Light of Dawn

by Angela Colsin

  Ulric grumbled, saying the fact annoyed him greatly. Standing once the body and the blood staining his clothing had turned to ash, conveniently blowing away with the breeze, he gave a simple answer.

  “I don't have any friends close by who could offer a quick pick up, so we'll just have to make our way on foot, get a rental car, and find a place to lay low for a while.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, thunder sounded, and the rains became a little heavier with a cold gust of wind passing through. Charlotte sighed, getting the feeling she was going to be an icicle before their walk was over.

  But she didn't complain aloud, following Ulric to the back of his vehicle where he finished off the vampire Rozdra temporarily put down, then opened the trunk. What Charlotte saw inside nearly floored her—it was a small armory with three swords of differing styles, a crossbow, ammunition, and a few firearms.

  “You had this the entire time?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn't you break something out earlier?”

  “Didn't need to,” he shrugged, showing confidence in his abilities without using a lot of weaponry.

  Charlotte couldn't argue after what she'd seen either, and decided to change the subject. “So who was that woman anyway?”

  “I'll explain later, we need to get out of here before she regroups and tries again.”

  She couldn't argue with that, watching as, out of everything he had in his trunk, Ulric grabbed what looked like the most useless item, being a wooden case that was designed with intricate carvings on the sides—very pretty, but nonetheless seemingly unhelpful.

  He also grabbed a small duffel bag as Charlotte asked, “What's that?”

  “Just a few supplies. Come on, and stay close,” he replied, shutting the trunk and pocketing his keys.

  “What about Rozdra?”

  Ulric came to a sudden stop, grumbling. “I keep forgetting I'm babysitting her. Grab her carrier in the backseat. She'll have to stay with us for now.”

  She did as directed with the wyvern on her shoulder the entire time, grabbing her own bags in addition to the carrier, and they began walking to the nearest car rental agency.

  On the way, Charlotte had the sinking feeling things were only just beginning.

  Chapter 13

  “Doesn't it hurt?”

  The shard of glass clattered into the sink after Ulric removed it from his arm, blood staining the white ceramic and running down his skin in small rivulets. Though it hadn't been terribly hard to remove, he wasn't quite done.

  “That didn't,” he grumbled, inspecting the bullet wound in his shoulder next, his black horns glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. “But this will.”

  After walking for half an hour to a rental car agency, Ulric procured a newer model four door pick up truck—which he'd definitely opted to get insurance on—and drove to a large hotel near a highway turnoff where he could tend to his wounds. On the way, he'd called Dalris with a heads up about his ruined vehicle so his brother could send someone out to take care of it.

  His injuries had him in Wrath the entire way, and after digging the glass out with a pair of prongs, next were the bullets. Ulric hated fishing for them, but it was better than cutting open a wound that had healed over one.

  The ornate wooden case he'd pulled from his trunk earlier was now settled on the counter next to the sink, and he'd explained to Charlotte that it was where he stored medical supplies and potions of varying uses. When it stood idle, the case didn't appear to have any way of being opened, but it was enchanted to only do so with his touch.

  As Ulric pressed his thumb into an indent on the front latch, a crease spanning the diameter of the container faded into view, and he simply lifted the lid.

  The inside was lined with a deep red velvet material and had vials of assorted sizes carrying potions with labels on them written in his native language. A slat in the top half possessed medical instruments, and he grabbed a set of prongs with wider tips than those he'd used for the glass.

  Charlotte's eyes were glued to the instrument as she asked uncertainly, “Are you sure about this?”

  “If I wait much longer, the wound will heal and I'll have to cut it open again.”

  Ulric wasted no time, pushing the prongs into the wound, letting a low snarl as he searched around. More blood began flowing down his arm, and he noticed Charlotte cringing as if she could feel the pain.

  Thankfully, the bullet was shallow, and he pulled it out with little effort, letting it fall into the sink with the glass.

  Releasing a breath, he muttered, “One more to go,” and handed Charlotte the prongs.

  “What?” she asked, taking them uncertainly. “Me?”

  He turned so that his back was facing her, the bullet wound on the lower left side deeper than the one in his shoulder. He hated to ask her to do this, but if he didn't, one of his brothers would later, and he relished the thought of them going after it even less than a mortal with little skill regarding medicine.

  “I can't,” she started, “trust me, I'm clumsy and might stab a kidney or something.”

  Ulric scoffed, replying, “I can handle the fact that you're not a surgeon.”

  “But what if I really hurt you, and you react violently? You're in Wrath, so it's easier to set you off now, right?”

  The question was valid, and she had a point, he was definitely easier to anger in this state. But Ulric turned his head to look her over, knowing in his gut that what he was about to promise was the absolute truth.

  “I'd never hurt you, Charlotte, Wrath or not.”

  Though her expression was worried, it softened as if she believed him.

  “Okay,” she muttered, “But … I'm sorry in advance.”

  “Apology accepted,” he replied, bracing his hands on the wall just as she pushed the end of the prongs into the wound slowly, having to feel inside for the bullet.

  Ulric cringed, and when she paused because of his tensing, he grated the words, “Don't stop until it's out.”

  Grumbling, Charlotte got back to work, prodding the flesh inside his open wound until Ulric's claws slowly tore into the plaster covering the walls. Still, he had no urge to threaten her away, as if he'd let her gouge him however she felt if it made her happy, enduring the pain until finally, she found the bullet.

  “Got it!” she announced, steadily pulling it out so she wouldn't hurt him anymore than she had to, then dropped it into the sink with the rushed apology, “I'm sorry, Ulric!”

  He remembered to breath, panting with the relief of having both wounds cleared of foreign objects while waving a hand as if to wave it all away.

  “I'm fine,” he reassured her, turning to see the most concerned expression he ever remembered anyone giving him. Charlotte's soft lips pursed as if unconvinced, and only one thing occurred to him in response—She's gorgeous.

  The thought didn't bother him now as it had before. It felt natural to consider her beauty, even praise her for it. Lifting a hand to her jaw and sweeping his thumb across her cheek, Ulric added softly, “You didn't hurt me.”

  She blushed, which had a slow smile forming on his face while he struggled to remember why he was holding back, why he shouldn't just lean down and learn the taste of her lips.

  If he'd thought resisting the urge to get physically closer would be easy, he'd been completely wrong. All he could think about was kissing her, pulling her body against his and learning every inch of it as thoroughly as possible—and the idea didn't repulse him whatsoever.

  He'd never once felt as if breaking his vow would be acceptable before she came along, but now, Ulric would've given anything for that chance.

  Thunder sounded outside, breaking through his stupor. He needed a few minutes to sort things out, and the storm would be helpful in his regeneration anyway. So he pulled his hand from her cheek and headed to the door.

  “I'll be back in a few minutes,” he announced, grabbing a damp wash clothe on the way out to wipe up th
e blood drying on his skin. “Just wait here.”

  Ulric made his way through the hotel and up one of the maintenance shafts on the top floor, then to the highest point of the roof he could find. On the way, he recalled his impatience to get rid of Charlotte the previous night, wondering how quickly a person's opinion could change.

  He'd had misgivings about what she was from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, but vow or not, and regardless of her mortality, Ulric wanted Charlotte for certain.

  It was a telling sign, convincing him even more that Dalris was right, and if she transitioned—saying it was possible—he'd recognize her as his.

  But the trouble was wondering how well she'd take to the truth. Even if Ulric cared to keep his feelings a secret, he realized now that couldn't when her safety after they'd reached Tallahassee was a new priority.

  Getting Charlotte to a Spire was his best bet, but she'd ask why he'd take the time out to ensure her protection when it wasn't a part of their bargain. Ulric couldn't lie about it, and she was already adjusting to so much that her reaction to hearing you might be my mate, so I'll do anything within my power to keep you safe probably wouldn't be very positive.

  Still, what choice did he have? He could lie and upset her later, or tell the truth and upset her now.

  Ulric sincerely hated a no win situation.

  Charlotte didn't remember to exhale until Ulric left.

  When they arrived at the hotel, and he'd removed his shirt to tend his wounds, she couldn't help staring. Not only was his body incredibly well defined, but she'd been exceedingly curious about where the marks on his face led after disappearing beneath his clothing.

  Now she had her answer.

  At his throat, the marks turned across his collar where they split into two lines instead of one, traveling down around his pectorals and over his ribs before tapering off into sharp points just above the waistband of his jeans. In Wrath, they were glowing blue.

  As Charlotte trailed their course across his sculpted frame with her eyes, the urge to trace them with her fingers nearly overwhelmed her—until she realized she was staring and promptly looked away. She couldn't entirely blame herself for admiring him, however. Ulric was, in her opinion, simply built to perfection.

  But those thoughts faded entirely at his request for medical aid. The thought of getting a violent reaction if she caused him pain was alarming, though she somehow believed his claim of never hurting her—which was a good thing considering the bullet's removal was no cakewalk for either of them.

  But the way he'd looked at her afterward, and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek made Charlotte forget where they were. The urge to lean into his palm had grown stronger by the second. So she was grateful when he left, otherwise she would've embarrassed herself without thinking, endeavoring to push the stupid, sexy draconian out of her head as soon as she was alone.

  The fact that she'd hated him so much that morning only to find herself admiring him now was irritating. There was too much on her plate to think about attraction or anything remotely similar. Julian hadn't called back, which was starting to worry her, and though they'd traveled across three states that day, vampires still found them.

  Not to mention, she wasn't even sure what she was now. Part fae? What did it mean, aside from her blood possibly being a delicacy?

  Charlotte had even began wondering why Ulric was still protecting her. Lillian made him an offer for something that could've possibly trumped her deal, but he'd continued to fight, claiming he'd never negotiate with a vampire.

  Still, she'd reasoned if he found me, what's stopping him from finding Julian on his own? The thought was disconcerting, and she tried to distract herself from worrying about it by cleaning up the bathroom.

  Turning on the faucet to wash the blood down the sink, she was simultaneously astonished that she'd come out of everything without a scratch. Carefully, she plucked up the bullets and the shard of glass to throw away, then opened Ulric's duffel bag.

  In it was clothing he carried for emergencies, and Charlotte decided to grab one of his black shirts because her own was still stained with blood from being bitten. Not to mention it was wet and cold from the rain—again—so she peeled it off along with her jacket and put the bigger garment on.

  It hung down to her thighs and off of one shoulder, but as long as it was clean and dry, Charlotte didn't care. She also decided to forgo a bath, worried someone might show up while she was alone, and only cleaned off using the sink water and the toiletries Ulric had provided her instead.

  Turning off the light, she walked back into the main room of the hotel, passing a window when lightning flashed outside. Stepping over to look out at the storm, she thought about everything she'd learned in the past twenty-four hours alone, as well as her immediate future.

  And damned if it wasn't depressing.

  What would happen after Tallahassee? She'd likely never see Ulric again, so how would she get these vampires off her ass, particularly if she was in high demand?

  Watching the clouds while thinking it over, her eyes were quickly drawn to a section of the hotel's roof on another wing of the building across the way where a bolt suddenly struck down in a brief flash. Charlotte stood up straight, startled by the event, but relaxed when it didn't seem to do any damage.

  Still, as she observed the area it'd struck in more depth, her jaw went slack. “Oh my god.”

  Ulric was standing in that exact spot, and when her eyes focused, another bolt slammed into him. Waves of electricity rolled over his body a few times in the aftermath, the current dying out just as he was charged a third time, thunder sounding with the flashes.

  She could only imagine it was rejuvenating him like the power station had done earlier, and found herself awestruck by the sight. Whoever said lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice never met a draconian.

  The more she learned about Ulric, the more intriguing he became. It was so hard to believe he actually existed, and there were more like him, but there he was, standing on the roof soaking up a bit of electricity the way a human might soak up the sun's rays—and Charlotte couldn't tear her eyes away.

  “What the hell am I doing?” she asked aloud, abruptly turning from the window.

  The only good that came out of being so attracted to Ulric was the reassurance of her worry that she'd never get over Mitchell. In comparison to her growing interest in the draconian, Mitchell seemed like a distant afterthought.

  But it was unsettling to feel that way when she barely knew him. Letting a sigh, she decided it was just his supernatural qualities that had her so fascinated, and left it at that.

  Several moments after Charlotte sat on the couch to wait, Ulric stepped back inside, just as shirtless as when he'd left. Once more, her gaze roamed over him appreciatively. Okay, so maybe it's not just his supernatural traits.

  She forced her eyes away from his chest, mentioning, “I saw you outside. Feel better?”

  “Much,” he replied, looking her over curiously. “Is that my shirt?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Charlotte started, “I hope you don't mind, my top was stained and wet, so I borrowed one of yours.”

  “I don't mind,” he confirmed, walking to the bathroom to snag a clean shirt of his own—which did nothing to diminish his physical appeal.

  He almost seemed to like the way his shirt looked on her as well. But if getting Ulric's attention was actually a priority, she'd have a hell of a hard time doing it right now.

  Was he even single? He had to have a ton of women trying if not. True, some might find the markings on his face and along his chest to be a turn off—then again, most mortals couldn't see them—but to her, every definition, from his size to the vividly blue color of his eyes, was incredibly attractive.

  Realizing where her thoughts were going again, Charlotte pushed them away, focusing on something much more important.

  “So who's Lillian?”

  Ulric settled down across from her on the couch with one arm s
tretched over the back, answering, “Vampires have different factions, and Lillian is a magistrate of one called the Rymid. She's about my age, if not a little older, and shouldn't be underestimated.”

  Charlotte groaned. “I guess that means she won't be easy to get rid of.”

  “Probably not,” Ulric confirmed. “But I think I know how she found you so quickly.”

  “How?”

  “Have you donated blood recently?”

  That seemed like a strange question, but Charlotte answered honestly. “Just after I was married, why?”

  Ulric's expression became unsettled when she mentioned her marriage, nearly making Charlotte forget about the topic at hand in favor of asking why he always seemed so offended by her nuptials.

  But he beat her with a question of his own. “That was recent?”

  “Yes,” she muttered.

  “When were you married?”

  Wondering where this was going, she hesitantly answered, “Nine months ago.”

  Ulric sat forward, draping his arms across his knees while regarding her with narrowed brows. “You were only married for half a year?”

  “Ulric,” Charlotte grumbled, “just tell me why donating blood has anything to do with how they found us tonight.”

  He looked reluctant, but finally conceded. “If you donated, it's likely they found you through a blood bank. Sometimes vampires raid them when they're keeping a low profile, or to stock up for emergencies.”

  “That still doesn't explain it.”

  Sitting back again, he elaborated, “Vampires can track specific people after ingesting their blood. So it's likely Lillian's already drank yours, and that's how she found us. She may even still have it.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, blood is a powerful tool, and not just to vampires.”

  “But I donated months ago. My blood wouldn't be good for that long.”

  “They have more than science to rely on in keeping blood fresh, particularly when it comes from a living person. Yours probably sat in a vault, magically preserved, until one of them realized they liked it. This also explains why you never encountered any vampires before now.”