Dawns Shelter

Prologue

In the essence of all things casual, Thomas avoided Jan like the plague. Theirs was not a kiss and tell relationship. Theirs wasn't a relationship at all. There was no such nonsense as holding hands or spending hours gazing into each other's eyes. There was sex. Dark moments of craving and indulgence, a temporary, no consequences union of bodies between the sheets, and then afterwards, a swift kick in the ass out the front door.

Summer was gone in a flash of Fourth of July fireworks. Not that they saw the spectacular show the Ladies Auxiliary put on down by the lake. Nope, not these two unlikely lovers so locked in their hatred and disdain of all things relationship. They were a mound of joined flesh, sweating bodies, and tangled limbs. Shared pleasure was their declaration of independence from one another. And come, like the sweet taste of cotton candy, was on the tips of their tongues.

Labor Day was much the same. Oh, they were busy working. Working over one another's bodies in a quick collision of flesh and rendezvous of pleasure. While the town celebrated, they chose to remain hidden away from the backyard cookouts in the cool, air-conditioned dimness of Thomas's bedroom. They even managed a brief appearance at the hospital employee picnic, not as a couple, of course, before sneaking off to do what it was they did in the first convenient place they could find.

Halloween came and went with the frosty exhale of the pungent smoke of burned leaves and taste of crisp, tart apples. That night, like every other night, they wore their masks of cold indifference as they tricked and treated between the sheets of Jan's bed.

Thanksgiving and Christmas, and many lonely nights in between were exactly the same. In and out, no muss, no fuss, and definitely, undoubtedly, and without question, no relationship.

Thomas's New Year's resolution was a simple one whispered on a breathy sigh of pleasure as he perched on his knees between Jan's thighs to drink in the sweetest champagne he'd ever tasted and would likely ever taste again. Their trysts were secret. The time they spent together was not wasted on contemplation. There was no conversation beyond the immediate in the obviousness of their hidden non-relationship. They talked about nothing. Only mentioning what to put where. How deep to put it and how hard, fast, or slow they wanted it. And then, with shuddering climaxes and sweat-slicked skin on skin, the strained crying out of each other's names.

Jan, naturally, was a January baby. And Thomas celebrated with her in the most unconventional way. Or, perhaps, it was the only way that made sense, given the nature of their perpetual one-night stand. He didn't take her out to dinner. He didn't buy her a present or scribble his signature on any sappy birthday card. But, he did give her gifts. His cock, his tongue, his hands on her curves, and his fingers searching out every sweet spot he'd discovered on her body. And Jan was just as happy to receive as he was to give.

Most nights, he left his door unlocked. Likewise, he knew her door was unlocked for him. Sometimes, it was like that between the two of them, quick, unexpected, over and done. An open invitation to take what you wanted, give what the other person needed, then out the door and gone. Laughingly, he called the pleasurable surprise visits so filled with urgency and need 'drive by fuckings'. But hey, fucking was good. And fucking Jan or letting Jan fuck him was the best.

He wouldn't say Jan brought out the worst in him. Nope, he brought out the worst in himself. She wasn't tying him down or forcing him to do anything against his will, although, that was an interesting idea. He did what he did because he wanted to do it. The same as she did what she did because she wanted to do it. Maybe, it was because of lack of available partners. Or maybe, it was simply a matter of convenience. He was there. She was there. And what they did for each other was enough to make them come back for more. He, the innermost parts of his mind that jangled in the back of his conscience like loose change in a pant's pocket, supposed the most likely explanation to their continual one-night stand was that nobody else would let it drag on for months and months without demanding more or calling the whole thing off.

Thomas didn't know Jan's story. She'd never offered to tell. And he wasn't necessarily one for pillow talk. But, he knew his own. No woman had ever burned him. But, he'd never been lit on fire before either. Not the way Jan sparked him to life, anyway.

Oh, he'd had his share of weakly smoldering embers. Sparks, he mistook for love and the possibilities that came with it. But, Jan was the one who lit him up. And that was the most condemning thing of all. He came. He gave. He took. And he damn well made sure she got as good as she gave. He left his door unlocked. Not because he wanted to get burned. And he had no doubt, if he got too involved. Jan would burn him. He wasted his time in this travesty of a non-relationship and never ending one-night stand. When instead, he should be looking for and wanting something more. Solely because the heat of her flame felt so damn good.

Jan shivered and hurried her pace as she passed the wide windows of the flower shop. The winds were cold. Damn cold. Thanks to the endless mounds of snow, the parking in front of the bar was at a premium. She only lived a couple of blocks away. And tonight, she planned to get shit-faced drunk. Driving on an ice rink was not an option. So, she hustled her ass down the slick sidewalk with bits of salt crunching under the heels of her boots.

Valentine's Day...funny, she thought the most accursed holiday of the entire damn year was still a month away. Fat paper cherubs dangled from fishing line, smiling sappily down at her from the store window. The chocolates in their lace trimmed and red velvet heart shaped boxes and vases brimming with baby's breath and red roses made her want to puke. She'd hold back the urge. Some idiot would probably slip and fall when her vomit froze to the sidewalk and then would end up being her patient.

Shivering in her leather coat, she pulled the collar up higher on her neck and walked as fast as she dared over the frozen wasteland of a sidewalk. She didn't know what day it was. She didn't care. She'd had a shit day at work. She was off tomorrow. And everything else was inconsequential. These days, she sought warmth wherever she could find it. Whether it was found in a bottle of Jack Daniels or in Thomas's bed. The source didn't matter as much as the end result. She looked forward to the temporary thawing. The warm thrill of summer sunshine she found riding on the heels of a good drunk or a great orgasmic rush.

It always ended the same way between them, a quickly negotiated truce from their mutual hatred of one another, a satisfying tumble in the sheets, and then, out the door. Sometimes, they went to her place. Sometimes, they went to his. Sheet washing duties were shared with the same carefully negotiated terms as they shared their bodies. And that was exactly how they wanted it.

Sure, maybe it made her a shallow bitch. Thomas was like a lost puppy she'd fed once and left out on the porch stoop in hopes he'd wander off to beg scraps from someone else's table. The thing was, nobody else was inclined to take him in. He kept wandering back to her doorstep and she kept feeding him. She'd let him in only to toss him back out in the cold. Maybe, they were both shallow in this thing...whatever it was that wasn't a relationship and had somehow managed to evolve into an endless string of one-night stands.

Jan flipped the cherubs the bird and rounded the corner. The welcome sign hanging in the One Shot's window tinted the dingy snow with a neon glow. The colored lights were the only splash color in this bleak, dark frozen wasteland of a town. She'd never lived in a town so small that she could go bar hopping and never leave her seat. People talked. People gossiped. And they gossiped about Thomas and her. Let them. That was her policy on the subject. At least it kept the one-toothed wonders, family tree doesn't fork, and bathing is an option type of local redneck men from hitting on her.

The big talk, whispered when she was well out of earshot, was if Thomas were going to pop the question this Valentine's Day or not. As if! Thomas wasn't popping any question. At least, not that question and not to her any time soon or ever. They weren't going steady. This wasn't high school. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. They were fuck buddies. And that was as far as this no strings, non-relationship, no hearts and flowers, or sappy love songs agreement between them went.

She hadn't come here to fall in love. She didn't have time for a relationship. And their non-relationship suited her just fine. She came...boy did she ever come. Or he came...and came again. And then it was over and done. No hassles. No messy entanglements. No escape clause necessary. That was the essence of the two or three hour truces between them that brought them together again and again. When they weren't between the sheets, they were at war.

Thomas was a great guy. Just not the kind of guy she thought was great in any other capacity other than the bedroom. He was stuck on himself, moody, egotistical, and he didn't want a relationship anymore than she did.

She'd picked this dark spot in the center of the universe for its obscurity. She'd come here to blend in and to hide from the things she couldn't change. Sex was a prison from which she could not escape. She'd found a partner where she'd least expected it. Love couldn't be in the equation. Ever. It was strange, if she'd just stayed put, she could have had all the sex she'd ever wanted. She could have had it with all the functionality and casualness of a one-night stand. Love would have never have been expected or even an afterthought. Theirs would have been a loveless commitment of coming together of bodies with only one end result in mind. The babies he'd make and she'd deliver into the cruelty and callousness of their world. And she'd wanted no part of it...of this world into which she had been born.

She was quite literally the prized show dog in the arena. The bitch. Her purchase price was power and the prestige that came along with it. In the process of avoiding that trap, she'd stepped right into another. Thomas claimed he wanted nothing from her. And she repeated the mantra over and over in her head. He was not a cruel man. He was not heartless. He said the things he needed to say and she needed him to say in order to secure his spot in her bed. And she said the things he needed her to say and she needed to say to secure her spot in his.

They both said the words and if asked, in their hearts of hearts, meant them. But, neither one of them actually believed the promises that tumbled from their lips in the fragile negotiations and subsequent truces. They were nothing and everything together. They had sex. They'd never made love. They hated each other for the simple reason that there was no other outlet for their emotions or for the forbidden curse of a love neither of them wanted.

His body said the things to her that could never pass his lips. Her body repeated the unsaid and unwanted with the same hot passion. He handled her too gently. His hands roamed her curves with the self-assured possessiveness of a man certain of what belonged to him. And she, how many times had he gotten her there and she'd cried out his name? Not something a woman who didn't love would do. His name was a bitter obscenity, shouted in the storm of orgasm and it rang like thunder in her ears.

Jan stomped the snow from her boots and took a deep breath. Tonight, the bar was the only hot spot in this cold, cold town. From the other side of the door, shut tight to keep out the frigid northern wind. She heard the twang of bad country music and hushed whisper of whisky fueled conversation. She could feel the chill of the doorknob biting through her gloves as she stood there debating. Icy bits of sleet mixed with the falling snow flitting down from a black, starless sky. In or out, decisions like this shouldn't be so difficult. But, for some reason, tonight, they were.

She was a woman of contradictions. She kept secrets she couldn't tell. She lived a borrowed, temporary life. She hid from and ran to the same thing. She stole magic only to give it back. And she loved a man she wished she hated.

Jan pushed open the door. Her senses were assaulted by the smell of old grease, sweat, stale beer, and the pungent reek of drunken despair. The toe of her boot had barely crossed the threshold when she saw him. His body swiveled toward the door as if he'd been expecting her. And who knew. Maybe, he had been.

The seat beside him was empty. And a fresh glass of Jack and coke sat sweating despite the chill at the vacant spot. He tipped his head to her and without a word, swiveled on his stool and watched her approach through the mirror behind the bar. She ignored the curious stares and bravely walked across the floor. Not bothering to shrug out of her coat or with any pretense of pleasantry. She took her first sip of courage, accepting his invitation and calling the temporary truce necessary to land her in his arms for one more night.

Thomas had his share of contradictions too. He kept secrets that weren't his to keep. He bedded her. He loved her. But, his loyalty and his heart belonged to a woman who loved another man. He was bruised. But, not battered. And he dashed himself over and over again on the rocks of this non-relationship between the two of them when he deserved and secretly wanted so much more.

The rush of good whisky went straight to her head. But, the warmth surging through her veins came straight from him. Without a word passed between them, he finished his drink and slid into his coat. She watched him from the mirror behind the bar as he walked out the door. Not one to waste, she slammed back her drink and slid from the stool. Tracing his footsteps through the freshly fallen snow and layer of ice, Jan found her way to his house. The front door was open in waiting as if he knew she'd let herself in. And naturally, she did.

Chapter 1

The winter was damned cold and mercilessly long. A pale yellow sun sank low into the western sky as night dropped her dark velvet skirts over the small town. Adding to the cold chill that drove down deep into Kacie's bones. She hunkered into what bit of warmth she could muster out of her goose down coat and heavy, faux fur, lined hood. Burrowing her face into the thick scarf around her neck to keep the tip of her nose from freezing off.

She was on a mission. Find her sister and drag her kicking and screaming, if she had to, back to their home in South Texas. God, she missed Texas. Sure, it snowed, occasionally. Yeah, it got cold. But, a few chilly days in December were nothing in comparison to the biting February wind, sleet, and constant flakes of snow raining down on her. Of all the godforsaken places her sister could have chosen, why here?

She'd spent the better part of last year, and all of this year, so far, tracking Jan across the United States. Finally, her sister settled in one place for long enough to be found. She knew her sister's love of nursing and that was how she'd located her. Jan had gotten her nursing license. So, finding the state had taken a whole five minutes worth of research on the Internet. Of course, the downside, she had spent the better part of a year calling and chasing blind leads across this frozen wasteland loosely called the heartland, trying to pin Jan down. This tiny burg had to be the right place. It was the only place left she hadn't looked.

Her mother's warning rang in her ears. Come home with Jan in tow or don't come home at all. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? Her mother had been little help, except for funding this expedition in futility. Her mother had done nothing at all besides issue threats that she couldn't follow through on. Leaving her beloved youngest daughter to do all the work.

Kacie missed her big sister almost as much as she missed Texas. But, her mission to find her older sister was business, urgent business. Everyone back home had grown weary of her sister's exodus and her mother's placating promises that Jan would return soon. When Jan left and didn't come back. She'd placed her whole family in a very precarious situation. And now it was up to Kacie to fix it.

Kacie knew abandoning them wasn't what Jan intended to do. She had enough loyalty in her to not risk their lives. Jan's destiny had been planned for her from the moment of her birth. And she'd walked away from it, never looking back. Not that Kacie could blame her. She would have stepped in and taken her sister's place, if she could have. But, being second born was without rank or privilege. Jan had the ace. She'd been born with it in her hand. She'd discarded the only card she had to play that was worth a shit and along with it her predetermined destiny.

Without Jan, her mother didn't have any cards left to play. Kacie didn't begrudge Jan for wanting her freedom. As a second born, Kacie could do whatever she wanted to with her life. Jan had the honor of carrying on the family responsibilities. And what responsibilities they were. Passing on their precious inherited genetic code to the next line of heirs. Her husband had been chosen for her from the best of the best that DNA had to offer, ensuring the strength of the bloodline survived.

Yeah, Jan was a lucky girl. The guy, her fiancée, was the stuff of a girl's wet dreams. Torr had a body that promised to deliver the goods. He was tall, standing almost six-four, with six-pack abs and a broad chest. Thick, dark walnut hair that curled around a hard jaw and masculine face. His lips were full and looked so damnably soft. Made for kissing and suckling all those secret places that a girl wouldn't even tell her closest friends about. He had piercing hazel eyes that shimmered with flecks of gold and could make a girl want to get naked for him with nothing more than just a glance. Kacie would have gladly stood in for her sister. If for no other reason than to see if the guy was as good as he looked.

Her sister had always been a rebel. She was one of the few who had complete control of her shifts and refused to give into the natural impulses of her body. When their mother tried to force her to marry Torr, Jan had a meltdown. Refusing to marry someone that she didn't love. Hell, they'd met only once. And she didn't even like him. Not in the least. Kacie supposed that Jan was right. The guy was nice in the eye candy department. But, personality wise, there wasn't love for anyone, except for himself. And yuck, who wanted a guy like that no matter how pretty he was?

Jan had staved off the inevitable coupling for years. Insisting on getting her Master's degree in nursing first. Jan took her time, attending every class that she could. Using her degree to buy her time as she looked for an out. Meanwhile, the guy had grown impatient and had sewn more than one field of wild oats. Poor bastard. Some of those seeds took root. And Kacie didn't want to think about what his father probably did to the weeds that sprang up. It was a cruel injustice of their world. Either you were purebred genetically or you weren't...you just weren't... as in didn't exist, weren't.

In the world of werewolves, compatibility had nothing to do with a mating. The strong were paired and carefully matched based on their ability to carry on the genetic line. Everyone else, like her, got what was left. Kacie considered herself lucky. She wasn't a firstborn. And was therefore free to marry anyone of her choosing. As long as they met with her mother's approval and they weren't too closely genetically related or anything weird like that.