Light of Dawn

by Angela Colsin

  “Lightning revitalizes those of my House.”

  “Your … house?”

  “Long story,” he stated, kicking the man's body to make sure he was actually dead. When the corpse only jostled from the blow, the draconian finally gave Charlotte his full attention.

  She flinched at his expression, noticing his pupils were slitted when his horns were visible, which only made him look even more intimidating.

  Backing away from the muscular draconian, she asked innocently, “What?”

  Ulric continued toward her, growling lowly, “Why did you run?”

  “Why do you think?” she shot back, returning the anger.

  “You're not completely safe during the day!”

  “How was I supposed to know those … ,” she trailed, realizing she didn't even know who or what had attacked her. “What are they anyway?”

  “Daywalkers, the seeds of vampires, humans who've been bitten and taken blood from their sire, but still carry life in them.”

  At that, he grasped her wrist and pulled her in closer to stop her continued retreat, adding, “They're human for all intents and purposes, but nearly as fast and strong as a vampire, not to mention under the control of the one whose blood they drank.”

  Charlotte wasn't certain she wanted to hear anymore, but Ulric didn't even give her the time to ask questions when he started to walk with her wrist still in his hand.

  “Let go of me!” she demanded.

  In response, Ulric stopped without a word, then turned to lean down and unceremoniously throw her over his shoulder. Charlotte gasped, finding herself upside down as he started walking again.

  “I said let go, damn you!”

  “You test my patience more than any woman I've ever met, Charlotte,” he grumbled, “but I've made a promise, and if I have to, I'll protect you from yourself.”

  “You can't carry me all the way back to your car like this!”

  “Watch me.”

  “Ulric, I'm serious. I haven't eaten, and this is making me feel sick.”

  That seemed to work. Ulric slowed to a stop and let her down, but he didn't release her, keeping her wrist secured in his large hand as he looked her in the eyes and dictated, “Don't do that again, Charlotte. You may not trust me, but I'm not going to hurt you, especially when we made a deal, or did you forget?”

  “No, I didn't forget, but you wouldn't let me call my friend to warn him!”

  “Why would I? He'd probably dump the box before we could get there.”

  “He still deserves to know that his life could be in danger!”

  Ulric started walking again as she'd spoken, and Charlotte hurried to keep up with his long strides, arguing the whole way. “You said other people were after the box, so what if they show up first? What if we get there and find him dead!”

  “As long as the box is still there, I don't care.”

  That was the last straw, enraging Charlotte to the point that she found the strength to jerk her arm away from him. The move surprised Ulric into silence as he looked back with confusion in his eyes while she gave him a proper earful.

  “And you wonder why I tried to leave despite our deal? That's why! You don't give a shit about anything but getting that box, and you're only protecting me because I can lead you to it. I don't know how you treat your friends, but I sure as hell want to keep mine informed if their lives are on the line!”

  She didn't stop there, walking ahead while adding, “So the deal's off. I don't give a damn if daywalkers, vampires, or fucking tooth fairies are trying to kill me, I'm going to find a phone and let him know that because of me, he might be dead tomorrow, or today for that matter.”

  “Where do you think you're going?”

  It was apparent that he was following her now, and Charlotte retorted without looking back, “To the hotel where I can find a phone, give the warning, and get a cab so I can get away from you, that's where you gigantic pain in the ass!”

  Suddenly, Ulric grabbed her shoulder, and Charlotte would've shrugged away, but the notice of something being held out in front of her made her pause. As her vision focused on the object, she realized Ulric was offering his phone, and cast her green eyes up to his face as he spoke.

  “I'm not unreasonable, lady. If you need to call him, then call him, but stop wandering off on your own. I'd want to protect you regardless of the deal we made.”

  That sounded suspicious, but Charlotte was too surprised by his offer to really think about it just then. “What about last night? You cut the phone cord, Ulric.”

  “Last night was … ,” he trailed, then admitted sincerely, “I was irritated and wrongfully took it out on you, which I'm sorry about. You were right, I was being an asshole, and it wasn't warranted. But I do have friends, and like you, I wouldn't leave them in the dark. Just … don't tell yours the entire truth unless you really want a mess on your hands.”

  Her previous ire began to melt away, so pleased—and surprised—by his offer that she snatched the phone without a word, letting Ulric drag her along as she dialed Julian's number.

  She was also stunned by Ulric's unexpected apology. It was very sincere, and could've been just a temporary change of heart, but Charlotte decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and admit that maybe she was wrong about him.

  Maybe there was more to Ulric after all.

  Chapter 10

  Julian wasn't answering his phone.

  As they traveled down the highway, Charlotte tried to contact him three times, and no one ever picked up. But it was possible that he wasn't home, or simply didn't recognize the number, so she wasn't worried, deciding to just leave a message saying to call her back.

  Ulric's earlier change of heart seemed to be enduring as well. He freely gave his number to put in the message for Julian, and that wasn't the only surprise he had up his sleeve. When she got in his car, there was a bag of essentials for a road trip waiting, including travel sized shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, a toothbrush, hair brush, and soap. It's almost … sweet of him.

  But Ulric didn't gloat over the offering, merely saying he'd picked it up while fueling his car that morning, and also informed her that his brother was going to get her cat for safe keeping until things were settled.

  Charlotte thanked him for the unexpected consideration, hoping he remained this agreeable for the rest of the trip.

  Not long after they got started, they swung by a place to eat, and she ordered a chicken salad, deciding on something light when she was going to be strapped to the seat of a car for several hours. The only trouble was that the meal didn't supply fries, and Charlotte found herself covetously staring at Ulric's.

  It wasn't long before he saw her looking either. “What?”

  “I wanted fries,” she muttered.

  “Then why'd you order rabbit food?”

  “It's not rabbit food, see, there's chunks of chicken.”

  Ulric glanced at her salad and then back at the road, smirking, “Point taken. But you're not getting my fries.”

  “Butthead,” she muttered, and saw Ulric grinning in amusement, which only made him even more handsome. As if he needs the help.

  His markings drew her attention again, and she wondered where they led beneath his shirt. Across his chest? His back? Both? Why do I want to know so badly?

  It felt too personal to ask, though she did inquire, “Why do your marks glow sometimes, Ulric?”

  “It's called Wrath,” he responded simply. “It happens when we get pissed, or lose control.”

  “So it's an intimidation tactic?”

  “You could think of the marks that way. We're more violent and impulsive in Wrath. Stronger, faster, more resilient. It's the dragon blood in us coming to life.”

  The horns, fangs, and slitted pupils were clear evidence of that, and Charlotte could see how the altered state would have its advantages. Actually, now that she wasn't so shocked by everything, it seemed kind of interesting.

  But she didn't get a chance
to ask more questions when Ulric queried, “Now that I've answered you, it's only fair that you tell me who Mitchell is, and why he gave you a bag of movies, games, and a key.”

  In an instance, Charlotte's mood soured. “Why'd you go through my things?”

  “I was curious and you weren't talking,” he admitted shamelessly.

  She grumbled, then looked out the window. Even though he'd satisfied her curiosity, his question was personal. “Can we have some music in here?”

  “Avoiding the topic?”

  “Sort of. I just don't want to talk about him.”

  “Must be an ex boyfriend.”

  Ulric almost sounded hopeful, and Charlotte wasn't sure why, looking to see a bland expression on his face like the food he'd just bitten into didn't agree with him.

  “Ex husband, actually,” she corrected.

  Ulric suddenly choked on his drink. Tugging the straw from his mouth, he stared at her briefly, asking, “Him? He was your husband?”

  Yet another curious reaction. “Why are you so shocked?”

  Ulric grumbled, stating, “He just looks like he keeps a stick up his ass.”

  Suddenly, Charlotte was finding it difficult not to crack a smile. Edith said the same thing because Mitchell was so serious about work and rarely took time off. So the fact that Ulric had only looked at her ex and come to the same conclusion was humorous.

  As she fought her amusement, she retorted, “He does not!”

  “If you say so, but he'd make a good flagpole doing a handstand.”

  For the first time since Charlotte had received the curse box, she laughed out loud. Mitchell could definitely be a workaholic. When they'd met, he was about to graduate from college, and the job he'd acquired afterward was a lifelong goal.

  So Mitchell was serious about it—sometimes to an irritating degree.

  But Charlotte had fallen in love with his sense of humor and his consideration, something that seemed to fade away the moment they stood at the altar and said I do. Suddenly, she couldn't do anything sufficiently, and they'd argued several times about how her own occupation wasn't good enough.

  True, she didn't relish working at a call center, but it was secure and paid the bills, so she was grateful to have it when jobs were so scarce.

  Now, she only wondered why Mitchell hadn't put as much effort into their marriage as he did his career.

  Her mirth faded away with the thought as Ulric mentioned, “I didn't think you were capable of laughing.”

  She didn't feel like she was anymore if she were honest with herself. Edith seemed to be the only person who could really get her to smile nowadays, so it was surprising that Ulric, who she wasn't sure she even liked, had managed to accomplish the feat.

  “What's wrong?”

  Ulric must have noticed her expression, and Charlotte merely shrugged. “Nothing, I was just thinking about my divorce, not something I want to talk to you about.”

  He grew quiet in response, as if considering whether or not he wanted to fish for information. “You still have feelings for him?”

  “It was only a month ago that the papers were signed, three months since the separation, so kind of, I guess.”

  She glanced over and spied a most unpleasant look on his face as he asked, “Then why did you divorce him?”

  “He divorced me. There were a number of reasons.”

  As much as she didn't want to talk about it, Ulric's reactions were almost enough to change her mind. Now, he looked surprised, as if thinking Mitchell was crazy for divorcing her, or he simply couldn't understand what possible reasons there may have been to leave her.

  Both thoughts suggested he was defensive of her side of things, just like when he'd confronted Mitchell in the hotel, and Charlotte still had no idea why.

  But damned if she didn't want to find out.

  Ulric regretted asking about Mitchell more and more.

  When the fact registered that she'd been married to him, Ulric nearly turned the car around to find the mortal. The only thought that stopped him was for what, exactly? Why is it so important?

  The feeling that swept over him could only be described as possessiveness, and the more he learned about her divorce, the more curious he became, but the less he wanted to ask when his reactions were so visceral. Hearing Charlotte still harbored some feelings for the guy was like taking another fist to the gut, as if she should've never loved him to begin with.

  If Ulric didn't know any better, he would've honestly thought Charlotte was his destined mate, but that was impossible. Mortals and immortals didn't mix, so the only mate he could have would possess an unending lifespan, cutting Charlotte from the picture.

  Unless her fae side had something to do with it.

  The thought reminded Ulric that some mortal half breeds could eventually transition into immortality. But, did the fae qualify?

  Saying they did, and Charlotte became immortal, could she be … his?

  Ulric pushed the thought from his mind the moment it entered, knowing better than to let his imagination run wild without knowing the facts—particularly when it concerned his mate. He'd wondered about who and what she was for so many years that just considering the woman sitting next to him might be it had his gut clenching with painful want.

  “Ulric,” Charlotte started, breaking through his thoughts, “are you okay? You look a little pissed off.”

  “I'm fine,” he retorted, deciding not to ask anymore about her history and let this be the end of it all. I don't need this kind of frustration, or temptation.

  “Okay,” she drew out uncertainly. “Then can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Back at the power station, you told me you'd want to protect me regardless of our deal. Why is that?”

  “I loathe vampires and wouldn't want to let anyone die at their hands. Or live at them.”

  He glanced to the side, seeing that she seemed to believe him, and put his eyes back on the road with nothing more to say. Just when things grew quiet inside the traveling vehicle, a soft screech came from the backseat.

  Rozdra was awakening as she sometimes did during the day, and was likely irritated by being in a car so often ever since his brother, Liam, dropped her off. Her normal living space was the vast yard surrounding Liam's mountain home, but with him being on a job where he couldn't bring her along, she was stuck riding for the time being.

  “Ulric, what was—oh my god!”

  Charlotte made the exclamation when Rozdra hopped up onto the back of the passenger's seat and opened her wings, sniffing at the human who'd been so startled she'd thrown herself against the door. She stared with wide eyes as the baby wyvern drew closer, curiously inspecting her.

  “Rozdra,” Ulric started, speaking draconic to get her attention.

  The wyvern finally backed off just as Charlotte overcame her fright and leaned up, gazing at the creature in complete awe.

  “It's a dragon!”

  Her excitement over seeing what mortals viewed as being a mythical creature had Ulric grinning before he could stop himself. Wiping the expression from his face in stubborn refusal to let Charlotte's joy affect him, he corrected her.

  “She's a baby wyvern, not a dragon.”

  Charlotte didn't seem to care in particular, asking, “Can I touch her?”

  Before the words were out of her mouth, Rozdra hopped from the seat and into Charlotte's lap, looking up and sniffing all around as if in complete approval of the mortal's presence—strangely enough.

  The woman stroked her fingers along the blue wyvern's head and down the long neck, realizing that the spines were sharp. “Was that her name you just said? Rozdra?”

  “Yes,” Ulric replied, then heard her giggling and looked to see the wyvern ticklishly sniffing along her neck.

  “Where did she come from?” Charlotte asked between snickers.

  “That's hard to explain, but she's in my brother's care until she's older to keep poachers from killing her for her scal
es. Wyverns are endangered, and the babies are easily picked off.”

  “She's beautiful. How big will she get?”

  “About the size of a home.”

  “Does she breathe fire?”

  “No, electricity, like those of my House.”

  “You still never explained that house thing.”

  “I … ,” Ulric trailed, finding himself both pleased over her curiosity, and displeased that he was pleased. The contradictory emotions were agitating, so he spoke in short, “Different dragons have different clans, which we call Houses. That's the simplest I can put it.”

  Ulric spied a disappointed look on Charlotte's face, saying she wanted to hear more about his kind, and he grumbled in frustration. “Why are you asking? I thought you just wanted to get this all over with.”

  “I was starting to think maybe you weren't so bad, and it might be worth talking to you. Guess I was wrong.”

  Ulric didn't answer, sitting there for several long moments warring with himself on what to do. His foremost thought was to remain silent and prove that she was wrong. But another part of him wanted to give her the answers she sought because it would please her—and promptly, he reminded himself that Charlotte's pleasure wasn't the reason he was there.

  But by the Gods, I wish it was.

  The sudden thought had Ulric pulling into another lane.

  “What are you doing?” Charlotte asked in confusion.

  “Rest stop,” he explained as plainly as possible, taking an exit ramp. “Do you need to go?”

  “It wouldn't hurt,” she replied, cradling Rozdra in her arm.

  The wyvern was now curled up with her head tucked under a wing, looking as comfortable as she'd ever been, and seeing it only made him want to like the woman even more.

  A few minutes later, he stopped in the parking lot of a highway rest area and turned off the ignition, telling Charlotte, “I'll be here making a call.”

  “Okay,” she acknowledged, lifting Rozdra to deposit into the backseat before climbing out.

  Once alone, Ulric watched Charlotte until she disappeared into the restroom, then lifted his phone and called Isadora, but only got her voice mail—and it'd changed.