Dawn Unleashed

Cole's hand pressed at the small of her back, reassuring in its pressure against her spine. He steered her through the crowd mulling around the doors. He cut a path through the students like Moses through the Red Sea. This was a small town and an even smaller high school and someone as imposing as Cole was hard to miss. Some stared at him openly. Some, covertly, averting their gazes when he met their eyes. The band played and a few managed to dance, awkwardly and badly, distracted by the bigness of Cole's presence in the confines of the gym.

Maggie had always seen the gym, the smell of wax and sweat, as a place of torture. Endless hours of forced exercise and running, running, running always running up and down the wooden floors in gym class, fumbling with a basketball, dodging a volleyball, or failing the president's national fitness test, year after year. She sucked at sports.

Tonight, the smell of sweat was disguised by an array of perfumes and colognes. The bleachers had been pushed against the wall to make room for a small gathering of tables, covered in brightly colored paper tablecloths. Streamers, she knew there'd be an ocean of them, hung in coordinating hues of blue, green, red, and purple from the beams high above. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of strands of clear bulbs, Christmas lights, hung from the rafters, mixed with the streamers, glittering like stars down on the students.

A disco ball, borrowed from the town's one and only nightclub shone rays of light across the crowd, catching the glimmer of sequins and rhinestones and throwing their brilliance across the dance floor in the shimmer of glittering fairy wings. The music thumped and thrummed through her body, way too loud, with way too much bass. Her classmates bobbed and weaved to hip hop, dancing as badly as the band played.

A refreshment table had been set up in the narrow space between the girl's and boy's bathrooms. The usual red punch and stale cookies were being faithfully patrolled by one of the school's many chaperones. Couldn't have someone spiking the punch and risk making it palpable.

No, the school board didn't want fifty tipsy seniors on their hands. So, the guard stayed her post. She was a graying older woman, slightly hunched at the shoulders. Stockings bunched around her bloated ankles and polished, sensible shoes. Mrs. Drake had been the scourge of American History for as long as anyone could remember. Embarrassingly enough, she'd been demoted to punch patrol.

The theme of the prom, Maggie could only guess. So many of the decorations were reused year after year that they'd become a miss match of different themes and color schemes. The shabby decorations, the bad music, and the stares of her classmates on her back didn't matter. The skittering of butterflies in her stomach had nothing to do with any of them at all. The night was made of magic that went far beyond the decorations, music, and lights. Cole, the heat of his palm against her skin, the sureness in which he guided her through the crowd, and the way, he looked at her, with absolute adoration, created a magic all of its own.

Cole had her on the dance floor before she'd realized that they'd walked the entire length of the gym. His grace, as he twirled her through the crowd, compensated for her awkwardness in the dress and the heels. He supported her weight, never once letting her stumble or trip over her feet. Never once did his command of her body give hint to the fact that she couldn't dance a step. "My mom made me take ballroom dance lessons," he explained, guiding her in an expert turn closer to his body.

Cole stared down at Maggie. The glittering lights played over the curve of her cheeks and lent her skin a sheen that was almost mystical. He caught no sense of danger in the air. Just the scent of teenage angst mixed with the aroma of decades of old wax, and the smell of sweat that no matter how many layers of paint or how many gallons of cleaners used in the gym, never seemed to fade. His guard was far from being completely down. But, he relaxed enough, for Maggie's sake, to put her at ease. A sigh escaped her lips as she rested her head on his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered the last time he was in a gym. Rachael's funeral had been so big, so well attended that her parents had given up their final private moments with their daughter for a memorial service in a cold, harsh smelling, impersonal gymnasium. Underneath the stiffness of his starched collar and tight bow tie, he felt her cross pressing into the hollow of his throat. Even in a moment of happiness such as this, he never forgot her. Never.

He clutched Maggie closer to his body. Losing himself in her scent for a few stolen moments. Chasing away his pain with her comforting smell. She was soft, relaxed and pliable, so warm and alive in his arms. He pushed the wave of sadness over Rachael's loss away and grabbed onto the promise of happiness he found wrapped in his arms.

The music changed tempo from a slow number to a very fast beat. Cole led Maggie from the dance floor and over to an empty table. The tables were going fast. Many couples lined up for pictures. Some mulled at the refreshment table, chatting over punch. Some hovered around the ballot box, casting their vote for king and queen. The aura was one of a party that was just beginning to wind up for the evening. "Do you want some punch?" Cole asked, after Maggie was suitably seated.

Maggie glanced up at Cole and nodded. She caught the twinge of sadness he creatively hid behind a smile. It was just the briefest of sensations, shared between them, and then it was gone. Cut off from her by his sheer determination. She was going to ask him about it, later. For the moment, she sensed his happiness and reveled in its warmth. Tonight was not the night for deep and meaningful discussions or revelations. Seeing herself in the mirror the way Cole saw her, had been revelation enough.

"Sure." She watched him navigate through the crowd in a graceful manner she'd never muster. The view of his backside wasn't half bad either. Blushing, she turned away, averting her eyes as she caught him knowingly grin at her over the broad line of his shoulder.

Glenn could not believe Maggie actually showed up to the prom with a date. Looked like he was going to owe his friends twenty bucks after all. He'd been planning to buy a new set of speakers with his earnings. Instead, he'd lost the bet.

Glenn glowered at Maggie and her date from a dark corner of the gym. The big son of a bitch out weighed him by at least forty pounds, and none of it was fat. The bastard was taller by half a foot. Glenn knew he was outclassed in every way where Maggie's date was concerned. Maybe it was the booze he'd snuck in that gave him courage. Maybe, it was the jealousy that consumed every fiber of his frazzled brain. Maybe, he was just that dumb to cause trouble at a school function. But, he couldn't let Maggie have the last word, especially with graduation a few weeks away. He had a reputation to maintain. Besides, he hadn't forgotten the milkshake incident. He owed this punk.

He waited until the guy was hip deep in line for the punch bowl. The senile assed teacher hadn't seen a thing when he'd snuck over and spiked the punch. Weaving through the crowd, he made his way to the table where Maggie sat, so prissily in her party dress and high heels. "I didn't think he'd ever leave. Where'd you dig him up Magpie? Jocks R Us?"

Maggie glared up at Glenn. It was so obvious that he'd come over to start trouble. His words were slurred and his breath was sweet and heavy with the fruity scent of alcohol. "What do you want, Glenn?" she asked, hoping to get rid of him before Cole got back with the punch.

Glenn grinned and weaved on his feet. He had to do this right. If he didn't throw the first punch, but appeared a helpless, no not helpless, but hapless victim defending himself, he wouldn't get in trouble when he mopped the floor with the guy's ass. It would be self-defense and the whole school would revere him. "How 'bout a dance, Magpie? For old time's sake." He held out his hand to Maggie. Groping her on the dance floor was sure to piss off her date. If that didn't work, he had plenty of other tricks up his sleeve.

Maggie glowered up at Glenn and shook her head, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. He was unabashedly staring down the neckline of her dress and she felt self-conscious as hell. Her mind flicked through countless scenarios of how this wonderful night could end badly, so badly, if she didn't get rid of him quickly. The thing to do would be to just get up and walk away. Go hang out with a gaggle of her old girlfriends or better yet, hang out with one of the teachers. Glenn wouldn't go near a teacher reeking like alcohol. Instead, she stayed planted in the hard, metal folding chair. "I don't think that's a good idea. My date wouldn't like it."

Glenn snickered, "Your date. How much did you have to pay for someone like that to go out with someone like you?" He stared her up and down depreciatingly. Maggie looked good tonight, better than he'd ever seen her. But, he wasn't going to admit it and he wasn't going to give in. He was itching for a fight and her date was the perfect target.

"What?" Maggie sprang to her feet. As soon as she was balanced on the heels she wasn't accustomed to wearing, she regretted getting up. Glenn's hands were all over her, smoothing down her bare arms, wrapping around her waist, and dragging her toward the dance floor. "Stop it. I don't want to dance with you. Ever." The more she twisted the harder his grip became. She teetered precariously on the spikes of her heels.

Cole danced through the crowd gracefully as a cat. He saw the guy hassling Maggie, pawing and groping at her as if she were a piece of meat. Anger and outrage almost made him forget one very important thing. He had to pretend to be human. Tonight of all nights, he was just an ordinary kid on a date.

Cole could give him the fight of his life. But, he would not ruin Maggie's prom. With one punch, this idiot would never hassle anyone again. Cole could put him down permanently. So much more was the danger. One momentary lapse of control would land the kid in a mortuary.

Cole had to play human, yet not give in to his human side. The part of him that screamed for justice, that longed to teach this drunk jackass clumsily groping at Maggie, stirring up trouble for trouble's sake; the human part of him that was in every way still a hormonal post-adolescent boy, he had to control. He had to pretend to be human in his movements and mannerisms, trip over his feet occasionally, move so slowly that the sequence of the motion of his limbs was unnatural to him, but, he couldn't BE human and give in to his emotions. Tomorrow, the kid would wake up with one hell of a hangover and probably not remember a damned thing. If Cole lost control, hurt the kid, damaged him beyond repair, he'd have to live with it for the rest of his very long life.

Slowly, his shrewd eyes locked on Glenn, Cole set the plastic cup of punch on the table. "Do we have a problem?" The kid flinched in reflex, as Cole let his predator slip, just a little, from behind its mask of human flesh.

Glenn stiffened and jutted out his chin. Possessively, he wrapped his arm tighter around Maggie's waist and pulled her closer against him. Maggie stiffened in his arms, bowing her spine to keep their bodies from pressing against one another. He gripped her waist even harder, securing her butt snugly against his hip.

The guy showed not the least bit of rage or jealousy, he stood there watching him paw Maggie with almost cool indifference. Glenn had to get a reaction out of him. Had to say or do something to make him throw the first punch. "She's good isn't she, or hasn't she let you fuck her yet? I taught her everything she knows. Didn't I, Magpie," Glenn ran his fingers along the thin strap of Maggie's gown, leering down the front of her dress. "She's a little hard to coax into giving up the goods, but when she finally does, she's a fantastic fuck."

"You asshole!" Maggie twisted and reared out of Glenn's grip. He swayed drunkenly in the wake of her absence from his hands. Her face burned with a hot rush of embarrassment and mortification. Tears of, not shame, but utter humiliation at Glenn's statement welled in her eyes. The subject had never come up and neither Cole nor she had mentioned it. But the last thing she wanted him to hear was her ex-boyfriend bragging about how good she was in the sack and about how he'd taught her everything she knew. Maggie stepped well out of either one of the boy's reach and hugged her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

Cole wanted to pound this idiot into the ground. Maggie stood as far away from him as the press of the ever-growing crowd of onlookers and the table behind her would allow. Her face was glowing in a heated blush of shame and tears glittered in her eyes. She was doing her best not to cry. That burned him and fired his need to wipe the smug grin off this kid's face with his fist far more than any insult done to him or any spark of jealousy the kid might have tried to fan with his outrageous statements.

The subject of sex had never come up between Maggie and he. He was hardly one to throw stones when it came to sexual experience. He would never judge or think less of Maggie no matter what her history had been. The past didn't matter. All the girls he'd been with didn't matter. All that did was the here and now and getting this jack off the hell out of here before he completely ruined what was left of Maggie's special night. Cole clenched his fingers into fists and clamped down tight on his rage. "So, you're an expert at head jobs. Had a lot of experience getting the technique down? I heard that about you."

Glenn fumed and stammered. He had no snappy come back, just his anger at the crowd's collective snicker. Bastard. Balling up his meaty fist, he took a haphazard swing and missed stumbling into the ring of spectators. The glossy, wood floor of the gym came up hard to meet him as he fell, landing with a solid thud. A round of nausea from the impact had him heaving and hiccupping on his hands and knees.

Chapter 120

Mack stood at the back of the gym and watched the crowd of teens slowly gather around the two boys. He didn't believe in interfering, better to let the kids settle things for themselves nice and peaceably, if they could. They never did and the world had changed so much since he first started on the force. He couldn't risk letting the boys take it outside and settle it with their fists like men. The threat of violence was too real.

Every year. Every damn year there was a fight and some hothead ended up in his lockup for the rest of the night. He pushed his wide brimmed sheriff's hat back on his head and sauntered over to break it up. Amazing how quickly a bunch of kids could scatter when the law came to call. "Boys, what's the problem here?"

The smell of alcohol reeked. Mack may not have as sensitive of a nose as one of the Sons, but he knew the fruity whiskey smell of Jack Daniels when he smelled it. Every year, some kid, sometimes a few kids, pushed their luck just a little too far. In his head, Mack counted the months left till retirement. Damn, he was ready for the golden years to start.

Mack nodded at Cole and crouched beside Glenn. The cuffs were already in his hands and locked around Glenn's wrists before the kid could raise too much a protest. Glenn was a good kid, too rambunctious a little cocky and apparently, a lot stupid, but a good kid. With Cole's help, he hefted Glenn onto his feet and steered him out of the gym. He'd take the kid down to the station, lock him in a cell till he sobered up to scare the shit out of him, and then send him home. Mack knew Glenn's dad. The courts would be too lenient compared to what the kid's father would do to him when he got him home. Glenn's father had about two hundred head of cattle and if that wasn't a lot of shit to shovel, Mack didn't know what was.

Maggie was relieved when the crowd dissipated and she was left alone with Cole. The lights on the dance floor had dimmed and a slow song with a sultry beat whispered softly over the speakers. This song, the band didn't botch too badly and bodies swayed back and forth. Taffeta, satin, and lace rustled against tuxedos in time to the rhythm. She felt like she should explain her past to Cole. Account for the mistakes she'd made with Glenn. It was only a few times and none of them had been necessarily good. Bad enough that she'd considered giving up on sex and men all together. Cole couldn't be too mad about that. She didn't even know him then and she thought she was in love with Glenn when it happened. It was a mistake, just a simple mistake. "Cole, I'm sorry..."

Cole cut Maggie off with a wave of his hand and drew her close. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and led her onto the dance floor. News of the almost fight was already dying down to a whisper. There was still hope that he could salvage the rest of their night together. "They're playing our song."

Maggie folded her body against Cole's and rested her head on his broad chest. Their bodies swayed in time to the music. Her fingers played with the shaggy fringe of his hair. The lights glimmered in hues of gold and red on the silky strands. "You're not mad because I didn't tell you?"

Cole drew Maggie even closer. So much as a millimeter between them was too far apart. She felt guilty because she hadn't told him she wasn't a virgin. She shouldn't. There was so much he'd never told her. Secrets from a life he no longer lived and did his best to leave behind him. "No. Maggie listen, I've done things too. I've made more than my share of mistakes. There's nothing I can do to change my past. I've played girls, taken them to bed under the pretense of love. I didn't love them, any of them. I lied to them to get what I wanted. It was wrong of me. I know that now. I can never make up for what I took from them."

Maggie looked up into Cole's eyes and saw the regret for what he'd done. She also saw fear of her reaction at his confession. The Cole he had been was a person she'd never known. She'd gotten glances into his past through the link they shared. Random peeks into his soul. He hated who he'd been. He'd been trapped in a life then, a life that he saw no way out of. There were only actions and reactions, chains of events that drew him deeper and deeper in. He'd given up everything to atone for his sins, everything, even his own humanity for what he perceived as his only chance at redemption. Who was she to hold his past against him? Who was she to withdraw from him and turn him away? Nobody. "So, we forget our pasts and wrongs that we never meant to do and we move on. We dance, to our song."

Cole smiled. Maggie was more perceptive than she'd let on. She'd caught glimpses at the shadows hidden deep in the corners of his soul and didn't run away screaming in terror. She accepted them, as a part of the past he could not change and loved him anyway. His smile widened. He saw it, read it in her expression and in the rich fields of her eyes, brilliant and vibrant as a lush meadow on a sunny day. She loved him.

This wasn't some smitten schoolgirl crush, he realized. She genuinely loved him. All of him. The good and the bad, for they were both part of him and would always be. Maggie's love was a bud on the vine. In time, with patience and experience, it would grow and flower into full bloom.

Cole stared down at Maggie, moving her to the edge of the dance floor. He'd felt so unworthy of love for so long. Willingly punishing himself for things he could not control no more than he could change the flow of the ocean or the whisper of the winds. He'd closed himself off to the possibility of love. Choosing instead to cling to Rachael and what they could have had, if the past had been different and the fates had allowed her to live. His mind reeled with the revelation of things he'd already known but was too selfish and unwilling to admit. He loved Maggie in return. The love was just beginning, like an infant taking its first brave steps in the world. "Yes, we dance."