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

by JL Madore

  He laughed and accepted the reins. “Got it. Thanks.”

  Austin stroked the muscled neck of her horse and gathered the reins with ease. The tack glowed with the Otherworld paint used to mark sigils and wardings. Smart. Austin could see the saddle, reins, bridle . . . the whole shebang. “Now then,” she said, adjusting the stirrup, “how about we go for a ride?”

  “Milady,” Xxan said, a whole lotta over-my-dead-body crossing the guardian’s chiseled face. “You are with child, and riding a horse—”

  “Is perfectly safe,” she said, flipping the reins to her horse over his head and gripping the horn of the saddle. “I was riding horses before I could walk. We’ll stay in the arena. No jumps. No races. And if something goes wrong, I’ll ditch and be cushioned by this high-quality, very expensive footing Kyrian doesn’t know he paid for.”

  She mounted in a graceful swing of her leg and sat tall in her saddle. “C’mon now, Greek, time’s a wastin’. When life chucks lemons at you, you might get bruised, but you can still make lemonade.”

  He swung himself atop the massive steed. The leather of the saddle creaked under his weight and the horse adjusted his footing. “You want to hear something crazy? I rode a gray Andalusian as a general during the Peloponnesian War. Was on him the day I met Zander on the battlefield. I loved that horse.”

  Austin smiled a knowing smile and heeled her Painted into a walk.

  God, he loved her.

  “Answer the fucking question, Seth. Where is everyone?” Zander stared down first Seth and then his twin. The two of them stood in the middle of his living room in their weapons vests and red leather trenches, adopting identical poses of run-while-you-can. Luckily, they seemed to know better than to take one step toward the door.

  “I ordered Kyrian to remain in the loft, I told Xxan that Austin was to go nowhere, and Ringo is so grounded he’ll be lucky to see the night sky before his transition hits. So, imagine my surprise when I returned home to find my loft completely fucking empty.”

  Seth’s baby blues skittered around the living room, bouncing off Hark and Bo behind the pool table, Brennus at the bar, and then his brother standing right beside him. He’d called them in the moment he realized his wife was AWOL again, knowing one of them would know where she went. “You always know what’s going on, Egyptian, so answer the question, or so help me, I’ll beat it out of you.”

  “Okay, but don’t freak.” The guy had the good sense to look scared. “Austin had a surprise road trip planned for Kyrian tonight, to welcome him home. My guess is . . . she didn’t want to change her plans.”

  Zander pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what an aneurysm felt like as it was ramping up to blow out a chunk of your brain. He was lit up like the Vegas strip, his Mark glowing neon blue, and he could feel the singeing of his alter ego behind his eyes. “A road trip where? Where is my wife?”

  “I’m guessing, on her way home from the racetrack?”

  “You’re guessing?” Zander pointed a finger at Brennus and the Celt filled a glass with Jaeger. He snatched it up, tipped it back, and checked his watch. Five in the morning. Dark Ones would be flooding home for the night, which could be good or bad, depending on where Austin was, and who they ran into.

  “Why the racetrack? Is she sick? Is there something I don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “To ride the horses she bought.”

  “Horses? What horses?” Zander swallowed to keep the burn of bile contained in his throat. Austin hadn’t ridden since the rodeo accident left her blind as a teenager. “What made her think that tonight was a good time to get back on a horse?”

  “She had Phoenix and I take Otherworld paint over. We ran a line around the outside of the horse ring, doors, and all the tack, so she could work the space. She said something about accepting what life dealt you, and cheering up the Greek.”

  Zander slid the empty tumbler back to Brennus and the Celt took his cue. “And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

  “She asked us not to.”

  “Who ranks higher when orders are given, my wife or me?”

  Seth never glanced at his twin, but Zander knew they were talking telepathically. “Uh . . . you, I suppose.”

  “You suppose? When did this become a debated issue?”

  Phoenix winced, and his hands started to fly. “The horses arrived, and she was so happy, Z. She really thought it would help Kyrian, and no offense, my brother, but you’re smothering her. She hasn’t been out of this loft for weeks. You gotta loosen the reins on her a little.”

  Well, didn’t that get his beast raging. Who the fuck gave these boys a vote on what went down between him and his wife? As the tension of that thought built, Zander’s phone rang. He checked the ID and exhaled. “Thank fuck. Kyrian, where are you?”

  He hit speaker and held the phone out. “This isn’t Kyrian, Commander, it is Shedim hunter, Stalker, of Castle Wandread. It is Kyrian I need to contact.”

  “How did you get his phone? If you’ve done something to him or my wife, I swear to the gods of the three realms, I’ll eviscerated your entire fucking species.”

  “I have done nothing except collect the Watcher’s phone from his effects left behind from when he was here.”

  “And your reason for contacting him?”

  “I mean no offense, Commander, but that is personal. Please. It is imperative that I speak with him. I wish him no harm. He would know me by my given name, Dougal.”

  “Dougal?” Kyrian jogged into the living room, red-cheeked and smelling like horse. Stetson joined the pace, the whole missing troupe filing in behind. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s the Mistress,” the voice on the phone said. “You need to come.”

  Kyrian’s jaw clenched. “What’s happened?”

  “I cannot say for certain, but she is gravely ill. She calls for you. To make amends, I expect, before her end.”

  The color abruptly drained from his brother’s face. “Where is she?”

  “In the private chambers of the Royal House. It would be best if no one here knew you were inside the castle. Could you materialize to the roof of the east wing?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Whoa, hold up.” Zander hung up the call and grabbed his bestie by the arm. Everything was happening way too fast. “You can’t return to a hostile camp where they tortured and beat you. It’s a trap. Think about it.”

  “I am. It’s a clear go.” Kyrian twisted his arm to throw him off but Zander countered. He pinned him to the wall, his brother’s New Rocks dangling over the polish of the hardwood. The growl that permeated the room rattled the picture frames on the walls and the glasses lined up behind the bar. Kyrian’s eyes narrowed with inhuman aggression. “Let. Me. Go.”

  The Greek glared down at him, like he was fully prepared to rip his arms from their sockets if that’s what it took to get back to his female. Except she wasn’t his female. “I haven’t decided how to handle your situation. Let’s take another look at it.”

  “What situation, Greek?” Seth asked, the others closing in on. “Why would the Shedim bitch dying matter? It’s win-win. She’s dead and we aren’t responsible. Though it’s a shame. She’s got that sexy librarian thing going on.”

  Zander cursed as Kyrian’s nostrils flared. The Greek launched, pinning Seth to the drywall. As his massive Doc Martens dangled over the hardwood, Seth blinked down at him confused. “What did I say?”

  “The lad’s not wrong, Greek,” Brennus added. “Her people are scum. One less Shedim is a good thing.”

  Zander raised his hands before they triggered Kyrian’s full claim on the bitch. “Enough chit-chat. How ’bout you boys clear out and leave Kyrian and I to hash this out.”

  Kyrian threw Seth to the floor and the hulking warrior slid ten feet. “There’s nothing to discuss. I’m outtie.”

  “Not unless I say so, you’re not.”

  Kyrian’s mark burst into neon green radiance a split-second bef
ore Zander landed on his back. His jaw exploded with a crack, his mouth filling with blood. Kyrian always did have a solid uppercut. Zander kipped back to his feet and advanced, wings flared, his beast raging to the foreground. “So that’s how it is, is it?”

  Kyrian’s hands fisted, his weight shifting forward on his feet, ready to lunge. His eyes glowed white, his mark lighting up the room like a super nova. “Out of my way, Sumerian.”

  Zander’s consciousness retreated as his beast took over. His whole body surged, his muscles and bones flexing with dark power. He was all instinct. Fury. Betrayal.

  “I am your brother and commander,” he said, his voice no longer his own. “She is our enemy, a random fuck gone wrong.”

  Hark and Brennus grabbed Kyrian as Phoenix and Seth blocked him from launching.

  “Let him come,” Zander said, breathing in the scent of his wife on the man’s clothes. “Let us settle this, Greek.”

  A shrill whistle cut through the red haze of rage. Austin grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her. His heart tripped. So beautiful. She was so heartachingly stunning, especially when she was angry. The others didn’t even deserve to set their eyes upon her. “Mine.”

  “That’s right, big guy,” she said, her accent thick. She bit her bottom lip and flashed him a look far too intimate for the crowd they were in. “Come on back to me.”

  He glared at his men staring at them. He growled and bared his teeth. They had no right to look upon his Ishah with such adoration. She was his.

  “Forget them,” Austin said, backing away. She undid the top snap of her shirt and moved to the next one down. “I snuck out without your permission tonight. What do you want do about that? Punish me?”

  He did. Every step she took, he followed, drawn to her—tethered to her. She turned toward their chamber, the globes of her ass swaying in tight blue jeans, her hair long and dark against her back. “I smell like a barn, angelman. Let’s get naked and wash off our night. You can teach me what obedience means in your world. Would you like that?”

  He smelled her arousal blooming. A siren’s call. He growled, his shitkickers picking up speed as he tracked her down the hall. “I will bed you until neither of us can walk, until you beg for mercy. There will be no mercy.”

  She giggled and walked faster.

  The chase ignited a fire inside him. A predator on the hunt. The best part—his prey wanted to be caught.

  Kyrian was nearly vibrating out of his skin as he followed Dougal and stormed through the living area of Cassi’s private suite. It had taken longer than he expected to get there. The Nephilim’s ability to dematerialize was blocked by extreme emotion or pain. He’d been so keyed up after his fight with Zander it had taken almost ten minutes before he calmed enough to travel.

  “Through here,” Dougal said, the first words the male had spoken since meeting him on the roof. “My wife, Sabine, found her. We are the only ones who know she fades.”

  A petite blonde met them in the hall and let out a gasp. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him and the scent of her fear burned in his lungs. He recognized the scent. “You tended to me in the dungeon with your husband.” She nodded. “I thank you for your kindness.”

  Sabine curtsied and almost spilled the basin she carried. Blood. The tang of metal filled the air, the taste of copper settling on the back of his tongue. It was in the basin, on the rags the woman carried, down the front of her dress.

  His mark burst into an inspired second round of neon pub sign. “Where is she?” he asked, unwilling to explain.

  “In her bed,” she whispered, doubling back the way she’d come. She toed the frame of one of the closed doors and stepped into a small laundry/utility room. After unburdening herself she brushed herself off with a clean towel and closed the mess in behind her. “Stay here. I shall prepare her for you.”

  “Prepare her how?”

  Sabine looked up at him, her warm gold eyes ringed with dark circles. “Make her more presentable for a guest.”

  He fought not to growl. He wasn’t Cassi’s guest, he was her mate . . . or he could have been, if life wasn’t so fucking twisted.

  When he made no move to be left behind, she frowned. “Prepare yourself, Watcher. Learning how she offended you and yours—it devastated her. At first, we thought regret the reason she could not stomach any nourishment, but it must be something more.”

  “Like what, a flu? A virus?”

  Sabine shook her head and captured a loose piece of hair that had escaped her clip. “No. Far more serious. She is wasting at a rate I have never seen before and we are very familiar with starvation.”

  Dougal opened the door a crack and Kyrian’s breath left him in a rush. He’d seen her just weeks ago in Purgatory. She’d been strong and vital. Now, his beautiful Mistress had withered like a shrunken flower. Wearing a simple, silk shift, her frail frame was lost in the massive bed.

  Kyrian’s chest tightened with sickening dread. “You’ve tried fresh kills, warm blood . . .” As the two of them nodded, his mind grabbed frantically for ideas. He didn’t know a lot of the details of their feeding requirements. Honestly, he’d never wanted to know.

  Shards of regret sliced through him and his vision wavered. The renaissance splendor of paneled walls, scarlet rugs and crystal sconces undulated around him. Nephilim blood was poisonous to some Darkworlders. Had he done this to her? Had feeding from him altered her somehow, to waste away?

  Dougal inclined his head toward the bed. “She’s been calling for you. If making amends is all we can help her do before her end, I beg you to allow her peace for her travels.”

  Kyrian turned his back to them. He had to swallow past the lump in his throat to regain control of his voice. “Leave us.”

  Cassiane stirred from the depths of slumber. She’d been floating deep in a thick sea of chill, surfacing only long enough to take a gulp of air before sinking back into the black mire of semi-consciousness. The voices surrounding her no longer registered, the touch of her trusted friends no longer warmed her skin. She was exhausted. The past day had been nothing but struggle, the week before that, a constant fight—the ache that burned inside her, ate away at her very soul.

  She welcomed darkness to claim her. As she lay there, listening to the lazy beat of her slowing heart, she shivered. Soon. The Dark Prince would claim her. She breathed deep and the strong, earthy scent of her male crept into her sinuses. He smelled of the cologne he’d worn that first night at the bar . . . he also smelled pungently of horse.

  She chuckled at the dream but wouldn’t fight the illusion. At that moment, she would take him any way she could. She ached for him, his touch, his company, his blood—oh, Sweet Prince, his blood.

  Her teeth extended, her appetite raging forward.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. Wake up. You have to eat something.” Hmmm, he had the most delicious, silky baritone. The hint of European accent sent a shiver down her spine. If only it was real. This was a cruel dream.

  Her body shifted, and warmth cocooned her. She nuzzled closer, her eyes closed. Whatever was happening she wanted to believe in the dream a little while longer.

  “Cassi, sweetheart, wake up. You must feed.” He held a goblet of blood wine to her lips and she gagged at the smell. She cracked her eyes open and lost herself in the pale green of gemstones and earth’s moss. Ahh, he was beautiful. Just as she remembered.

  “I’m dreaming,” she whispered. Her lips touched the warm flesh of his neck. Her blood, thick and congealed, started to flow again. Her stomach twisted. She dragged her tongue up the warm, salty column of his neck and felt the throbbing pulse of his life’s blood ebbing just beneath her lips. “Let me dream a little longer.”

  She lifted her hand, but it fell useless against the bed.

  Kyrian pressed her hand over the flat plain of his bare chest. His skin was warm, his heart pulsing against her palm. His sculpted muscles tensed and flexed beneath her fingers. “Cass, sit up. Nourish yourself.”


  Another lungful of his scent and she felt the haze of unconsciousness creeping up on her again. She fought. “I just want to touch you until I go back to sleep.”

  “No, don’t sleep. Stay with me.” There was so much sadness in his voice, but she just didn’t have the energy to stay awake.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Seth back-flatted against a city utility shed, the burn of heaven’s grace pulsing through his veins. The only boon to being the bastard offspring of an archangel was the elixir which ignited in their bloodstreams when they embraced their duty. The stuff boosted their adrenaline, heightened their senses, and he didn’t know about his Nephilim brothers, but gave him a fighter’s hard-on that would last all night.

  Bits of concrete exploded off the corner of the piece-of-shit storage building. As cover went, he wasn’t in great shape. He shucked off his slicker and pulled up his shirt. The hole in his side oozed blood down his hip like a mofo. “Celt, is it an innie or an outtie?” He twisted around so Brennus could see his back from behind a massive tree, twenty feet away.

  Two shots rang out in rapid fire as an arrow whizzed by.

  “Yer good, lad,” Brennus said. “Ye got an exit hole just above yer hip.”

  Cool. That was good. Being shot was a bitch, but having one of those red-metaled bullets inside him was nothing he wanted to experience. He’d seen what it did to Kyrian.

  Someone whistled off an all-clear signal, and Phoenix spoke into his mind. The bodies are in the stand of trees opposite the ball-diamond.

  Seth gathered his jacket and sauntered over, taking a survey of the land as he went, just in case their bad guys got a second wind. He joined Hark and his twin at the epicenter of death, while Brennus and Bo made a wide sweep of the area. The smell of scorched flesh singed his nostrils as he bent over the extra crispy cadaver. The dissected corpse was tucked behind a downed tree and covered over by brush.