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

by JL Madore

  He blinked fast and fought not to play the part of the pansy-ass weeper in this stage performance. Thank you, Lady Divinity, with all my heart and soul. With everything I am, have ever been, and ever will be, I am blessed to serve you.

  Cassi looked out over several hundred soldiers, hunters, and citizens and drew a deep breath. “Stryker always said that every storm eventually runs out of rain.”

  She smiled down at Dougal, Sabine, Edmund, and two little blonde mini-me copies of their mother, who stood front and center. “Here in Hell, that is particularly comforting when the endless days of acid drips from the sky and traps us within a decaying castle. Some days, it feels more like a tomb than a home and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

  “Get to the point,” Thrash said, rolling her eyes.

  Cassi looked like she might respond but thought better of it and continued her address. “Father was a strong and passionate male who fought for what he believed the Shedim needed. He used cunning and brutality to exact results and blood was shed because of it. He loved you as much as he loved this place and his position as your Master—I don’t.”

  The crowd shuffled, looking confused. “I love you all more than anything. More than this castle. More than our reputation as cruel, powerful Darkworlders. More than the way of life we’ve always lived. And to that end, I want more for us.”

  She held her hand out to him and Kyrian took it, moving to her side. “A crazy thing happened while Kyrian of Thebes was held as our prisoner. I learned that the Watchers of the Gray are far more than the nightmare tales we’ve been told since time began, just as Kyrian learned that Shedim are much more than a dominant demon species bent on killing humans and taking over the realm.”

  “Says you,” Thrash said. “Sounds good to me.”

  Cassi nodded. “I suppose it does to you, and to many of you assembled. But I want a different future. I’ve lived this life and I’m tired of fighting every moment. Instead of joining the rebellion and targeting Nephilim garrisons around the world, I brokered another alternative. For those who stand behind Stryker’s way, I introduce his other daughter, Emma—”

  “Thrash,” she snapped.

  “Stryker’s other daughter, Thrash,” Cassi corrected. “As daughter of a Shedim Master and the Dimme Queen, she holds considerable strength in the Darkworld. If you wish to stay here at the castle, join the rebellion, and fight the way Shedim always have, I leave her as your Master. If, however, you wish to trust in a new life in the Human Realm, I shall serve as your Mistress e’ermore, providing you with peace and opportunities never before available to the citizenry of our species.”

  “What?” someone yelled from the back. “And live out our days hiding who we are to fit into a world that loathes us?”

  “Humans are mindless cattle,” someone else said. “They wouldn’t know demons were among them, even if they had one chewing on their neck.”

  Cassi offered them a patient smile. “The decision is yours to make and know that I love you all, no matter your decision.”

  Kyrian read the faces of the crowd and his gut tightened. Cassi was looking at fifty percent support at most. Losing the faith of her people would cut her soul deep. His beast pulled at it’s tether, fighting to unfurl his wings and crack some heads. He locked himself down and hoped he was wrong.

  Cassi held the gaping mouth of the scissors against the black silk ribbon. There was a hum to the night here, the city never truly asleep. There were strange smells too: the air, the nearby lake, the humans . . . so many scents to sort through. To her left, Austin and Zander stood her supporters. To her right, Kyrian beamed, proud and protective. She still couldn’t believe how far they’d all come.

  “Over the past two weeks,” she said, to her people, “we’ve been adjusting to many changes. Living in the Human Realm, being free to go outside—day or night—not worrying about ghouls, hounds, or dragons attacking, and for many of you, schooling and working toward acquiring jobs.”

  Dougal and Sabine finished circulating through the crowd of one-hundred and sixty-six Shedim and set down the serving trays on the event refreshment table. Grabbing two flutes of blood-infused wine, they raised their glasses with the others.

  “DonorWatch is an innovation. This business will put food on our table, provide jobs and income to our people, and set a new standard in feeding members of the Darkworld. Thanks to Austin’s awareness of the strict organ transplant criteria, and the volume of unusable and unsuitable organs in each city, each day, we will now dispose of those organs to our benefit.”

  She paused for a moment while the excitement in the crowd died down. “And with our new contacts in rescue services and coroner offices, that supply of food earmarked for disposal increases even further.”

  “We’re proud of you, Mistress,” Sabine said. “We’ll make it work. Count on all of us to help.”

  Cassi couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever been so filled with hope for the future. Her people were safe and soon to be full-bellied and healthy, they had a home and land at the closed hotel Kyrian and his brothers helped her buy, and she had a male who loved her.

  His Nephilim family were beginning to trust her—except for Danel, who would likely never forgive her people for the loss of his hand—but now that Thrash had moved her army into Castle Wandread, the Watchers knew where the cache of red-metaled weapons were. She hoped, anyway.

  Kyrian squeezed her shoulders from behind and Cassi marveled at how his simple touch of support scattered her thoughts. Her entire body warmed to his touch, attuned to his presence, anticipating the next moment when they could be alone. Remembering all the stolen moments they’d shared the past few weeks.

  Kyrian cleared his throat, and she remembered where she was and with whom. If Zander smelled her arousal, he was gentlemanly enough not to let on.

  With her cheeks burning, she got back to business. “We won’t eliminate the need for hunters altogether, but living within the quotas of the Otherworld accords won’t be a problem. Here’s to new connections and a new future.”

  Cassi closed the scissors and sliced through the ribbon. Her Shedim family sampled the treats set out and wandered up the stone steps.

  “Go in and explore,” she said, proud of the entire operation.

  Kyrian had designed the layout, overseen the construction, and had a hand in all the finishes and furnishings. It really felt like they were in this together.

  “What’s that look for?” he said, turning her to face him.

  The nearness of him overpowered her control as it always did, and she hoped, always would. “You know, for the first time in my life, I feel like an equal to the man in my life. I love that . . . and I love you.”

  Kyrian winked. “That’s good news because I’m a lawman, and it wouldn’t look good if I was stalking one of my charges and trying to make her love me. No means no, and all that.”

  Cassi laughed and kissed his stubbled cheek. “Well, your reputation is safe, and you get a standing yes from me any time you want.”

  Kyrian growled and pulled her closer. He pressed his hips against her pelvis and ground his erection against her skirt. “Careful what you offer up, sweetheart. I just might test that statement and you have responsibilities here.”

  She ran her fingers through the ebony feathers just behind his back and sighed. “Give me ten minutes to find Dougal and put him and Sabine in charge.”

  “Yeah, and then what?” The smile he flashed her sucked the air from her lungs.

  “Then, I’m all yours.”

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed, Watcher Redeemed, Book Two in the Watchers of the Gray series. If you’d like to review the story while it’s fresh in your mind, I’d love to read your thoughts. Amazon

  If you’d like to read an excerpt from Watcher Reborn, scroll to the next pages.

  In gratitude,

  JL Madore

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  Other Books

  The Scourge Survivor Series (Fantasy)

  Book 1 – Blaze Ignites

  Book 2 – Ursa Unearthed

  Book 3 – Torrent of Tears

  Book 4 – Blind Spirit

  Book 5 – Fate’s Journey – Summer 2018

  The Watchers of the Gray Series (Paranormal)

  Book 1 – Watcher Untethered (Zander)

  Book 2 – Watcher Redeemed (Kyrian)

  Book 3 – Watcher Reborn (Danel)

  Book 4 – Watcher Divided (Phoenix) – Summer 2018

  In the Shadow (Roman Time-Slip – Episodic Serial)

  Episode 1 – Back In Time

  Episode 2 – A Strange New World

  Episode 3 – Pompeii

  Episode 4 – Vesuvius Erupts

  Episode 5 – Allies, Enemies, and New Beginnings

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Large coffee, double double and an everything bagel, lightly toasted with herb and garlic cream cheese, right?”

  Danel glanced up from the billfold he’d fished from the pocket of his leather trench and forced himself not to roll his eyes. The blonde barista at this place was always way too perky for the hour of the night . . . or morning as the case may be. Annnnd she was staring. What the fuck was she staring at?

  Right, she’d asked him a question. “Yeah, fine.”

  With his order confirmed she sprang into action and he tossed a five on the stainless-steel counter. He’d never understand it. These stupid sheep led such mundane lives yet most of them didn’t seem to notice. Some of them, like barista-Barbie here, actually seemed joyous to wear her sad uniform, make minimum wage, and serve Toronto’s night-crawlers.

  It made Danel’s balls knot. Nothing worse than being bombarded with sunshine when you felt like death. Ignoring the idle chatter-babble she was splattering him with, he accepted the take-out tray she slid toward his good hand and made a break for it.

  “Have a nice night.”

  Yeah, Fan-fucking-tastic. In three long strides he was face to face with the way out. And that’s when his shit-kickers stalled dead. Damn. He couldn’t face his brother’s coming in from patrol tonight. Deciding to put off the awkward nightly ritual, he hung a louie and eyed a booth in the back corner.

  By-passing the rows of empty tables, he passed the only other customer in the place, a homeless guy reading yesterday’s news, and ass-planted in the shadows. With his back to the brick wall, and a good line of sight into both the coffee house and the street outside, he slid his tray onto the table and got down to business.

  Damn it. His coffee cup sat wedged tight and he had to lay his useless stump of an arm on the tray to leverage it free. God, if he wasn’t such a java-whore, he’d never put himself through the humiliation of public display. After liberating his mug, he set the thing on the table and tugged the black bandana over what was left of dominant his dagger hand.

  Sucking back a large swallow of liquid ambrosia he let that thought fester. Yep, this was his retirement gift after three thousand years of battling evil and saving the lives of mindless humans. Screw the gold watch, he’d had his hand lopped off at the wrist and been retired from rotation indefinitely. Fuck-you-very-much.

  He tossed his bagel back onto the paper, his appetite lost.

  If he wasn't a warrior, who in the three realms was he? Just some unlucky asshole who’d given a hundred and ten percent and been left a cripple. The fact that his brother's couldn't even look him square in the eye was a real ball-gnasher.

  The hum of his phone vibrating on his hip broke through his wallowing. He set down his coffee and checked the ID.

  “Cop.”

  “Hey, D, you forgot to say goodbye. I’m hurt.”

  “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

  “What happened? One minute I’m changing the targets for you and the next minute you’re vapor.”

  “Just had enough target practice for one night. That’s all.”

  The long silence on the other end of the phone gave Danel the scratch. He trapped his phone between his ear and his shoulder and took a long haul on his coffee. Didn’t help.

  Colt cursed under his breath and when the guy spoke again, his tone was far too reasonable. “It’ll come, D. You’re hitting the mark every time now. In another few sessions you’ll be just as deadly as a southpaw as you ever were. Give it time.”

  He flexed his blistered fingers, man his hand was still numb from the hours of abuse he’d been putting it through. “With the rebellion gaining ground, the squad can’t afford me to be on the disabled list. Tanek’s dead, Kyrian’s awol most of the time worrying about his Darkworlder female and with Austin’s pregnancy advancing, Zander is only half focused on the streets. With me off rotation, that leaves us down four. The front lines are getting thin, Cop.”

  “I get that, but give yourself a break. You can't expect—”

  “No offence, Colt, but fuck the pep talk.”

  “Danel—”

  “It doesn’t matter how well I can shoot or swing with the hand I’ve got left, Zander will never put me back on rotation. I’m done.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. And I don’t blame the guy. Nobody wants a wingman with a handicap. They’ll say it doesn't matter, but the doubt will be there. And hesitation and doubt in the field gets men killed. Z knows that as well as I do.”

  Heavy exhale on the other end of the phone. “Look, give me another week at the range and we’ll see where we are. I swear you’re almost—”

  “Don’t sweat it. It is what it is. I’m sure Zander can use me for intel or in-house tactical or some shit.”

  “D, come on—”

  “Fuck it, I’m finishing my bagel and coffee and then going home to bed. If I’m still wound when I get there, I’ll light a candle and phone a friend to come work off my stress. That’s all I want to think about for tonight.”

  “Fair enough. But don’t throw in the towel yet, Persian. We’ve still got time.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got nothing but time. I’m staring down an immortal life of nothing but empty, useless nights.”

  While that little ray of merry-fucking-sunshine hung in the air, the neon ‘open’ light in the front window died off and the ‘closed’ began to glow. Perfect. “Look, this place is closing up, so I gotta beat feet. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Good deal. You do that.”

  Danel slipped his phone back onto his pocket and stuffed his garbage into the nearest bin. After grabbing his coffee, he and made his way back to the door.

  He brushed past homeless guy, still lingering on the front stoop, and wondered what back alley the guy would sack out in tonight. Not that he cared, but he was an expert in all things that went bump in the night and alleys could be a dangerous place. Daemons of all sorts roamed in the wee hours: Serpentine demons. Spirits. Shades. Djinn.

  He discretely eyed the guy and gave him a good once over. Underneath the ratty army jacket, knit cap and the baggie-ass pants he seemed to be sporting a pretty strong frame. He could probably take care of himself. Good. One less sheep in the flock to worry about.

  Danel tipped the last of his coffee down his throat and tossed his cup in the garbage outside the coffee shop. After turning up the collar of his leather slicker he patted his pockets and felt the small comfort that an arsenal of weapons could offer. He may not be fighting these days, but habits formed over millennia weren't broken in a few months.

  With a curse, he disengaged from thoughts of his warrior life and decided to just bag the evening and face the music. Slipping around the side of the building he scanned the scene, his gaze bouncing off dumpsters, grime and a dead end alley.

  He began to dematerialize.

  The creak o
f a steel door brought a female smack into the mix. He dropped the transport and inhaled another lungful of stale and dingy. Damn, two seconds later and his barista fan-girl would've gotten an eyeful of him dissolving into nothing but the thin night air. What the hell was he doing?

  He was a wreck. A mangled jumble of derailed locomotive crashing down an embankment kind of wreck.

  While she headed toward the dumpster to toss the Hefty bag she carried, he took his leave. On foot. Head down, shoulders rolled, he pulled a quick 180 and shot off the way he’d come. Hopefully, he’d vacated, before she noticed him lurking in the alley like some kind of criminal or better yet . . . a pervert.

  His Otherworld hearing picked up the soft rhythm of footsteps behind him. He didn’t need to look back to know who it was, he’d heard the rhythm of her gait almost every night for the past year. Great. He quickened his pace and took the next right. Yep, still there, back a ways, but still coming. After taking the next side-street he jogged ahead and ducked into the shadows of an apartment alcove. Why did he care?

  He held his breath and pressed back into the shadows as his human stalker passed him unaware. He held his position and watched her go by. Spikey blonde hair, five-foot-two despite the chunky wedge shoes that were a broken ankle waiting to happen. Nice ass though. And she looked round in all the places a woman should be round.

  He was about to step out and head on home when a second set of footsteps moved past. Army jacket, baggie pants . . . homeless guy was on the move and seemed mighty interested in the woman.

  Danel’s Otherworld Spidey-senses tingled at the back of his neck and he stepped out to follow. He might be benched but he was still a fucking protector of the innocent.