Watcher Redeemed: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 2)

by JL Madore

  She wanted no part of it—of him.

  Liar. She swallowed, a sudden remembrance of the tang of his blood flooding her mouth. Her fangs dropped, aching for a taste of him. He made her stronger and yet desperate. More confident and yet terrified of everything around her. Sated yet hungry. How could she be such a contradiction of emotion?

  And why did it become magnified the closer she got to him? Because she knew what would happen the moment she laid eyes on him. The same thing that had happened each time she’d laid eyes on him, or even thought of him since that stupid bathroom. Her heart would race. Every inch of her flesh would heat and tingle. Her hands and feet would go numb. And her fangs would drop, aching to sink into his vein. Like they were doing now.

  Kyrian of Thebes was a sexually charismatic male who had unexpectedly awakened a primitive carnality in her, but that door was closed. Locked. And barred. What she felt for him was merely naivete, the inexperience of a sheltered female who’d been taken by storm by unfamiliar passions. She would set things right now. For herself, her father, and her people—

  “How long are you going to stand out there, Cassiane?” came an amused voice from the other side of the iron door. “I assure you, I am decent and ready for guests. And that tray of venison you’re holding is getting colder by the moment.”

  She shook herself inwardly. Where Shedim had tricks of the mind, Nephilim had heightened senses. He had likely been aware the moment she arrived, which was—she glanced at her watch—far too long ago to explain away with any simplicity.

  A deep rumble of male amusement met her as she opened the way into the cell. She avoided looking beyond the bars and instead waited while the guard unlocked the metal gate dividing the space. Her blasted complexion made it far too easy for people to read her embarrassment. “Thank you, Garrun. Please step out to the corridor. I shall call if I need you.”

  Remaining outside the prisoner portion of the space, she set the tray down on the small ledge. After steeling herself, she inhaled and met his gaze. The impact of seeing him constricted within her chest, compressing her lungs and heart, as if she were trapped beneath a great weight.

  “I see you fashioned yourself an outfit for your execution. It goes well with your collar.”

  Kyrian’s smile was strained, the muscles in his shoulders rigid. “As an ancient Greek, it is not beyond my talents to fashion a chiton out of a bedsheet in a moment of need. I’d hate to meet my end with my bits on display. Besides, everyone likes a good toga party.”

  She turned while he approached to claim his plate. He lifted the spoon and raised a sculpted brow at the utensil, his smile growing.

  “And now that you are clothed and feeling festive, do you have any final demands?”

  He lowered himself to eat, his movement still slightly stiff and labored. The cot creaked in protest under his warrior’s weight. He had the manners of royalty. Small bites. Chewing silently. Swallowing and wiping his mouth before speaking. “No demands. A simple request.”

  She strolled along the bar wall and let her fingers trace the metal rungs. “And what might a mighty Nephilim assassin ask of a lowly Darkworlder like me?”

  His hands stilled, and the intensity of his gaze held her captive. “Don’t blindly follow Stryker’s lead. You’ve been misled, Cassiane, and are going to get not only yourself, but everyone else here, killed.”

  She laughed. “You pretend to care? The entire time you fought unconsciousness, you threatened to kill me in all manner of ways for hurting your precious human. Not so honorable, Watcher, carrying a intimate fondness for your commander’s wife. And after all the ways you promised to make me pay, do you expect me to believe you worry over what happens to me?”

  He set his plate down and stood to his full height. His gaze seared first her lips and then traveled over her breasts. “Look beyond your hatred. We have each wronged the other. You suffer because I killed your leader. I suffer because you shot me and my dear friend. To fester in those betrayals does neither of us any good.”

  Her teeth clenched as her emotions rose to the foreground and overpowered the anger that had simmered inside her for months. “Stryker was more than my leader.”

  Inch by torturing inch he stalked closer. “As Tanek was more than mine. Stryker chopped him to bits and dumped him in a heap of flesh within our home. We can play the blame game all night but at what cost? He started this. You can end it.”

  Her fingers passed through the bars and pressed against the heat of his chest, curling in the fabric of his toga where it draped over his bare shoulder. “You are my enemy.”

  “And your prisoner.” His arms came through the bars and when she should have stepped back, she let him pull her hips close to his. His fingers laced deep in her hair and tightened at the base of her neck. He dipped his head, his breath warm against the side of her cheek. “It doesn’t feel that way, does it?”

  No, it didn’t. Her lashes fluttered as her incisors dropped. The needle-sharp tips of her fangs hovering just inches from where she wanted to be. If it were not for the bars between them, she doubted she could have held back. Her need for his blood trembled in her fingers while her legs coiled, ready to launch. Kyrian was her prey and she wanted nothing more than to take him to the floor. She’d strike the vein in his neck and straddle his mighty thighs. He would fill her, stretch her to the point of straining.

  “Your arousal is a drug in my skull,” he said, his body swaying as his eyes rolled closed. “It beckons for things neither of us wants—and yet want so desperately.”

  No. Yes. She melted right there in his arms. With thought lost and sensation taking over, she gripped his neck and claimed his mouth. His lips, impossibly hungry, heated and demanding, flowed over hers. He slicked the seam of her mouth and she opened for him. Their tongues did not meet so much as duel for dominance.

  The groan that ripped from his chest buckled her knees. His strong arm at her back held her within his reach. In a flurry of skirts, he had accessed her skin and stroked her thigh. His silken touch shocked her, so gentle, so reverent. His fingertips danced on her flesh, heightening every sight and sound. He cupped her core and she gasped from the relief of his hand upon her.

  “Tell me you want this,” he said, his gaze vibrant. “Say the words or this ends right here. I won’t have you regretting what comes next.”

  What comes next? She knew about intercourse and about the lust that feeding could unleash, but without a mother or girlfriends to tell her anything more, she knew little else. What could he do with them separated by bars? She thought of his command back in that bathroom when she’d wanted to feed from him.

  “Do it,” she said.

  She shuddered as his mouth seized her lips once more and he pressed his fingers inside her. Pleasure exploded at the shock of it. His thumb rubbing over sensitive flesh, his long fingers stroking her. The greed of his touch was a blissful relief after days of aching and avoiding. Pretending. He wasn’t gentle, nor was he rough. He was possessed. Or maybe that was her.

  She gripped the bars and held on, arching back to give him room to maneuver. She wanted his lips on her neck, nipping until the sting threatened to consume her. She wanted his lips on her . . . the need for him to lap at her was overwhelming. “What is . . . this isn’t right. Not natural . . .”

  He pulled her closer and reclaimed her kiss. His tongue caressed the line of her chin as the stubble of his jaw became almost too much to bear. “Don’t fight it, Cassi. It’s real . . . or it could be if you gave us a chance.”

  Us? Her mind swam as her release built. His kiss absorbed her cries of pleasure as his growl unlocked something uncontrollable deep within her. She wanted more of this. More of him. She reached out with her mind and the images exploding in his head had her undone. Her legs spread and flung over his broad shoulders as he devoured her. Her on her knees and him behind her. The two of them tangled in silk sheets. Sweating on a wooden floor.

  She gave herself over. Her body convulsed with mor
e pleasure than she would have thought possible. She fought not to scream. No. She couldn’t scream. Garrun would rush back in and—

  What was she doing? She blinked up at the dungeon ceiling, the pulse of her release ebbing in his grip. The rapt possession on Kyrian’s face was too much. He desired her, wanted her. She’d seen in his mind that his feelings were genuine . . . unless Nephilim could manipulate their thoughts. What if . . . had he?

  She stiffened and twisted away. Her legs wobbled, and she stumbled to catch herself with a hand on the stone wall.

  “What are you doing to me?” she hissed, slapping her skirts back into place. “Anyone could walk in that door and you seduce me as if we’re the only two people in the three realms. Did you think I’d stay your execution? Is that what this is? A trick, some Nephilim lure, to sway the weak-minded female?”

  Kyrian straightened, breathing hard, his body rigid. He stared at her, his gaze hard and feral. With deliberate slowness, he raised his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked them in. One by one, he licked her essence from his skin.

  “Honestly,” he said, his voice still breathless, “if I could control it, I would. My skin itches, there’s a deafening hum in my head, and my cock has been rock hard for a week. I want inside you like I’ve never wanted any female, like air for my lungs and blood for my veins. It happened this way for Zander too, when he met his mate, Austin. They couldn’t stop it.”

  She glared at him. “Nothing is happening. You are my prisoner. I hate you. You killed my . . .” Her head spun and she had to steady herself. The distance between them helped. The tenting of the front of his tunic did not. She turned to leave. “Your execution will stop all of this.”

  Kyrian gripped the bars like he might pull them from the floor. “And when you think about killing me, really imagine it, how do you feel?”

  She swallowed and glared at the opposite wall. “Vindicated. Things will be put right once your head is severed, and my people have their justice.”

  The sadness in his eyes had to be feigned, for the mighty warrior appeared utterly forlorn. “You can pretend we’re not dying for each other, but that’s the biggest lie between us so far. You want to kill me? Give it a try. I dare you.”

  He turned and gave her his back, the break of their connection a loss. She gathered her skirts and knocked on the door for Garrun to open her way out. “You dare me to collect on a debt owed? Thy will be done, Watcher. Thy will be done.”

  Zander’s mental rerun of the evening’s crumble into dust was on a never-ending loop when the twins strode up the hall. Phoenix carried a vase of wildflowers with an ivory satin bow bigger than his head. Trust the lover boy twins to come to a situation armed with just the right weapon. Not that she’d ever believe he’d thought of it.

  “Danel filled us in,” Seth said. “She hasn’t come out yet?”

  He growled, wishing he had someone to kill. He needed to come up with a plan. He couldn’t think. “The smell of her tears is making me insane.”

  Seth scrubbed a hand over his dark, military-cut hair. “It’s thick through the whole loft, Z. You gotta get in there.”

  Phoenix nodded and offered up the flowers.

  “There’s not a damn thing I can do to stop her grief. I can’t fix anything.”

  Seth shook his head, a know-it-all look on his smug puss.

  “You got something to say, spew it, otherwise keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m going to clock you one.”

  Seth shrugged. “Sitting here feeling powerless ain’t your style, my brother.”

  “She told me to keep my distance.”

  “Right, and you follow directions so well.”

  “Piss off. I’m completely out of my depths here. The way Austin looked at me when Rain had her hand down my pants, I doubt she’ll ever speak to me again.”

  Phoenix set the flowers on the hall table outside his office and raised his hands. Do you want us to try?

  He shook his head. “She wants space.”

  Bullshit. She needs you, Z. Get off your numb ass and go make things right with our girl. My guess is this has a hell of a lot more to do with the baby and her worrying about Kyrian than it does about Rain. You need to come clean with her.

  Zander stared at the stupid patterns on the wall. He’d memorized every fucking swirl of color and grown to hate it. That shit was coming down first chance he got. Fresh start. Shit, Phoenix was right. He needed to talk to Austin, feel her against his skin. Since when did he kowtow in the face of a difficult sitch? He needed to man up and get right in the head. “All right, boys, one favor.”

  “Anything. What?”

  “Help me up. I’ve been down here so long, I can’t feel my fucking legs.” Seth and Phoenix clasped Zander’s outstretched hands and heave-hoed him onto his feet. Shoving the vase of flowers into his hand, they patted him on the back and pushed him toward the door. Zander glanced over his shoulder. “If it sounds like I’m losing the war, I expect you to come in and lay down ground cover.”

  “No soldier gets left behind,” Phoenix signed.

  Zander set the flowers on her bedside table, strode to the washroom and opened the door. A wall of steam hit him, encasing him in her pain. It was so much more intense in here. He’d been choking on it from the hall. Now it churned in his gut and made him sick.

  When he opened the shower door, his heart shattered into pieces. Austin was naked, shivering in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. With her face buried in her lap, her hair hung, dripping onto the tiles below. She was crying. Bawling. Sobbing so hard, her whole body trembled.

  He punched the keypad and cut the water. Scooping her into his arms, he pulled her tight to his chest. “Shh, my love, please don’t cry. Whatever you need, it’s yours. I’ll fix this, I swear.”

  Lifting her against his chest, he used his free hand to snag a towel and spread it on the vanity. He folded the ends over her lap and shook out another length of fluffy and black to wrap around her. He took his time toweling her off, rubbing his hands in a slow massage, starting from her shoulders and working his way down. He dried her body, bit by precious bit, then toweled the length of her hair. Even though she wouldn’t look at him, he was gratified when her tremors eased, and the chattering of her teeth quieted.

  “Z-Z-Zander?”

  “Yes darlin’.”

  “I’m still mad at y-you.”

  He pressed his lips against her forehead and closed his eyes. Her skin was so soft. He sighed deep and long. “I know. I only want the chance to hold you and make it right.”

  When she didn’t argue, Zander carried Austin to the bed. He pulled back the duvet and nestled her in. After tossing the damp towels toward the bathroom door, he stripped off his wet clothes.

  “Zander.”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Y-you really thought that woman was me?”

  “I swear it on our love.”

  “Who is sh-sh-she?”

  “Rain is a member of the Seraph. I already sent her packing and requested someone else to take her place, someone who has never tended to me in any capacity. It was a horrible misunderstanding, that’s all. I told you about the Seraph tending to our needs, remember? They collect us as youth, care for us, train us, and heal our wounds.”

  “And fondle you in the k-kitchen?”

  Zander pulled her over his chest, laying her damp hair on the duvet. Her skin was ice. He tucked the blankets around them both and snuggled her in. “They sense when turmoil threatens our control of our inner beasts, and come to ease our souls.”

  “What she was easing had very little to do with your soul.”

  Zander pulled back to look at Austin’s expression and was relieved that she was teasing. “Yes, well, I made it clear that I no longer require physical comforts when upset. I have more than I deserve right here with you and want nothing more.”

  She laid her cheek on his broad chest and absently played with his nipple. “And yet, there’s a baby now.”
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br />   “Fuck, cowgirl, I’m sorry. I’ve handled everything wrong from the get-go. All I want is to protect you, to keep you from hurting. Instead, I make things worse. Everything is so twisted inside me right now, I honestly don’t know how to fix it.”

  He fingered through her long chestnut hair. Even damp it was silky and soft. He rolled to his side and tilted his hips away from her. He couldn’t get distracted by running hard when they needed to have a serious discussion.

  “You have to stop managing me and let me be part of the problems. We’re supposed to be partners. You need to trust that I can hold up my end of this relationship. You’ve been distant and holding back, and I hate it.”

  He knew she was right and sent up a quick prayer to Lady Divinity. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you . . . about Kyrian.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Devious woke, his hand on his cock and the scent of sex and blood in the air. The room was dark, but his night vision allowed him full sight. He and Thrash had fucked right off the bed and across the floor, dragging sheets, lamp, leather ties and who knows what else along for the ride.

  Stryker’s illegitimate daughter Thrash— part Shedim, part Dimme—was as wild a female as he’d ever come across. And the fact that she’d killed a toddler and shown him how to suck its tender marrow to feed, just cranked his attraction through the roof. Nothing weak about this female. Nothing sensitive or sentimental. She was all business and how sexy was that.

  He groaned as her hand covered his and she gave a yank. His cock was well-used and a bit raw, but as she made her demands known, his arousal answered the call. Another tug and he arched his back with a curse. Another couple pulls, and she rolled across his chest, straddled his hips, and mounted him. As she sat hard, he felt the delicious burn of hours of friction.

  He was in awe. Couldn’t breathe. Cock on fire, every nuance of her muscles sliding up and down his shaft burned hotter. There was nothing like the tight compression and heat of her core. And that was before her inner grip took hold during her orgasms. The myth of a female Shedim Royal having a webbed-mesh lining her insides was something he’d always wondered about. He hadn’t given it much credence, but figured, if it were true, it would be the only thing that would make nailing that sniveling Cassiane worth it.