the fence. Clutching at the links with his fingers to remain upright, he stared out through the crisscross of metal into the disheveled, weary faces of the pack. He had set them free. A part of him had died along with his father. The cost he paid for the price of their freedom took a heavy toll on them. He rested his forehead on the cold, steel links and cried. The tears were not of mourning or those of joy. They were tears of simple relief. For him, his long struggle had finally ended and he'd survived it to walk away, not unscathed, but he was upright and walking.

This pack wasn't his to lead. The pack, if truth be told had never belonged to anybody, not his father, and not Eloise. His father was blinded by greed and power. It truly was a pity that he'd never seen the reality of the truth before it had cost him his life. This pack was bound by something more than its leader. The pack was bound together through brotherhood and blood. The lives within it belonged to each other and nobody else. For the first time, they had the ability to control their own destinies. Where those destinies would lead them was entirely up to them.

Kacie scrambled across the dirt to the fence. Locking her fingers with Torr's through the links, she rested her forehead against his. The cold of the fence contrasted with the warmth of his skin and the heat of his tears. Their tears fell and mingled as one.

"I've had enough of fences," Torr choked out through the tightness in his throat.

"Me too." Kacie gave Torr's fingers a squeeze. "Let's tear it down."

Torr chuckled bitterly. The answer, in the end, was so simple. Tear down the fence. He gripped the chain link with his fingers and hauled his exhausted body up onto his feet. "Agreed."

Torr wondered if the world was ready for the pack or the pack ready for the world. Then he realized the pack would do what wolves did best. They'd adapt. He walked over the fallen portion of fence the pack had managed to wrest free from the steel poles driven deep in the earth. Bringing down the fence would take no small amount of energy, but where there was a will, there was a way.

The pack roared with enthusiasm as word of their freedom passed from between them. They made plans to tear down the fence that had kept them isolated from the world for so very long. No longer would they be separate from the bigger whole that went on around them. From now on, they'd be part of it. Faithful to each other, but, free to roam and explore all the greatness that life and the world had to offer.

Chapter 45

Eloise stretched and yawned as her heavy lids opened to greet a new day. She felt fantastic. The storm of the heat had passed and she was finally beginning to return to her normal self again. She sat up, startled by her unfamiliar surroundings. Bright rays of morning sun flooded the bedroom's simple interior. Slowly, she began to riffle through her memory and piece together the sketchy details of last night. So many of them, she wanted to forget.

The Grand Manor was nothing but a pile of smoldering ash. Everything she'd thought meant something was gone. She rested her chin on her knees. The quilt was soft against her cheek, warm and comforting. She'd been rescued from the burning room, by Nash, a vampire, Tracker, Catcher, and a boy. They'd risked their lives for her. Her body stiffened in terror. They shouldn't have bothered. She was far from safe. Seff was out there somewhere and he would be back for her to finish what he'd started.

Limbs stirred beneath the covers. Of all the memories of last night, the memory of their time together was one she didn't want to forget, ever. He'd anchored her during the worst of her storm with gentle hands and kind words without hesitation. He'd given her everything she needed and thought nothing of his own needs. He hadn't tasted of the fruit she offered, taken a sampling, yes. But, truly devoured all she'd laid on his plate, no.

Her brows pulled down in a scowl. Why? Why hadn't he? Wasn't she good enough? She stared down at him in confusion. She wanted to give him a hard poke in the ribs and ask him why he hadn't. Any other male would have jumped at the chance. Just exactly what was it that he found so repulsive about her?

He looked so peaceful and content laying next to her. Stretched out on his side, turned toward her, facing her. His arm was curled up under his pillow. Sleep erased the careful, guarded expression he wore. He looked almost boyish and innocent. Locks of hair draped across his chin and fluttered in the breath from his parted lips. Gently, she reached over and brushed the strands away from his face before the hair fell into his slack mouth. Tracing her fingers across his stubble lined chin, she wondered what it was he dreamed about.

The blankets were gathered around his waist in a wad, revealing a broad bare chest and the very ends of a long, swirling indigo tattoo that scrolled across his back and over his shoulders. She withdrew her hand as his eyes snapped open, pinning her in his deep golden brown stare. She could have sworn, despite evidence to the contrary, that she saw interest flicker in their depths.

Nash stretched and yawned contentedly. He'd never had such a good night's sleep. In a way he wished he'd never woken up, but waking up next to Eloise made it all worth it. Reaching out, his fingers locked around hers. Slowly and carefully he pulled her hand toward him and lowered her petite fingers to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Hi."

He didn't know what had transpired in the complex after he and Eloise arrived in their haven of safety and he wasn't so sure he wanted to find out. Thoughts of everything and everyone but her had been pushed aside in the heated rush of last night. Sometimes, it was nice to shirk the responsibilities that rode on his shoulders and be normal. See only what was directly in front of him, and nothing else. Even if he had to pretend he was just an ordinary man, and she an ordinary woman. The reprieve had been a welcome one, as brief as it had been. The way she clutched the blankets around her chest tightly knotted in her fists and the lines of worry etched across her brow told him that the vacation was over.