Dawn Released 2

Native Dawn Series Book 16

Dawn Released

Prologue

Nash was a man who kept his promises. He kept his promises to his family, to relation so distant that they weren't really related to him anymore, and to others, virtual strangers, recently taken into the outer edges of the fold. He'd made a promise once. He still kept it to this day. He'd been a different man back then, little more than a boy on the precipice of manhood, really. Just as she'd been a doe-eyed girl on the verge of becoming the woman she'd someday grow up to be. He'd promised her his love and his life and he'd kept that promise made of innocence and hope, whispered like a desperate child's wish on a shooting star, ever since. The things he'd wished for had come true. But, like all childhood dreams, wishes weren't meant to last beyond the brightness of a sudden spark on the distant horizon. His wish ended with the soft final flutter of a heartbeat and the rapid inhale of breath into new lungs.

After her death, heartbroken and released of his promise, he still remained true to his wife. Self-martyred by his fidelity to the words of his promise that had since then ceased to have any meaning, Nash remained a man true to his vows. And he clung to the promises made by a boy that had grown into a man with the desperation of the drowning to a life preserver. Time passed and the only thing he had was his promises, to her, to his children, to his family, and to anyone else in need of a promise. Keeping to the laws of good intentions was safer than risking so much on flimsy wisps of hopes and dreams as fleeting as the morning mists before the break of dawn.

He was very much alive. He had been alive for a very long time and most likely would be for a lot longer. His promises, his memories, and his children were all he had left to remind him that she'd ever existed, that they'd existed together, and that he'd been a hopeful boy capable making of such weighty promises and dreaming such splendid dreams of a bright and glittering future.

For a time, a long time, this life, this carefully constructed life of duty and promises had been enough. But, he found that after years of caring for everyone else. Surrounded by the heaviness and awful reality of the vows he'd endeavored to keep. He was utterly and deeply alone beneath the crush of his family and the promises, sometimes, he wished he'd never made.

He thought about the stolen kiss. The taste of her lips as they pressed against his. A delightful kiss not filled with demanding or answers, but a kiss, soft and sweet and promising so much more than he dared to want. He'd been alone for so very long and that kiss had made him realize just how very long it truly had been. One stolen moment meant everything and yet, at the same time, meant nothing. The kiss left him with a single question he dared not to ask and wisely pushed far from his mind. With one sweet, soft, innocent, and desperate kiss so filled with possibilities and unspoken promises, had he broken the one promise he'd sacrificed everything to keep?

Circumstance. That was what it all boiled down to. Circumstance. Eloise claimed Texas was her home. Everything she'd ever known. Circumstance had put her on that plane. Circumstance had taken her away from him and from any of the possibilities that ever could have been between them. He didn't have to grapple with the moral dilemma of his question, thanks to oaths not of his making. She had promises of her own to keep. And ultimately, all he could do was wait to see if by chance or circumstance the unspoken promise in that kiss, a vow unsaid, but far too well understood with the brushing of lips and wild tangle of tongues would ever be kept.

Eloise took her time, slipping back into the familiar persona of the woman she had been before she left Texas. That woman was sure and confident. Doing whatever she had to do to ensure her position and procure a future for her daughters. That woman was ruthless and cunning used to giving orders and making demands. Something in her had changed in the short time she'd been away. She had to find the woman she once was. That woman was the woman her nemesis was used to dealing with. The woman her pack respected. And not the soft, shaken, and unsure woman she saw in the mirror's reflection.

Her home still looked the same. Everything was in its familiar place, just where she'd left it. Surrounded by familiarity, she was the only thing unfamiliar and out of place. She slicked the comb gripped tightly in her hand through her soft, black hair. Ignoring the random sliver strands here and there woven amongst the black, she tamed the waves smooth and gathered them into a neat, tightly wound chignon at the back of her neck. She dabbed makeup across her cheeks and beneath the dark valleys under her eyes in hopes of erasing the proof of sleepless nights and the constant preoccupation of her worry.

She pulled on a slim, navy blue, pencil skirt and slid into a cream colored silk blouse with tiny pearl buttons at the throat. The sensible low-heeled black pumps on her feet clicked across the hardwood floors as she walked to the closet and found the matching high- wasted blazer that completed the power suit. She looked all business, sharp angles, common sense, and no bullshit. Exactly the image she hoped to portray. Her future depended on how well she pulled off the next few days. Perhaps, her life did as well.

She sank onto the velvet-lined bench and stared into the mirror on her dressing table. She looked right. But, inside she wasn't right. She was, for the first time in as long as she could remember, utterly alone. Her former bodyguards and her precious daughters were tucked away someplace safe from the danger that she was willingly about to confront.

She willed the fear out of her mind and selected a few no-frills pieces of jewelry from her collection. She fingered the baubles, pretty pieces of glittery jewelry and sparkling stones representing a far shallower woman than she truly was. Expensive gifts and trinkets she'd bought for no other reason than she'd wanted them at the time. Her fingers shook as she fastened the clasp of the necklace at the back of her neck. Willing them to stop shaking, she ran her fingertips over the plain golden chain to steady herself.

Eloise selected her perfume with care from the myriad bottles neatly arranged across the vanity top. The scent she chose was feminine, musky, and sweet with a floral undertone of gardenia and rose. The essence of it was the perfect cover for the pungent, acidic, stink of her fear. Eloise Collins feared nothing. While that wasn't true, she could at least cover the reek of it.

She was the picture of perfection, elegant and regal, classically beautiful, with just a hint of cruelty and ruthlessness beneath her composed persona. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she was not only alone, but she was scared shitless. Her mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, dry with nervous dread. She slicked her tongue over her full lips in an attempt to moisten them. As if she could lick away the traces of the sensation of his mouth on hers.

In that one kiss Nash had unleashed a part of her she'd held in strictest restraint. Perhaps, a part she'd never realized existed. She had known men, but none like him. Even her omegas, her precious omegas, in which she held such a deep affection, did not discover this fragile part of her being that until now had been safely tucked away so deeply inside of her.

One kiss had changed everything she thought she knew. Everything she thought she wanted. The big, opulent house seemed emptier now. Just a house though and not the home she valued so dearly. The Texas sun felt cooler and looked duller than it had when she'd left. The only thing left for her here were shadows of the great woman she had been. She wasn't that woman anymore. She'd been broken down to her simplest terms. Stripped of all the finery she surrounded herself with, unmasked and raw, she was only a woman soft, vulnerable, and uncertain beneath the layers of shiny veneer that he had peeled away to expose her with just one simple kiss.

Yet, she was destined to be here. She'd fought too hard for the right to be here and she had to see this through till the end. Her choices were few, if they existed at all. This place was all she'd ever known. She ran her hand along the cold surface of her ornately carved dressing table and thought about all the things she'd come back to accomplish. This wasn't about her. This was about her pack. Maybe, she wasn't the best leader, but she was sure as hell the better option than the man vying for control of them. If it were only herself she sought to save. She could have the luxury of considering what she wanted and where her life was going. Things didn't work that way though. Not for her. Not ever. She'd always been pushed by duty and by the things that she had to do as a consequence.

There was always free will. Not even circumstance could truly take that away. Her free will had brought her back to this place and taken away all her choices until they were narrowed down to only one. That decision brought her here, to this point. She had no other options but to complete her journey and follow it wherever it led.

Her thoughts were distracted by the resounding bong of the doorbell echoing through the empty hallways and rooms of this monstrosity of a house. She stood, taking her time. People in control did not rush to answer doors. They got to them when they got to them. She smoothed down the soft wool of her skirt and pulled on the blazer. Casually, checking for loose bits of lint before she took the first step toward the door.

Any small imperfection in her appearance, dress, or manner, would be seen as weakness. That too, was a luxury she couldn't afford. She tucked a wisp of stray hair into place and gathered her wits. Faking confidence she didn't feel, she walked to answer the door Her steps unhurried, almost leisurely, as if she were still in control of her life.

Chapter 1

Kacie stared out of the sliding glass patio door, looking down at the rooftops from her sister's place. No, it was her apartment now, not Jan's. The evening sun hung low on the edge of the horizon and with nightfall coming the temperature plummeted. She flipped the cover of her cell phone open, just to check. There was still no word from her mother. Her mother was in Texas, tending to business.

Eloise Collins was a no bullshit, take no prisoners kind of woman who tended to business with ruthless efficiency. Normally, she wouldn't worry about her mother. The legendary Eloise Collins was quite proficient in taking care of herself. Usually. Kacie absently twirled the ends of her waist length, dark hair between her fingers. She did that when she was worried. At one time Kacie would have thought not hearing from her mother was a blessing. However, these days, no news was not good news. Lack of word from her mother could mean anything or it could mean nothing.

Kacie was doing quite a good job at playing normal in her attempts to refuse to contemplate how abnormal her life truly was. All her time, her whole life, had been spent assuming the future was certain, predictable, and set in stone. She had banked on the fact that she'd live and die as she'd grown up, in Texas and as one of her pack. She was thousands of miles from there and the future she thought she'd have belonged to someone else in some quantum reality. It sure as hell wasn't her reality, not anymore.

Kacie was doing her best. She had an apartment, a job, and a car. What more did she need? There were others like her in the area. Nash had offered her a spot in his pack. But, she'd refused consider shifting her loyalties. There was a certain part of her that didn't want to let go of what was then, of who she thought was, and had always been. She wasn't ready to embrace the new identity of who she could be, if she really wanted to.

Jan, her older sister had found her happiness and she fit nice and tight, like fingers in a glove. She belonged in this new town and with this new pack. Kacie doubted if she ever would ever mold her square peg self into such a neat and tidy little round hole. There was a part of her that wanted to. Desperately. She could grab onto the new and forget the old. The past was gone and done forever. There was nothing left for her back in Texas. The future stretched out before her unplanned and limitless. For the first time in her life, she had viable options. She could stay or she could go, anywhere. She could move to Antarctica and live like a hermit, if she wanted to. Her life had never been her own and now, suddenly, it was. How she lived it, where she lived it, and what she did with it was entirely up to her. And damn, was that a scary thought.

There was no doubt about what other people wanted for her. Jan wanted her to stay. Her mother had ordered her to stay. Nash hoped she'd join his pack. The omegas as content as they were to be doing something useful with their new pack, needed her to stay. The question though, what did she want, need, or hope for, was bigger than the people in her life.

She had incentives to stay put, for now. People like Jan, Catcher, and Tracker. And of course, then there was Tristen. She knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted her. Sometimes, she was tempted to the point of insanity to give in to his playful, gentle tactics of persuasion. He looked at her in a way that both thrilled and frightened her. Offered his hand in patient friendship, always hoping for more, but accepting the limitations of whatever she'd give him in return. She refused to see him as anything more than a friend. Until she knew what she wanted for certain. There was no point to think of him as anything else.

Chapter 2

Eloise followed the guards, caring little about the posh and elaborate setting surrounding her. The Grand Manor house was something out of the pages of antiquity. Constructed sometime around the mid-nineteenth century, the sprawling mansion had served as a power base for the pack for almost two centuries. She'd never liked the place. She found the ornate furnishings and overdone sense of grandeur the Manor house represented stifling and outdated. The place was a dusty relic of a past she could do without. She'd grown up here. She'd ascended to her title here. Once she'd taken her rightful place as Mistress of the Pack, she'd shut the place down tight.

Oh, the place was well maintained, without so much of a speck of dust or a cobweb dangling from the chandeliers. Occasionally, when she was required to receive important guests, she'd order the silver polished and the rooms aired out. After all, she'd never allow the kind of people she received in her private home. Sometimes, the overwhelming shadow of the Grand Manor and the power it represented was enough to keep the wolves at bay. Unfortunately, it had not worked on Seff and he'd settled in and made himself at home.

She swallowed back the fear welling up in her throat. She was a little like the Grand Manor, a relic occasionally brought out for show. She relied mostly on her reputation, rather the reputation handed down to her by her father, than an actual display of power. It had been a tactic that had served her well, up to this point. With her life and the future of her pack hanging in the balance, she was out of tricks up her sleeve. Rumors of her family's fierce reputation were not going to save her this time. The Grand Manor house was just brick and mortar and she was in danger of losing it.

The heels of her pumps clicked across the polished wooden floors. She held her head high and walked with purpose and determination in her steps. The act was bullshit, pure and simple. Her insides were quivering as the guards, unfriendlies under Seth's command, ushered her down a wide hallway to the study.

Was she brave or just an idiot? Right now, she was opting for idiot. Eloise felt naked without her Omegas at her side. She was alone and growing more and more desperate with each step closer to the double doors at the end of the hall. She'd always feared these doors. Even as a little girl, she'd been terrified of what was behind them, of her father, and before him, her grandfather. Nothing good happened in that room of power, position, and plotting. Nothing good ever had happened behind those polished, thick, and imposing dark wooden doors and most likely, never would.

Yes, she was an idiot. One of the guards at her back prodded her forward. She stubbornly held her ground and refused to budge. The brass handles of the doorknob glimmered dully in the pale lamplight cast down by a row of showy crystal sconces lining the hallway. She was still mistress of this pack and the Grand Manor was still her home. She was entitled to certain standards of treatment. The slight amount of pride and dignity she had left would not allow her to reach down, put her hand on the knob, and open the door for herself.

It was such a tiny thing, a petty thing, for her not to reach down and open that door. But, it wasn't the door as much as the man behind it that had her refusing. The guard grunted in displeasure. His shoulder brushed hers as he reached around her. Eloise bristled at the insult of the contact. He opened the door and practically shoved her inside. It was a small victory, but nonetheless a victory. Clinging to old traditions and values that served no purpose was the only hope in hell she had of winning this game. Seff so loved playing games and toying with his pray. And she, at the mercy and whim of a man who wanted her pack and possibly her life, was pray.

The room might have been cozy. The big fire roaring in the hearth might have been welcoming from the south Texas winter chill. If it hadn't been for the man, casually swirling red wine in an elegant crystal fluted wine glass he dangled carelessly from his fingers, sitting in front of it. "Eloise, how good to see you again." He drawled the words, spoken without warmth or sincerity, as if he were doing her a favor by letting her enter her own home.

Eloise fortified her presence, straightening her shoulders and tilting her chin up in silent defiance. "Likewise." Her voice betrayed her thoughts, quavering slightly as she spoke the lie. The guards flanking her stepped discreetly to the side, blocking the exit with their big bodies and effectively trapping her inside the room. With Seff everything was a power play. That he carelessly dangled a wine glass worth a small fortune from his fingertips and in it, staining the sides red like blood, was her family's finest vintage. He lounged in the heirloom, camel-hair upholstered, wingback chair generations of Pack Masters had sat in as if it were a Barco-lounger. He rested his booted feet on a priceless Persian rug that belonged in a museum of fine art and not beneath the soles of his filthy Doc Martins.

She hated this house, but she respected everything it stood for. And although she begrudged the dusty grandeur of it, she understood its necessity. Anger flared through her. Seff had no respect, no honor, and certainly no intentions of leaving anytime soon. Stepping closer, Eloise put on her hardened, game face. She hadn't been close enough to notice before. The fire in the fireplace roared and gave off a brilliant orange glow. But, coming around to the empty chair beside Seff's, she caught the vague outline of the things being consumed by the fire's hungry flames.

Thick, ornate portrait frames reduced to charred remnants. The canvases curled and the paint blistered in the hot flames. The wall over the mantle was bare, as were the walls on either side of the floor to ceiling bookcases. The books were gone, probably already consumed the fire. The portraits and books were irreplaceable, but what they'd represented was priceless. Eloise lifted her fingertips to her mouth to trap the scream and the whimper of agony building in her throat.