Watcher: Book I of The Chosen

by Roh Morgon

  The door to the office opens. His soft footfalls are accompanied by human ones, two sets of them.

  I sit up as Nicolas walks into the bedroom alone, closing the door behind him. He crosses the room and extends his hand. I take it and stand, and he pulls me to him and envelops me in his arms. I can feel his breath on my neck as his lips part, and he gently draws his fangs across my skin. My blood reignites and I press my throat against those daggers. He inhales sharply, then slowly pulls back until he is holding me by the shoulders.

  “Get dressed,” he says huskily.

  I’ll jump off a cliff if you ask me like that.

  Picking up my clothes that he had thoughtfully gathered and placed on a chair, I’m conscious of him watching me dress. It’s nearly as exciting as when he watched me undress.

  I finish buttoning my blouse, and Nicolas takes my hand and raises it to his lips, then kisses the inside of my wrist. He pushes up my sleeve, opens his mouth, and traces the veins of my arm with his fangs. Thin lines of blood appear, and he gently follows the red path with his tongue. I take a sharp breath and can’t let it out. He smiles wickedly as he rolls my sleeve back down and lowers my arm.

  Keeping hold of my hand, he leads me to the door and opens it. Two people—both human—are standing in the outer room. The young man and woman are both quite attractive and wearing the latest in club fashions. They try to act nonchalant as they sip from burgundy wineglasses, but their hammering hearts give away their anticipation.

  I look questioningly at Nicolas, but he all he answers me with is a seductive smile, his emerald eyes glittering as they change color. He leads me to one of the sofas and nods to indicate that I should sit down. As I do so, he signals the man over with a flick of his fingers and points to the spot next to me.

  The beast, already quite aroused, leaps within me, and I can barely restrain myself as the man quickly finishes his drink. He sets his glass on the table as he walks over and takes off his jacket. Eyes bright, he rolls up his sleeve and sits down close to me. I grit my teeth, struggling to maintain some sort of composure.

  Nicolas leads the woman over, takes her empty glass, and has her sit next to the man. Her eyes are shining, almost feverish, and her breathing is fast and shallow. Nicolas sits down on the other side of her, facing me. She turns to him and raises her arm, and he gently grabs hold. With his crimson eyes locked onto mine, he slowly sinks his fangs into the inside of her upper arm.

  She gasps, and the man beside me begins to breathe faster as he watches them. He then faces me and, quivering with excitement, raises his arm. I can barely keep control while I carefully slice it just above the elbow with my nail, then raise it to my lips. I take hold and look up to see Nicolas still watching me, waiting for me, and as I draw in my first mouthful, so does he.

  The savory nectar explodes in my mouth, and closing my eyes, I feel its heat bathe my throat as I swallow. The man groans in delight, and I open my eyes as I pull again. I realize that Nicolas has waited, watching, and is timing his pulls with mine, and I can hear her soft moans in response. The liquid ecstasy floods my system, working its way into my veins and bathing them with a sweet fire that flames anew with each mouthful. I watch Nicolas, his eyes crimson with pleasure as they watch me.

  Again I draw, harder, and the man moans as he climaxes. His reaction surprises me, but then I’m overcome by a wave of intoxication that breaks over me as I swallow his precious lifeblood. I close my eyes and draw again, and again, and slowly begin to lose myself to the rapture of the blood.

  Something is pressing hard against the side of my mouth and my eyes snap open. Nicolas is bending over me, increasing the pressure of his hand, and comprehension finally dawns. I reluctantly let go and the man slumps against the back of the couch.

  I look at him in alarm, but Nicolas shakes his head and pulls me to my feet. He kisses me, long and deep, and I can taste her blood in his mouth. He moves from my mouth to my jaw, and then with no warning, sinks his fangs into my throat. As before, I nearly collapse in ecstasy, and each mouthful he takes sends me further into euphoric oblivion.

  I am dimly aware of him withdrawing, then picking me up and carrying me into the bedroom. He gently lays me on the bed, and with a last kiss, leaves the room and closes the door.

  I drift off into a crimson world and fade into unconsciousness.

  április 20., péntek

  Tonight she finally met the Bastard. That unprincipled prick wasted no time in seducing her fully to our way of life. I do not think she realized who she was dealing with, and I cringe at how thoroughly he took advantage of her trusting nature.

  Even after all these centuries, he can still find a way to slip past my guard and take over.

  I can only be grateful that he stopped her from killing the human at the last moment.

  SATURDAY

  CHAPTER 44

  I wake and find myself still in my clothes. Confused, I start to sit up, and then the memories come flooding back. I sink back down with a gasp and relax into the soft haze of blood that still caresses my system. After a moment I force myself to sit up again, and as I move, my head begins to clear a little. The haziness fades and is replaced by an unbelievable energy. I stand and stretch, and every fiber in my body comes instantly alive.

  What an amazing feeling—to go from sweet lassitude to high octane in a matter of seconds.

  I survey the room, really seeing it for the first time. It’s a classic playboy den, though decorated very tastefully, and as I look around, I realize it’s meant for only one thing. Seduction.

  Smiling wryly, I recall what Nicolas said about Chosen hunting, and how the chase for them is the seduction and willing surrender.

  And then every hair on my body stands on end.

  Because that is exactly what Nicolas has been doing to me.

  Oh . . . my . . . God.

  Unnerved, I hug myself as doubts begin to swirl through my head. Panic floods through me and the memories of the last month begin to take on a different hue.

  The door opens and Nicolas comes in, his face taut, tension rolling from him in waves.

  “We need to go. Now. Something has come up, and I must get back to the Springs immediately. Are you ready?”

  Struck mute by my revelations, I can only nod in agreement.

  The Ferrari feels practically airborne as we speed south. I fight to quell the fears that keep surfacing, both the old ones and the new. I don’t know if I killed the young man from last night, and if so, that would mean Nicolas let me do it intentionally. He had me so aroused beforehand that I was no longer able to think, and all he had to do was point me in the direction he wanted and let go. I shudder at how easily I may have been manipulated—and desperately hope that is not the case.

  The image of the limp body sagging against the back of the couch surfaces, and I take it, stuff it into the black box, and slam the lid. My collection of memories that I don’t want to remember is steadily growing. I grimace and look out the window.

  The sun is just above the mountains to the west, and I wonder why I slept so long. How odd.

  I glance over at Nicolas. I had thought his agitation was in response to mine, but I can tell it’s much more than that.

  He’s tight-lipped, his eyes once again dark and faintly tinged with red. He hasn’t said a word since his announcement in the bedroom. My fears for myself soon become overshadowed by my concern for him.

  I finally reach across the chasm that separates us and touch his leg. His gaze flickers, and he places his hand over mine.

  We continue the remainder of the trip like this, unmoving and unable to speak to one another.

  The sun is setting when we pass through the gates. As we approach the house, a black sedan parked in front of the steps comes into view, and Nicolas curses under his breath. He pulls in ahead of it and shuts off the Ferrari.

  He sits for a moment, then says, “I have an unexpected, and frankly, unwelcome visitor. I think this might be a good time for you to vi
sit your home as you have spoken about doing. You may take this car.” His whole body is tense, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  “Okay.” Discussion does not seem to be an option right now.

  He opens his door and gets out, and as I grab the latch for mine, the front door of the house opens. Nicolas growls, then bends down and says, “Stay in the car.”

  A tall, statuesque female Chosen descends the steps, her dark red hair floating in waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing deep emerald slacks topped by a similar-colored satin blouse, a stunning contrast to her pale complexion and red hair. The surrounding porch lights cast shadows beneath sharp cheekbones and a bladelike nose, adding to the haughtiness of her expression.

  Copper-colored eyes, like those of a Persian cat, narrow as they fix their gaze first on me, then shift to settle it on Nicolas.

  “Nicky, Nicky. It is so good to see you. I am so glad you returned from your trip. You are just in time.”

  He walks up the steps and says, “Katarina, what are you doing here?”

  “Nicky, don’t be like that. Why, I am here to see you, and to meet your new lady friend. Is that her in the car?”

  She continues to walk down the stairs, but Nicolas stops right in front of her.

  “Nicolao, please be civil. I did not come here to fight.” Katarina makes a pouty face, which somehow looks very dangerous.

  “She was just leaving. She has important business she must attend to and cannot stay.” His stiff tone matches the ramrod-straightness of his back.

  “Well, surely she has enough manners to introduce herself before she leaves. I cannot imagine you would tolerate such rudeness.” She arches a red eyebrow and looks at him.

  I can feel the debate raging in him, and I don’t even have any of his blood.

  Opening my door, I start to get out. Nicolas turns, frowning, and is suddenly back at the car. Shaking his head, he reaches out his hand and I take it. His eyes are full of warning, and I realize why as I stand up. Powerful Elder energy is rolling off of Katarina, and it feels foreign and threatening, completely unlike Nicolas and his Council members.

  Not of his lineage. I remember what he said about The Chosen wars.

  The hunter in me snaps to attention, ready to defend her territory and her mate.

  Nicolas smiles tightly in response. He took my blood last night and can feel everything I feel. I smile back, suppressing a growl, and shift my focus to Katarina.

  As we start up the steps, she looks me over, then redirects her attention to Nicolas.

  “My, she is pretty, isn’t she? And such beautiful eyes. Nicky, you’ve outdone yourself this time. She is an admirable specimen.” Her voice drips with condescension.

  Nicolas bristles. “I’ll remind you this is my home. You are to be civil as well. Agreed?”

  “Yes, yes, Nicky, you are right.” Looking at me, she haughtily adds, “Forgive me, my dear. I tend to forget my place, as Nicky has been forever reminding me. Oh, but wait, I have no place as far as he is concerned. He made sure of that long ago.”

  She directs a dark glare back at Nicolas, her lip curled.

  He clenches his jaw and a faint growl rumbles deep in his chest.

  We haven’t even made it up the stairway and these two seem ready to tear each other apart. This is going to be interesting.

  Nicolas stops when we reach Katarina, then he guides me behind him and to the next step above them, keeping me close.

  He takes a breath and stares disdainfully at the red-haired Chosen. “Miss Martin, may I present Katarina Habsburg, of the Austrian Habsburgs.”

  That’s a name from the history books. Remembering my protocol lessons from Éva, I only nod in response.

  Katarina tenses as she scowls back at Nicolas. “I believe you have it backward, Nicolao.”

  “No. I have it exactly right.” He squeezes my hand.

  Éva had explained to me the lower ranking Chosen is always presented to the higher ranking in formal situations. It’s obvious Katarina believes she holds the higher station.

  Her copper eyes narrow as she looks at Nicolas, then at me.

  “I see. I have heard rumors that you had named a . . . ‘queen.’ But I imagined someone more regal. She just does not seem your type, Nicky.” Her lip curls to one side and she looks at me as though I’m something she’d have to wipe off her shoe.

  That does it. I’ve had enough of her crap.

  “She,” I snarl as Nicolas braces, “is standing right here. I have done nothing to you, yet you have been insulting me since we arrived. You need to stop.” I stare at her through a deep red haze. Katarina studies me, pursing her lips. To my surprise, she bows her head.

  “Well, perhaps I have . . . underestimated you. Please forgive my rudeness.” Her voice is careful and I nod in response.

  Turning to Nicolas, she declares, “Now, Nicky, I am absolutely dying for some of your renowned bloodwine. I’ve traveled half a world so I can enjoy a glass with you.” She smiles sweetly, yet the look in her eyes is anything but.

  Nicolas gestures for her to proceed back up the steps. We follow her through the still-open door and into the foyer, Nicolas tightly gripping my hand.

  Marie is nowhere in sight.

  And the strange scent of another foreign Chosen lingers heavily in the air.

  Katarina stops. Nicolas strides past her and to the library door, opens it, and steps back to allow her to enter first.

  She nods as she passes us, and we follow her into the room. The fireplace is lit, but appears to have been burning only a short time.

  “I took the liberty of having your servant light a fire in here. The room is so much more pleasant with a flame, don’t you think?” She smiles.

  It could be my imagination, but it seems everything she says and does is a veiled threat.

  “Which servant?” Nicolas asks quietly.

  “Why, the young blond,” she replies, watching Nicolas.

  He goes very still.

  “I believe he said his name was Johan, or something like that.” She pauses and tips her head. “Do you have others? I did smell the rather heavy scents of several humans. It would be so like you to have humans for servants. You seem to be so fond of them.” Her voice contains a strong note of derision.

  Nicolas softens, and I realize he was concerned it had been Marie. I have a feeling that would have been very bad for Marie.

  “Now where is that bloodwine? I’ve been waiting for some time now, Nicky, and have developed quite a thirst.” Her imperious demand grates on my nerves.

  Nicolas clenches his jaw, watching as she strolls to the window. He walks me to the library door and says, “Will you please go to the kitchen and ask Johan to bring us a carafe and some glasses?”

  But he does not let go of my hand.

  Opening the door, he stops and looks at Katarina and asks, “Do we need more than three glasses? Did anyone accompany you, or are you alone?”

  I’m sure Nicolas had smelled the presence of the other Chosen the moment we stepped into the house. But apparently we are now deep in the Game.

  “Why, Nicky, you know I never travel without a companion. He is with your servant, I imagine.” She smiles. “I’m sure he would enjoy a glass of your bloodwine as well.”

  “I see. Then perhaps we should have my special reserve.” Turning to me, he says, “I will go down to the wine cellar if you will speak with Johan.”

  I nod and we both leave the room.

  Nicolas closes the door and takes a deep breath. We walk toward the back of the house, and he opens a door off the hallway, just outside the kitchen. A staircase leads downward into the cold air of the wine cellar. We step onto the landing, and he closes the cellar door, locks it, and leads me downstairs.

  At the bottom of the steps, he finally releases my hand that he has been clutching since I got out of the car.

  “I would kill her where she stands if it would not create a war.” His anger boils to the surface, and I see a more dea
dly Nicolas than I’ve ever seen before.

  “And I do not know yet who she brought. His scent is unfamiliar to me.” He paces the cellar floor. The tension emanates from him in huge waves as he continues.

  “I can only hope Johan had enough time to send Marie and Alfonso away.” He glances at me with concern. “I think this would be our best opportunity for you to leave and go to the mountain. I already explained you had business to take care of, and that will have to suffice.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone with them. No way.” I frown and steel myself for the ensuing argument.

  “Éva is on her way from New York. It is she who alerted me that Katarina had flown into the country. Lorenzo, Robert, and Alina are flying in as well. They will be here shortly.”

  “What’s ‘shortly’? A few hours? No, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”

  His jaw tightens. “I need you to leave. I need you to be safe, and you will not be while you are here. Please, for me, go home.”

  “No. I will not. I’m staying . . . unless, of course, you want to leave with me.”

  He swears, walks over to the wine racks, and picks out a bottle.

  “Nicolas, I don’t understand. What can she do? I thought you were, well, like an Old One.”

  “Yes, but I am not the only one. There is another in Europe, and we have long been rivals. It was to him that Katarina turned when I . . . rejected her . . . centuries ago. They are bonded.” Nicolas uncharacteristically runs his hand through his hair.

  “Just so you understand the depth of her animosity, I courted her when she was human. I thought with her family’s power and wealth she would make an excellent mate. But she proved to be deceitful and overly ambitious, and I grew intolerant of her treachery. When I refused to Change her, she offered herself to my enemy.” He takes a deep breath.

  “She has never forgiven the insult. Every century or so she feels the need to remind me of what she thinks I lost when I declined to make her my consort.” He looks at me, dread filling his eyes.