Dawn Revealed

There was only one thing the Great Father hated more than flies and that was secrets. He stood and toed the campfire's charred remains to make sure it was out. The Prophet had been hiding something from him for far too long. He would track his brother to the ends of the earth if he thought it would solve the riddle for once and for all. But, it wouldn't. His brother was not one to be pushed about anything. And he wouldn't reveal a thing until he was good and ready.

He could not afford to leave his Sons without his leadership. Things were dire and his men needed him. The Great Father mussed that he had a bit of his brother's second sight. Because somehow he knew hell was about to rain down on their heads. He hadn't felt this particular sensation of dread since the day he led his men onto the battlefield and he died. He could do without this particular worry. And he wouldn't have a need to be worried if his brother hadn't stopped him from killing Roark.

He had the man at the point of his sword and was more than ready to send him to the spirit world. But, no, his brother babbled some nonsense about the time not being right. What the hell? Was there ever a better time to eliminate the enemy than when you had them in your sights? He knew better than to not listen to his brother the almighty Prophet. And he'd let Roark go free. And now, the threat was greater than ever.

It was his job to protect and lead his men. After a lifetime of war, leading men to their deaths was the only thing he knew. He was a strategist. But, Roark was too difficult to predict. He played by no rules. And held no respect for life. There was no telling what he would do to get what he wanted. And currently, that was the heads of the brotherhood on a platter.

There was more than just loyalty that held him to his Sons. He never spoke of the past. And he certainly didn't favor one son over another. But, he loved them all equally. Quite a few of them were direct descendents of his human line. Dane was his great, great, many times great nephew. Will was his great, great, great, so many greats grandson. And John Mark, the resemblance to his youngest son was uncanny. He'd been a father before he became the Great Father. And he always saw after his family.

His family, both human and Son was scattered across the country. This place was special to him, the land of his original home that he sought to protect. But, he had many places to hang his hat and rest his weary head. He visited as often as he could and left leadership of the remote brotherhood to those called to lead. This path was not for everyone. And he'd never begrudge anyone the right to a normal human life. He watched and waited for his brother to guide him to the ones destined to follow in their footsteps.

And there were others, human members dedicated to the cause. He hated to see them age and die. But, much as he begrudged no one the right to a human life, he denied no one who chose it, a natural human death. Alex's parents, Leigh and Alexander, had chosen such a path. Dedicated to their daughter and to the brotherhood, they shared their gift of life. And he, in return, when the time came, would honor their memory.

Passed down from generation to generation from the time this land was as wild and untamed as the people who called it home, Ginger, Lori's quirky mother, was another such human. As a tender young woman, she'd worshiped the ground he walked on and fallen in such deep enamor of him that he'd had no choice but to break her fragile heart. Something he regretted deeply to this day. He could have offered her forever. But, she was too young to understand life in terms of forever. And he could not take that away from her.

He was a leader. And with leadership came great responsibility. He zealously guarded what was his. His Sons. His human family. And a woman just didn't fit into his life. It was too dangerous. He just couldn't afford the risk to her, to the brotherhood, or to himself. His life didn't allow him time for the luxury of a woman's affections. Eternity had a habit of wearing a man down to the marrow of his bones. And going it alone was not easy.

Sometimes, the Great Father wished for a softer, gentler companion than his brother. Someone to share the secrets of his soul with and ease his burdens, someone he could love the way a man and a woman were meant to love. He was not an ugly man. And he could have his pick among many beautiful females. He'd known love and he considered himself fortunate for that. And it was hard to endure eternity alone. But, he'd never found that special woman strong enough...hell, crazy enough, to share a life at his side. And until he did, if such a woman existed, he'd just have to grit his fangs and endure. Prophet or not, he was certain that he was destined to walk his path alone.

In all these years, his brother had never taken a woman as a companion either. At least, not that he knew of. But, of course, maybe that was his brother's secret and the reason behind why he disappeared. A woman would explain a lot. Somehow, the Great Father doubted it though. His brother loved only one woman in his life. And she'd died many, many years ago.

The Great Father scowled at the sun as it crept higher into the morning sky. At its full height, the sun would be unbearable. And although he hated to leave the quiet of this remote place, he had to seek shelter from its blinding rays.

He sniffed the air for traces of his brother's scent. Curious about which direction the man had gone. There was something, a musky undertone beneath the lush smell of pine and farmland. A scent he had not smelled in over a century and one that did not belong here.

Wolves had been driven out of this part of the country long ago. Hunted to near extinction. And this land was not part of Brother Wolf's natural habitat. To his mischievous cousin, Brother Coyote, this was home. But, Brother Wolf preferred secluded places the hand of man had not yet clutched in his fist. But, the Great Father did not doubt what he smelled and it was the pelt of a wolf.

Chapter 10

Kayla knelt in position. Wrists clasped tightly between her fingers, behind her back. Knees parted, slightly wider than her hips. Feet and ankles tucked neatly under her butt. Chin down. Eyes focused on the floor. Mouth open and waiting. Today, Roark wasn't in a particularly kind mood and he'd left her kneeling like this in wait for him for over an hour.

Naked except for a diamond-studded collar around her neck, she shivered from the chill of her bare skin against the hardwood floor. Her legs were numb from lack of circulation. And her back ached from holding the position for so long without relief. But, she didn't dare move a muscle unless he told her to. Frigid air from the air conditioning vents swirled over her skin, puckering her nipples to sharp peaks. He sat in his wingback leather chair with a leg crossed over one knee and his fingers rapping against the arm in silent contemplation. From the vantage point of her downcast eyes all she could see was the toe of his black loafer, tapping out the agonizing minutes of her punishment.

She wanted to scream. And in her mind she did. But, that was exactly what he wanted her to do. Beg him. Her pride knew no sense of self-preservation and she refused to plea for his mercy. She'd done nothing wrong to earn this. And she would not apologize for something when she had no idea what it was. The clock on the mantle above the vacant maw of the fireplace ticked so agonizingly slow. Her muscles shouted and clamored for the slightest bit of relief. She held them rigid and still, maintaining the position. She'd collapse into a heap before she breathed a word of contrition or uttered the slightest whisper for his mercy.

Keene stood in the corner to her right. Stoic and utterly expressionless, only his gray eyes registered the slightest hint of sympathy for her. Shame over her nudity had been beaten out of her long ago. Kayla wanted to lift her chin in defiance. But, she knew better. That too had been beaten out of her. This small act of refusal was the last strand of rebelliousness she had left in her.

She shifted her eyes up to hazard a glance at the antique hands of the mantle clock. Fifteen minutes had passed and her body howled in agony, protesting her stubbornness. Her shoulders were on fire from being held extended behind her back. Hot tears welled beneath her lashes. An hour and fifteen minutes of torment, kneeling at his feet. Finally, Roark stood. The dim light of the room glistened off the tips of his damnable shoes as he closed the narrow distance between them. He mercilessly gripped her hair in his fist and jerked her head up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked in a voice as seductive and sleek as silk against her skin. Before she could answer, he forced her head down to the floor to the tips of his shoes. "Kiss them."

Kayla did the one thing she should have never done. She resisted. Arching her back and twisting her cheek away, she balked at his demand. He jerked her from the floor by the gold ring on the collar. Choking her with the diamond and gold collar worth more than her life. The fury in his eyes seared her all the way to her soul. Her legs numb and unable to support her own weight, she dangled from his grip. "Is a simple gesture of loyalty too much to ask, Kayla? Is it?" he growled. "The sight of you sickens me!" he roared, tossing her to the floor.

She coughed and sputtered, scrabbling to force her stiff joints to bend so that she could resume her position. Stifling her tears, her body quivered with fatigue. He toed her hip with the tip of his shoe and ran it between her thighs to part them. "If only you'd just learn your lesson the first time, I wouldn't have to go to such extreme measures to gain your compliance," he said. Roark's voice was laced with mock concern over her disobedience. "You may go. Keene, send Angel in to assume Kayla's punishment. Shame really," he tsked. "While you lounge under my roof in comfort. Eating the food I provide and wearing the clothing I so carefully choose for you that she should suffer so for your disobedience. But, I can not allow your misdeeds to go unanswered."

"Master no," Kayla gasped. Angel was his newest acquisition. She was untrained. She didn't know. And she would not last five minutes in his private rooms. Kayla bent and pressed kisses to his shoes, tasting the leather and polish on the tip of her tongue as she licked her way over the shiny tops. "Please, forgive me. I'm sorry," she pled, wrapping her arms around the legs of his expensive cashmere dress pants. He shoved her away and gave her a harsh slap across the cheek with the back of his hand.

Trembling, Kayla assumed the position. Her knees cried out in anguish at the chill and the bite of the hardwood floor beneath them. An unwanted tear slid down her burning cheek and dripped from her chin. Her bottom lip quivering as the last of her pride dwindled to a fading spark. She dropped her eyes to his feet and clasped her wrists behind her back. Roark stroked her hair and moved his hand to release the zipper of his fly. "Good girl," he softly whispered.

Kayla snapped awake gasping and clutching the sweat-drenched sheets to her body. Nauseated and trembling, she barely registered the soft knock on her bedroom door. Panting, she pushed back the covers and stood on shaky legs. She could still feel the cold tightness of the collar against her throat. It was just a dream. A nightmare yanked from her memories to replay in horrid detail behind her closed eyes.

She was safe in the compound. Surrounded by familiar walls and people who cared about her. Roark didn't own her. He never had. He was nothing. She needed a minute before she answered the door to pull herself together and wipe away the bitter remnants of the nightmare from her mind. "Hold on a sec," she shouted.

If Bryce had a tail, it would be wagging furiously at the sound of Kayla's voice from the other side of the door. He was proud of himself and was beaming at his powers of persuasion. Convincing Robbie to give Kayla a chance had taken no small amount of begging. Robbie was more protective of that shop than she was of John Mark. But, he'd finally won her over, thanks to his incessant badgering and the fact that he was going to be on her ass like a festering boil until she agreed to hire Kayla.

Grinning like a schoolboy with a crush on his kindergarten teacher, Bryce clutched the neon green 'What's the Scoop' t-shirt in his fist. Today was going to be Kayla's first day of gainful employment. Impatient to share his surprise, he knocked on the door again.

Hands still trembling from the horror of her dream, Kayla fastened the belt of her robe firmly around her waist. Only one person was brave or stupid enough to pound on her door so incessantly at this ungodly hour of the morning. Bryce had better have a good reason for waking her up. Gritting her teeth to keep from being a total bitch to him, she yanked open her bedroom door and blinked against the blinding neon green t-shirt he held in front of her face.

"Good morning, beautiful. You have to be at work in two hours," he said.

Kayla pushed the hem of the t-shirt to the side and stared at Bryce. "You mean?" She blinked in disbelief at the number of favors he must have called in to pull this off. She had no employment history. Hell, she wasn't sure if she still had a social security number.

"Surprise! You just became an official wage earning, tax paying member of society. You have a job!" Bryce chuckled at the shock registering on Kayla's pretty face. Her eyes were puffy and heavily lidded with sleep. Her hair was tousled and stuck up at odd angles. And a sheet wrinkle marred her left cheek. Her robe and nightgown hung at an odd angle from her shoulders. Maybe, if she'd awakened in his bed, wrapped in his arms, she could look even more beautiful than she did right now. But, he doubted it.

Kayla snatched the t-shirt from Bryce's hands and smoothed out the wrinkles with her fingertips as she folded it. Neon green looked good with her blonde hair and her tan. The cartoon ice cream cone embroidered on the t-shirt smiled sappily up at her. She'd never worn a work uniform before. She'd never had a real job before. And like all good things, there had to be a catch to this. "How much do I get paid an hour?" She had no idea what minimum wage was. "When do I get paid?"

"Um, I don't know. I didn't think to ask Robbie," Bryce answered. He hadn't considered Kayla might actually want to know how much money she made. But, it made sense that she would. He didn't worry about things like paychecks and hourly rates. The brotherhood provided him with whatever he needed. He received a small stipend to cover any extras he might want. As far as sweating it from one paycheck to the next or budgeting for necessities, he'd never had to worry about things like that. Somebody around here did. He just didn't know whom.

"The one thing I do know though is that you'd better get moving. Robbie runs a tight ship and when she says be there at nine thirty on the dot, she means it. You don't want to get fired on your first day. So shake a leg,"

Chapter 11

Kayla stood on the other side of the counter. Her mind was swimming in malts, shakes, slushies, and cones. She never realized how many different flavors and types there were. Robbie was very patient with her. Never yelling whenever she'd make a mistake, and there were a few. Those damned little curlicues that Robbie made on the end of each cone were impossible to duplicate. Hers turned out more like lopsided O's than actual Q's, if they turned out to be anything other than a blob at the tip. Robbie assured her that she would get the hang of it. But, Kayla wasn't so sure.

Bryce had driven her into town and dropped her off promptly at nine thirty. He'd had to practically shove her out of the SUV and drag her into the shop. She'd just been so nervous she couldn't get her feet to move. He'd done this for her. And she was certain she was going to screw it up. She'd had no experience at anything. And the one thing she had, sure as hell wasn't making curlicues out of soft serve.

By the time Robbie declared her fit to run the ice cream machine, the slushie maker, and the cash register, Kayla had gained a small amount of much needed confidence. Wiping her hands on the apron around her waist, Kayla grinned at Janine in triumph. Robbie opened the shop for business at eleven AM sharp. And Janine was the first customer of the day. "I think I got it right this time," Kayla said, handing Janine a chocolate shake complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. It had taken her two tries to fill Janine's order. Who knew making the perfect milk shake took so much skill?

"I swear this is my last one. Ever," Janine said. Ice cream dribbled down the side of the cup and onto her fingers. Kayla had a lot to learn. "After this, I'm on the wagon." She took a gingerly sip and smiled. "Perfect."

"I still can't get over it, five bucks for a milkshake," Patrick playfully grouched. Unwrapping his arm from around Janine's shoulders and fished a ten out of his wallet. "Hopefully, this time I won't wear it."

"Its too good to waste on the likes of you." Janine snickered fondly recalling the argument with Patrick that resulted in her tossing a large chocolate shake in his face. She could feel her ass growing wider with each swallow. But, it was really, really good and she wasn't one to throw food away. "See ya." She winked as she waltzed out the door with her hand casually tucked into Patrick's back pocket.

"Well, how am I doing for my first day?" Kayla asked nervously. Not wanting to disappoint Bryce. She was trying as hard as she could to do a good job and give Robbie no cause to regret hiring her.

"I'm suitably impressed. You're a fast learner," Robbie replied. Kayla was a hard worker. And Bryce had been right on the money when he sung her praises. The curlicues would come in time. She wasn't worried about it. She loosened her shimmering red hair from its tight bun and shook it out in a wavy cascade over her shoulders. "In fact, I'm going to leave you to it. I'll be in the back if you need anything."

"Thanks," Kayla said, blushing at the praise. It meant more to her than Robbie realized. Determined to earn her keep and her seven dollars and twenty-five cents an hour, she grabbed a rag and scrubbed at a spot of hot fudge on the counter.

Kayla couldn't help but notice the hilt of a dagger bulging beneath Robbie's slightly oversized hot pink t-shirt. Kayla knew bits and pieces about Robbie. Small talk she'd overheard at the compound. Robbie was John Mark's wife. And she was a warrior, like him. Robbie had fought in the trials, gone a round of hand-to-hand combat with Keene and she'd kicked his ass. Which in Kayla's opinion meant the woman could handle herself just fine. She also knew that Robbie had inherited the shop from her parents after they were killed in an accident.

Kayla understood Robbie's pain over losing her parents. She too had lost her mom and dad way too soon. Her mother died of cancer and a big part of the man her father had been died with her. Shortly after her death, he became withdrawn and abusive, especially towards his only daughter. He preferred to pretend that she didn't exist. Except for when he drank, and then he turned the full force of his rage on losing his wife on her. . His neglect drove Kayla to the streets. If life was but a dream, life on the streets was a nightmare. In a way, she should be thankful to Roark. If he hadn't come across her when he had, one of the other bottom feeders would have.

At first Roark was the answer to her prayers. He took her in, fed her, and clothed her. He vehemently forbade drugs or alcohol in his home. It didn't take her long though to realize that her new luxurious lifestyle came at a price. A price paid with her body and her blood. But, it was better than living on the streets and surviving by sheer luck.