Dawn’s Awakening (14 page)

She swallowed tightly against the sickness rising inside her. She didn’t want him to see her, she didn’t want to see that knowledge in his eyes again. Because she had seen those discs, she knew, frame by frame, the images they contained. And he had been the one person she was certain, to her soul certain, hadn’t seen them.

And she had been so wrong.

She rolled over on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the need that tore through her like a hungry beast. The arousal, the aching desperation for his touch. It hadn’t changed for her. She hadn’t lost the need as he had; this was just another night, another torment to add to the others.

How could Callan betray her this way?

She pushed her fingers through her hair as waves of red-hot mortification and confusion whipped through her mind. She had depended on Callan that first year, she knew that. After Dayan’s death. After Callan killed him. She had let him protect her, let him draw her beneath his wing and help her find her way.

She shouldn’t have done that, she saw now. She shouldn’t have placed that burden on Callan’s shoulders.

You’re weak, Dawn. Look how weak you are. So weak you couldn’t endure what the rest of us learned how to live with. Look at that, Dawn.

The girl on those discs fought. Feral. Enraged. And she prayed. She prayed, and Dayan had laughed at it, laughed because he told her God didn’t care. He had proved it by taking her mind and leaving the animal to fight.

And Dawn felt no more for the memory of the images he had showed her than she did for any other image she had ever viewed of any other Breed. She felt regret, compassion for that child. And she felt humiliated, dirty, because Seth had seen it. He had seen her pray, and he had seen that God had turned the other way.

She blew out a weary breath and closed her eyes. She had to sleep. She couldn’t afford to leave Seth’s protection to a broken, exhausted woman. Just a few hours. She set her mental clock, her inner defenses, to awaken her in time to keep the dreams from slipping into her head like the malevolent creatures they were.

Not that she ever remembered the dreams. But she couldn’t let that animal free again. The one that awoke Sanctuary with feral, enraged feline screams. God help her if Seth ever had to see that, because she didn’t think she could bear that humiliation.

Sleep. She forced herself into the sheltering darkness, shut down her thoughts and made herself rest. As she had done so many times before.

An imperative, though slight, knock sounded at the bedroom door. It was muffled, but it didn’t stop. Seth snapped his lips together as he rolled from the mattress and padded in his sock feet through the bedroom and into the sitting room.

He didn’t have to pause to dress, because he was still damned well dressed. Slacks, shirt and socks. He wasn’t about to take his clothes off and feel the sensuous slide of the silk sheets against his flesh and remember how much softer Dawn’s flesh had been.

Hell no, he wasn’t going to try to sleep. He was going to stare at the damned ceiling all night long. Again.

He jerked the door open, then paused in shock at the sight of Cassie. Her face was paper white, all those curls hanging around her and flowing to the waist of the long, white gown and robe she wore.

“Seth.” Her voice sent chills up his spine. “You have to do something, Seth. She’s waking up.” Her eyes were huge, neon blue in a face parchment white.

“Dawn.” His gaze jerked to her door. He knew she hadn’t left her room. “What do you mean, Cassie?”

A tear fell from her eye. “She’s waking up, Seth. You have to go to her. Now. You can’t let her wake up alone. Please, Seth. Please.”

He clenched his fists at his side then ran his fingers through his hair.

“Cassie,” he groaned in frustration. “Dammit, I can’t go to her.”

“Seth. Don’t you love her anymore?”

Love her? He had never stopped loving her.

“This isn’t about love, Cassie.”

“But it is, Seth. If you love her, you’ll be there when she begins to wake up. You have to, Seth. You have to, or she’s lost to us forever.”

The chills that went up his spine turned to daggers of fear. He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but he had heard enough about her over the years that he couldn’t ignore it.

He grimaced painfully, then stepped back into his room and closed and locked his door, before striding to the door that connected to Dawn’s room. And, of course, it was unlocked. She could lock the hall door, but she just had to leave this one unlocked.

He stepped into the dark room, not certain what to expect, but he wasn’t expecting what met his eyes. She lay on her bed, stiff and still, her breathing harsh and heavy as small, terrified mewls left her lips. She was sweating heavily, her body jerking.

And something broke inside him, because he knew where she was, he knew what dreams had stolen her and why Cassie was so concerned now.

“Dawn,” he whispered her name as he moved to the side of the bed and sat down warily.

He didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want to make the nightmares worse. But God damn it if he could stand to see her this way.

“Dawn, baby, wake up.” He reached out and realized his hand was shaking as he touched her hair then and had to clench his hands to keep from shaking her.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh please God…save me…save me…” The words whispered from her lips; desperate, guttural, tight, pain-filled sighs, a breath of sound, nothing more.

“Dawn! Wake up!” he snapped, raising his voice, suddenly terrified.

Her eyes flew open. She stared at the ceiling, her breathing harsh, her pupils dilated and she jerked as though attempting to free herself.

It hurt him to watch her try to breathe, hurt him to see her gasping for air. He reached out and gripped her shoulders, unable to stop, breaking apart inside at the fear on her face, and pulled her to his chest.

“Dawn, please, baby. Please wake up.” He held her head to his chest, his head bent over hers, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to kill. He wanted to spill the blood of the bastards who had dared to hurt her this way.

“I’m okay.” Her voice was ragged, tearing past her throat in rough growls as her hands jerked up and gripped his forearms. “Get away from me.” She shuddered, shook as though freezing. “I’m okay.”

But he wasn’t. He buried his face in her hair and held on to her. He couldn’t let her go. God help him. The feel of her against him, in his arms, against his chest—that was all he wanted. Right now, just this.

“Did I scream?” Panic filled her voice now as she began to shake harder. “Please, did I scream?”

Seth shook his head. “No. No, Dawn, you didn’t scream.”

No scream could have been as tragic, as desperate as those frightened mewls, that desperate, whispered prayer that had fallen from her lips.

“I’m okay then.” She shook off the nightmare with an ease that left him in shock. Her muscles lost their tension, and she relaxed in his embrace, breathing out softly. “Don’t let me go yet.”

Let her go? Coyotes couldn’t pry his arms away from her right now.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” She sighed against his chest, her nails kneading at the material of his shirt as she shifted from fear to sensuality.

Seth gritted his teeth, and he tried to unlock his arms from around her. He tried to let her go. She was awake now, she would be okay, surely to God she would.

He had never known torture like he knew it now. He remembered once, when he had been captured during a mission in his years in the military. One time, and the bastards had spent two days torturing him. That was nothing compared to this. The pain of holding her, the arousal building in his body like a fever, and feeling her slide against him.

“It’s another dream, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I like these dreams. They don’t hurt.” Her lips touched his flesh where the shirt parted and he swore flames sizzled against the sweat he could feel building there.

“Let me dream a little longer.” She pulled at the material of his shirt. “I hate it when you go away. When the dream just fades, right before I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

He closed his eyes, his palms flat against the light, thin T-shirt she wore to sleep in. He could feel her flesh through it, damp, heated, her muscles relaxing beneath the fingers that pressed against her.

“Dawn,” he whispered against her hair. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s just a dream.” Her teeth scraped over his chest, those sharp little canines pausing to bite.

And he let her. He let out a hard, desperate groan as her lips moved up his chest to his neck. She licked and his heart almost burst from the pleasure. Then those sharp little canines raked over the flesh at the base of his neck, and she bit down.

“Shit!” His hand jerked to the back of her head and he had every intention of pulling her back.

Instead, glutton that he was, he pushed her closer and tilted his head for her, let her have her way. Let her tongue lick and stroke as heat seemed to sink clear to the vein that throbbed beneath her lips. He would have let her tear his throat out if she wanted to, he realized.

“I like this dream.” She moved in his arms, her lips still at his neck, moved and pressed into him until he was leaning against the headboard and she was straddling his thighs.

He was a strong man, he had always told himself. He did the things he had to do whether he liked doing them or not. He understood his responsibilities, and he fulfilled them to the best of his ability. And he knew, he knew Dawn couldn’t handle the sexuality that fucking heat bred inside him.

But was he moving away from her? Or was he touching her, helping her to slide down until the blazing heat of her pussy was riding the hard ridge of his cock with nothing but her panties and his slacks to separate them.

And he was dying from the pleasure of it. The feel of her lips against his neck, the feel of his hands on her bare flesh. And he had to have more. If he didn’t have more, he was going to die.

If it was another dream, then she didn’t want to know. Dawn knew she couldn’t be dreaming; she knew she was awake, knew Seth was holding her, knew that she was grinding herself against the thick length of his erection, and she couldn’t stop. Even though she knew he didn’t want this. He had come to her though. She had awoken and he was there. She had come out of a pain-filled darkness and he had been waiting on her, holding her, his arms wrapping around her and chasing the horror away.

“I like this dream,” she whispered.

“This dream is going to kill both of us.” His voice was strained, and she almost smiled, but her tongue was thick in her mouth, the hormone filling it spilling from the small glands. And she needed to share.

She lifted her head from his neck, from the bite she had given him, and pulled his head down to her. He was so big, so hard and broad. In his arms she felt cocooned, protected against the darkness.

“Kiss me, Seth.” She stared up at him, drugged, drowsy with the need. “Burn with me. Don’t make me burn alone this time. Don’t leave me again.”

And she burned worse. He could see it in her, feel it in her.

“Sweet heaven, you’ll destroy us both.”

A man could only be so strong. He couldn’t deny the sweet taste of her, and he couldn’t deny her need. He could have denied his own. He could have fought it, he could have pushed himself from her, but he couldn’t deny her hunger.

His lips covered hers, his tongue parting them, and he sank into bliss.

The hormone was like a narcotic, but her lips, her lips were silk and satin, and the stroke of her tongue against his was ecstasy itself.

He couldn’t help but lift against her, to grip her hips and press her into the desperately hard length of his cock. He wanted inside her. He wanted to peel the clothes from both of them and let her take him just like this. Pull her down and impale her on the impossibly hard flesh as he took her with a kiss just like this. Hungry and searching, a melding of lips and tongues and a single breath that they fed to each other.

He felt his shirt slide off his shoulders to catch at his elbows, because he wasn’t letting go of her ass. Hell. Fuck. His hands were clenched around the cheeks of her ass, teaching her how to move against him, how to make him insane with lust.

He was teaching her how to destroy him.

“I want you naked, Seth. Just like my dreams. Naked against me.”

No. No. Hell no. He was not getting naked with her. He wasn’t going to let this happen.

Her hands, silken, heated, pulled his belt free as he bucked against her. The snap loosened and she was easing back, wiggling against the grip his hands had on her, pressing into it as he felt his zipper slide free.

And was he doing a damned thing to save himself? He was a fool. Mindless. A mindless fool, and he deserved anything that slapped into him at this point.

“Can I touch you, Seth?” Her breath whispered over his lips and fed his lusts.

“Dawn, bad idea.” He was fighting to breathe, drawing in her breath and dying in pleasure.

“I dream of touching you, Seth.” Her voice was the sexiest sound to ever brush across his senses.

“I’m not letting go.” His fingers flexed against the curves he held captive.

“Do you like my ass, Seth?” the temptress whispered as he nipped at her lips before she leaned away from him.

He opened his eyes and knew he should have left them closed. There she was, her hair mussed and wild around her sensual features. And her hands were moving, gripping the hem of her T-shirt and pulling it up. Up.

“Ah hell, Dawn.” He was staring at her breasts, her nipples stiff and reaching out to him.

His hands clenched on her ass again and he bared his teeth in torment as she lowered her hands and released his poker-hot, iron-hard dick from its confinement.

He was a dead man, that was what he was. He might as well blow his own head off rather than wait for an assassin to do it for him. Because her hands, butter-fucking-soft hands, were wrapped around his cock, stroking it between their combined bodies, sending his senses exploding with pleasure. So much pleasure. Sweet God in heaven, he had never known pleasure like this.