Dawn Reclaimed

The Native Dawn Series Book 13

Lycan Dawn book 2

Chapter 1

Claire mumbled something intelligible and rolled over, dragging the blankets over her face. Bathing the room with the promise of a simply glorious late spring day, morning light streamed garishly, nauseatingly cheerfully through the lace curtains covering her bedroom window. Cursing the alarm clock, she hit the snooze button and burrowed down deep into the covers. Her dream was better than reality. And damn it, she didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to shower, dress, choke down something loosely resembling breakfast, and drag her happy ass into work this morning. Her vacation was officially, painfully over. And the real world was waiting for her with its arms wide open to welcome her back to it.

Nope. She didn't want any part of reality. The game of life wasn't fun anymore. And she'd rather stay fast asleep than play another round. In her dreams Grant wasn't a desperate thug who had kidnapped her and somehow in the process stolen her heart. He was a man. Stable. Strong. Someone she could build and share a future with. Dreams were funny like that. Supplying the missing pieces a person needed to fill in the blanks and make the dream world so much better than the actual reality of the normal day-to-day bullshit that went on in the real world. She turned and skimmed her palm across the cool sheets of the bed to make sure he wasn't there beside her. He was gone. Of course, he was gone. The bed was cold, lonely, and so fucking empty it hurt.

Claire sat up in the bed and shook it off. She was depressed, alone, and due at work in less than an hour. Letting a string of curses fly from her lips a second time, she turned off the alarm clock and scowled at the pillow she'd been hugging in her sleep. It was a poor substitution for a warm body, for Grant. Irritated with herself, she kicked the pillow out from beneath the covers and onto the floor. Drawing her legs up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees. Putting off reality for just a few more minutes before the clock forced her to give it up, climb out of the bed, and get on with her life.

She'd known it all along. Knew with that first breathless kiss that this was coming. But the knowing didn't stop her heart from shattering into a million pieces when it had. That morning when she'd woken up alone, she'd been so certain, so sure in her convictions that it would hurt, but she'd be ok. She wasn't ok. And it hurt like a mother- fucker. Yeah, Yeah, experiences made you a better person and all that. Whatever. She didn't want to be a better person. She just wanted Grant back.

There was still so much that she didn't know about him. Maybe, given his desperate situation, she should be glad that he'd kept his promise and was gone. When she'd first met him. He frightened her half to death. He'd been hiding in the cabin. Stealing refuge. And she'd just happened along, planning on a vacation consisting of nothing more than seven days of restful peace and quiet. Her quiet vacation, a desperately needed break away from the hustle and bustle of the hospital and her busy life, had turned into so much more than that. Instead of reading books, spending the days in the sunshine, and soaking up the country air, she'd found him. And now, her life was turned upside down.

She leaned over and picked the pillow up off the floor, hugging it to her chest. God, she was so stupid. She should have put the dirty pillowcase in the washer the minute she returned home two days ahead of schedule. Bringing the pillow to her nose, she inhaled the faint lingering scent of him on the pillowcase. The masculine scent of smoky campfires, warm sunny days, cool nights, and musky passion brought a contented smile to her lips and a bitter ache to her heart.

Grant was perhaps the most attractive man she'd ever seen. Devastatingly, heartstoppingly handsome, he was everything a man should be. Tall and well built, with broad shoulders and narrow, lean, athletic hips. Dark hair, not quite black, neatly trimmed in a style suited to play the sharp angles of his face and high cheekbones to their fullest. Soft and decadent as fine silk as she ran the strands through her fingers. He had the darkest, deepest, soul searching brown eyes. The color and heat of their expression reminded her of rich, decadent, steamy, hot chocolate on cold winter nights. The pillowcase clutched in her arms smelled of his warm, bronzed skin and the breaths exhaled from his soft, full, pouty lips. Lips she'd kissed. Lips that had kissed every inch of her with a passion that burned and left her aching for more.

Claire plucked a strand of stray, dark, hair free of the pillowcase and wound it around her finger. This was all that was left of him, a strand of hair and her broken heart. She should have run when she'd had the chance. Tried her best to escape before he'd managed to ensnare her in his trap. But, she hadn't. Instead, she'd given him everything she had worth giving.

Oh, Grant was honest with her, absolutely, undoubtedly, and painfully honest with her from the very beginning. Not that her heart had heeded his warning. Her body hadn't minded the caresses and warmth of his touch one little bit. No matter how temporary he'd cautioned they were. She'd thought she was a woman of the world. She'd thought she could handle the 'love 'em and leave 'em' nature of their time together. And she'd been wrong. There was no getting over it and no getting over him. One wonderful day and night in his arms was never going to be enough to see her through the long haul.

She chastised herself over and over again. The self-condemning party in her head never missed a beat. Should have known better. Should have kept her distance. She knew the score. Knew it was coming. And knew the consequences. The empty bed was exactly what she deserved.

Her heart begged to differ and argued Grant's finer points with the enthusiasm of the Colts Cheerleaders during playoffs. Grant was an honorable man. He had feelings for her. She'd seen them in the depths of his eyes. She'd felt his emotions in the careful way he'd touched and held her so close. She'd heard them in his voice when he said her name. But, if her stupid heart believed all that were true, then why wasn't he here and why was she here alone?

Claire silenced her thoughts. The doubts that snaked through them were poisonous. She climbed out of the bed and set her feet on the fuzzy throw rug at the side of her bed. In the morning the wooden floors of her modest house were cool. And her feet were always perpetually cold. No one had expected her back from vacation so soon. And she'd managed to avoid unwanted and unexpected company by parking her car in the narrow one car garage in back of the house. Ginger, her best friend she supposed, had left another five million annoying messages on her voice mail. And Claire had not answered one of them. She'd had her time in Pityland. But, now it was time to face the world, grab reality by the balls, and deal with the facts.

Fact number one, Grant was in something way over his head. And he'd left, not because he'd wanted to but because he'd had to. Fact number two, she didn't know a damn thing about him. And it was not her style to let a man with a possibly shady past and definitely a questionable future, drag her down with him. Fact number three, the clock was ticking and she was due at work, bright eyed, and bushy tailed in less than thirty minutes. And she had to get her ass in gear. The most undeniable fact of all, and the one she had to keep reminding herself of. She didn't do the 'woe is me' thing. Grant was gone and maybe that was good. Damn good. She'd met someone special. Someone she'd shared a wonderful and passionate night with. Now, it was over. And it was time to move on.

She couldn't look Grant up in the phone book. She didn't even know his last name. She couldn't drive by his house. She didn't know where he lived. She wouldn't bump into him accidentally on the streets. He wouldn't call her. He wouldn't stop by out of the blue someday. There would be no surprise lunch dates, romantic, candlelight dinners, or strolls through the park. Odds were more than likely she'd never see him again. Grant was on the lam, desperate and alone. Hell, he was probably halfway across the country by now. And whatever had driven him away was going to keep him away.

Hustling into the shower, Claire put it out of her mind. Her job demanded polite smiles, caring hands, and an upbeat personality. People didn't come to the hospital for the hell of it. Her patients were there for a reason. Some of them awful, heart wrenching reasons. And they deserved the version of her they'd come to rely on. Nurse Claire never let anybody down. Her patients and her coworkers had enough to deal with without her bringing them down.

Claire yanked a pair of scrubs of the hanger and hastily pulled them on. Scooping her blonde hair up into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck and shoving her feet into her tennis shoes, she snatched up her keys and made a run for the front door. The light on her answering machine blinked furiously. Most people with a need to get a hold of her did it by calling her cell phone. But, with her voice mail inundated with messages from Ginger, her mom had called and left a message on her landline instead. She glanced at her watch and bit her bottom lip. She really didn't have time to listen to her mom's latest tirade. But, if she'd gone to the trouble to call and leave a message on the landline, it had to be important.

Claire rarely checked her answering machine. Usually, it was nothing but a bunch of advertising calls and telemarketers anyway. And she hadn't noticed the four messages blinking on the machine till now. She pushed play, impatiently tapping her finger against the device and listened to the messages. Thomas's mother was dead. She'd died and the funeral service held last week when Claire had been off on vacation. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. It was too late to send flowers. Definitely bad timing on her part to run to the hospital gift shop and pick up a sympathy card for Thomas, And way out of line to show up at his house, toting a condolence casserole, this late after the fact.

The nurse in Claire rationalized that Barbara's death was a blessing. Her suffering finally come to an end. But, she thought of the night when she'd sat with Barbara. Thomas's mother was desperately hanging on, enduring her torment for his sake. She wasn't afraid of death. Her biggest and darkest fear was of leaving her son alone in the world. Claire had tried to comfort the dying woman. Give her hope with a promise she never should have made. And she'd shattered the woman's trust. She'd promised Barbara that she'd be there for Thomas when the time came. The time had come and gone. And she'd broken her promise and left Thomas to deal with his mother's death alone.

All of the sudden, her problems didn't seem so bad. At least Grant was still alive and out there, somewhere. Someday she might see him again. At least she clung to the hope. Barbara wasn't coming back. Ever. Thomas was as alone in the world. Really and truly alone. His mom was gone. He had no brothers and sisters. Claire had never heard Barbara mention any relatives. Thomas had no one. Maybe, a few close friends, but no family.

Claire had no idea what she'd do without her mom and dad to drive her nuts. They were divorced. But, she still had them. In the beginning, she'd tried to get them to kiss and makeup. And since then, she'd grown to accept that they were never getting back together. They tolerated each other, for her sake, on birthdays, holidays, and special occasions. But, other than that, after the pictures were snapped, they retreated to their respective corners of single life and parented with her stuck in the middle, in between the both of them.

Careful, not to scrape the sides of her car against the narrow single car garage door, she backed out of the drive and resolved to put her personal drama behind her. Claire hung a right at the corner and vowed to make it up to Barbara. Determined to put aside her personal feelings about the sometimes egotistical, very mercurial, and occasionally pigheaded, Doctor Thomas Sterling and be the best friend he'd ever had.

Chapter 2

Gentle hands brushed across Grant's stubble lined jaw. Feminine hands. "Claire?" he rasped. His throat was raw and parched. His body ached and throbbed. And his head felt like a walnut in a vice. Forcing his eyes to open he hoped to see a pair of teal colored eyes staring down at him. No, the eyes were brown, soft and gentle, tinted with concern. Eyes of a person he knew well. But, that were so different from the last time he'd looked into them. Instead of hard resolve and grim determination, Tala's eyes blazed with the fire of a new life and of hope. "Tala?"

Disappointment shuddered through him. How many times had he fantasized about waking up and seeing Tala staring down at him? Here she was. But, she wasn't the woman who filled his dreams with desperate longing. Not the woman he longed to wake up to. Nor did she have the eyes he so urgently wanted to see. He'd been dreaming. Fading in and out of consciousness. His body was battered and aching, weak as a newborn pup. He'd been so confused. Crying out for her. Not understanding in his hazy, dream state, why Claire wasn't there.

What he felt for Tala was friendship, the love of a brother for a sister, nothing more, nothing less. He understood that now. After falling in love, he knew the difference between misguided and misplaced affectionate friendship and true love. At one time, he'd thought Tala was the one, his soul mate. And that notion had almost gotten them both killed.

Eager and ambitious, thinking he could force her to love him. Grant had stupidly challenged her father to a battle for the death. But Tala, fearing for her father's life had taken his place in the fight. At the time, he had been too impetuous and too bent on his own ego to decline. He'd beaten her within an inch of her life. Pounded her with his fists, broken her bones, and almost killed her in a fit of jealous rage. He realized now what a fool he'd been. Tala would have never have loved him the way he'd wanted her to. And only after experiencing love first hand, did he realize no beating, no pounding, and no amount of force could make someone love another.

His foolishness had cost him greatly. He'd lost the fight. Lost his home. And lost his wolf. He was as human as the other ninety-nine percent of the planet. Fragile. Breakable. Mortal.

Chased from the territory, an angry pack of wolves at his heels. He'd stumbled across the cabin. Sought refuge until he'd recovered enough to travel on. And that was when he'd met Claire. She'd taken him totally by surprise. Even as his captive, she had an aura of kindness and understanding around her. She was afraid of him, at first. But, she'd overcome her fear and shown him genuine compassion. Her teal eyes saw through the muddle of his desperate situation. Stripped through him and saw the man he could be. The man he wanted to become, for her. He closed his eyes. Trying desperately to hold onto the vision of her in his mind. Trying to remember her gentle scent, the exact shade of blonde her hair turned in the sunlight, and the warmth of her lips on his. "Where's Claire? How long have I been here?"

Tala bit her bottom lip in doubt. She didn't know how much she should tell him. The events at the bluffs were a hazy memory to her. She remembered the wolves. She remembered Grant. She remembered Grant's wolf, bounding through the woods, changing back to human. And she remembered sinking her fangs into him and drinking, and drinking, and drinking. She perched on the side of the bed, stilling him with the gentle press of her palms against his chest. She'd almost killed him. Almost drained him to the point of death. And he would have died if not for the mysterious Claire holding him earthbound.

Her blood had healed Grant's body. And his wolf took care of the rest. It was good to have them back safe and sound with the Pack where they belonged. On the outside he was still the same old Grant he'd always been. But, on the inside, he'd changed. And he was so different from the man he had been a week ago. She didn't know how much of what happened he remembered. She didn't know if he'd remember his wolf claiming their shared body or if he'd remember her attacking him once the wolf had relented it back into Grant's care. She didn't know if he'd remember drinking from her wrist. And most importantly, she didn't know if he'd remember the truth, that she'd almost killed him. That she'd lost control and drank him to death. Whoever the illusive Claire was, Tala owed her a great debt for saving Grant's life. "Grant..."

Grant rested his head against the pillows, drifting in a sea of familiarity. The scents of the wolves comforted him and wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The bed, soft and warm, was his. He was in his old room. Home. The whispers of wolf song echoed in his mind. Pushing out worries of the past. Drowning out his thoughts of Claire. He clung to his memories desperately. He didn't want to let her go. He couldn't let her go.

Grant struggled to sit up in the massive bed. The oak headboard was cold and hard behind his back. His head spun and his stomach lurched from the sudden movement. "I have to find her. Have to explain."

Grant had been fading in and out of consciousness for days. When he'd awaken, he'd cry out for Claire. Moaning her name as he tossed restlessly in the bed. Tala didn't have the heart to tell him the truth about Claire. He'd realize it soon enough. She leaned over and eased him down onto the pillows and covered his shivering body with the blankets. "Grant, you're home. That's all that matters," she said gently. She didn't want to shatter the hope he clung so desperately to. The hope was all that bound the wolf and the man together by a fragile strand. And she couldn't tear it way.

Grant grasped Tala's dainty hand and reached up to tug on her braid the way he had when they were kids. Squeezing her fingers with his, he shivered at the coolness of her skin. Vampire? Wolf? It didn't matter. "Are you happy?" he asked. He forced his eyes to stay open although he desperately wanted to close them.

"Yes," Tala answered softly. She smiled up at Drew. He hadn't left Grant's side since returning from the woods. Concern lined his face. At one time, Drew wouldn't have hesitated to kick Grant's ass to hell and back. Now, things were different. Grant's sacrifice had turned hatred into respect. And Drew, although Grant was too out of it to realize, had come to a truce with the man.

Grant's eyelids were suddenly very heavy. His mind quieted. He forced his eyes to stay open. He met Drew's stare and glanced down at the broad fingers wrapped protectively around Tala's narrow shoulder. They were happy. Mates. "Good." Grant struggled to stay awake. Fight against Drew's power. But, he was too weak to battle the whispered suggestion of sleep. Maybe, he was more human than he thought. Or perhaps, his battered body and frayed mind simply acknowledged that dreams were better than the reality waiting for him to wake. "So sorry. Everything I did. So... sorry, I hurt... you."

Grant had come full circle. No longer the egotistical bastard that he once was. Being without the strength of his pack. Being alone without his wolf had taught him a lesson in humility. He felt the power of his wolf stirring beneath his skin. No, he wasn't human, not any more. Somehow. He'd found his way back home where he belonged.

Tala drew the covers up tighter under Grant's chin as he drifted off. Gently, she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs off his sweat-drenched forehead. Grant needed time to heal. He was still very weak. His brow wrinkled for a moment then smoothed as sleep claimed him. He had hard decisions to make. Choices. But, now was not the time for them. "You're home now. Safe. That's all that matters." She glanced across the room at her father. "Dad, take care of him."