Watcher Reborn: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watcher of the Gray Book 3)

by JL Madore

  Zander’s Mark burst into a neon blue radiance at the same moment that Kyrian’s burst green.

  Yes, their Lady was definitely with them.

  The blinding light the two of them gave off singed the flesh of their attackers. The skin of their enemies smoked and sizzled when caught in the beam of their Mark. His Mark had never activated in battle before. He didn’t know he could do that.

  Kyrian met his gaze over the bowed body of one of the Royal Guard. Strange. If the battle was planned, he’d expected Gregor and his personal attendants to have bugged out and left his army to fight.

  Another surge of fighters targeted the twins as their party moved toward the back of the building. He rushed to help them, punching and tearing at the enemy, until his lungs burned, and his muscles weighed a thousand tons.

  “What’s with the mass suicide?” Bo asked, his long, golden hair tainted and heavy with black ichor. He turned and gutted the next in line, the attacker’s body falling to the pile covering the blood-slick concrete. “We’re obliterating them, and they don’t care.”

  A female screamed beyond a line of privacy screens and they doubled their efforts. Kyrian’s beast roared and his eyes flipped to an eerie white. Zander had heard the accounts of his dark angel side taking hold, but the boys were right.

  It was truly unnerving.

  Seth twisted a demon’s neck until it snapped. “Jackson is in the house, motherfuckers.”

  Zander’s affinity ignited beneath his skin, tingling with heightened awareness. The boosted current amped the glow of his Mark, building in intensity as it threatened to unleash.

  Kyrian bellowed. His Mark lit the darkness with a solid green glow. “We’re coming, Cass.”

  Zander’s beast raged, hearing the tortured cry of another of its kind. He and his brothers filed, en masse, through the passageway, and past a raised throne area. Their boots hit the concrete, a pounding rhythm, thundering in the confined space.

  Another scream.

  They broke into the sleeping quarters off the back corridor and spread out. The current pulsing though his cells grew painful—his control slipping.

  Kyrian stopped dead. His wings flared up and out.

  Zander shifted to see past him and cursed.

  Gregor and twenty of his Royal Guard blocked their way to Cassiane and Dougal. The two captives teetered on their toes, balancing with a metal collar cuffed around their throats. Tracks of tears stained Cassi’s pale cheeks, her gaze locked on her husband. Hung from chains bound to the structural beam of the warehouse, if they relaxed, they would choke.

  Gregor raised his hands to his sides. His dreadlocks hissed and danced, making him look like a pasty Rastafarian Medusa. “Watcherssss, glad you could join the fun. I jussst told my guestsss the vision I have for the future of the Darkworld.”

  Zander blinked, and he didn’t see Cassi. He saw Austin—stripped to the waist and strung up like a felled animal, her lifeblood draining to the earthen floor.

  He breathed deep and female terror burned his lungs. Past and present merged; his agony and his brother’s, one.

  Gregor dropped his hands and his guards shoved the two. Cassi and Dougal swung by their necks and Zander’s gift burst supernova. Hot energy hemorrhaged from every cell as his brothers raced forward.

  He screamed to the heavens and lightning sheered the warehouse roof. The bolts fractured at his will, striking down each of the guards. The crack of sound boomed in his chest but wasn’t nearly as loud as a natural strike would have been.

  Kyrian struck Gregor with a brutality his beast respected. The Ancient One dropped to the ground, his frail corpse landing among the smoking, singed heap of his men.

  Seth and Phoenix grabbed and lifted Cassi and Dougal as Kyrian severed the chains with a violent swipe of his dagger. A moment later, their gags and collars were removed and the two choked and gasped for oxygen.

  Zander breathed deep, his cells fired with exhausted relief. “Are we all good?”

  Phoenix assessed the group and gave a thumbs up.

  Cassi sobbed against Kyrian’s chest and Zander relaxed a little more. Scared was perfection. Death of a mate was the only unacceptable conclusion.

  “Unfortunately, Watcher,” Dougal wheezed. “Killing his entire army unknowingly played right into Gregor’s plan.”

  Zander frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cassi forced her legs to hold her, refusing to look weak in front of Kyrian and his Watcher brothers. “Dougal’s right. Gregor used you. The Serpentines no longer honor the accords. Gregor sacrificed himself in order to have you kill his army.”

  Zander frowned. “I’m not following. How is that strategic?”

  “When his son Duxel was killed, he brought him back to life for his second phase. Serpentines are the first of two phases in the life-cycle of Leviathans. If they die naturally, that’s the end of it, but if they die a violent death at the hand of their enemy, metamorphosis is possible.”

  Seth and Phoenix ran back the way they’d come.

  Kyrian cursed. “Leviathans? Those aberrations have been extinct since biblical times.”

  Cassi brushed off her hands and hoped she appeared more self-possessed than she felt. “No longer, I’m afraid. Dougal and I saw Duxel ourselves. He lives again.”

  “And how, exactly did you see that? When I left you this morning, we agreed that you would work on the hotel and DonorWatch. Did Gregor come to you?”

  She swallowed, not liking his tone. “Emma sold a large cache of red-metaled weapons to someone and I thought it my duty to suss out who bought them and why.”

  He gripped his hips, his wings ruffling. “And why wouldn’t you let us handle that?”

  “You didn’t answer your phone.”

  “So, you leave a message and wait until I get back to you.”

  “Like a good little wife? I am Mistress of Shedim, Kyrian. A position of rank and respect among the Otherworld.”

  “Gregor didn’t seem impressed by your title. Or did you miss the part where he tried to kill you?”

  A shrill whistle rent the air. Zander dropped his fingers from his mouth and frowned. “Domestic disputes can wait. And no, you’re not really mad at each other, you’re scared—both of you—so play nice.”

  The Egyptian twins jogged back into the room and shook their heads. “They’re gone,” Seth said. “All the bodies of the fallen are gone, except the ones with severed heads.”

  She nodded. “They must be intact for the resurrection.”

  Zander cursed and bowed over Gregor’s body. He gripped the limp hair of the Ancient One and exposed the male’s slender neck. His head severed with one powerful strike of his Crystalline dagger.

  The hollow thunk as it hit the concrete floor seemed an anti-climactic end for such a revered Darkworld leader.

  “Gregor is out for a do-over,” Seth said. “Should we search the place?”

  Zander shook his head. “This was planned and executed. They didn’t use red-metaled weapons and there won’t be any here to find. Let’s get gone.”

  Danel knelt on the riverbed. The cool mud of the bank absorbed the fire of his skin. He worked quickly, his back still welted from his moment of daydream yesterday. As the river raced by, he leaned out and filled his buckets. The rope of the yoke bit his neck raw but there was no time to waste; the soldiers’ horses needed water. He climbed the bank with all his might. If rumors were to be believed, the Royal Road now spanned all the way from Sardis to Susa.

  His weary muscles ached for rest, his throat parched, his belly tight as a fist, hungering for even the measliest of morsels. And though this day stood out as momentous, it held no balm for his burning needs.

  The battlefield before him clamored with the hustle of soldiers sharpening weapons and the sound of horns calling men to order. The advance of the great Greek army rumbled from beneath the weathered soles of his feet. The earth shook in fear, the enemy thousands strong—tens
of thousands, some said. Part of him cowered at the thought of such an amassed force. Another part of him—the foolish child, no doubt, marveled at the strength and power of such invaders.

  He’d heard tales about Philip of Macedon’s grandson, Alexander. Some believed the great commander came to conquer and decimate them, some believed he would be impressed by their accomplishments and wish to join forces.

  The truth of the matter would reveal itself shortly.

  Alexander’s generals were known throughout the civilized world as some of the strongest and smartest of all men—descendants of the gods themselves, they said. Danel didn’t prescribe to that, one way or the other.

  One thing was certain. The day stood a mark of time for him and his people. The priests said, “Good thoughts lead to good words and good deeds.” He believed that.

  He prayed for the best but knew nothing that a worthless slave boy wished for could ever change the outcome of man.

  Life happened to him; always had and always would.

  Danel woke to images of violence, faces he didn’t recognize, and feelings he couldn’t remember experiencing. He blinked up at the fancy ceiling and shivered in a cold sweat.

  Ronnie adjusted the edge of the blanket draped over them and tucked him in tighter. The mattress barely dipped as she jostled and shifted—a fact he wished he had time to remedy.

  Returning to lay at his side, she propped her head on her elbow and checked him out. “Another bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?”

  He scrubbed his palms over his face and through his hair. He’d rather rewind the clock and go back to their make-out session before they’d drifted off. He was about to suggest that when he was swallowed up by the worried blue pools of her eyes. Quid pro quo, right? He’d pried enough into her life.

  “It’s hard to explain.” He pulled her tighter to his side. “It’s like something inside me is consumed by sadness and rage.”

  “Then Kyrian is right. Enjoy the oblivion of living a blank slate while it lasts.”

  If only he could. He didn’t know if he could believe Kyrian, or any of them, really. He didn’t understand any of what he’d been told. Nephilim? Protectors of humankind? The only human he wanted to protect was right there in his arms.

  “It’s weird.” He traced the line of her bulky sweater up her arm and down her side to the curve of her hip. “In my dreams, I’m a boy living in a time and place I couldn’t possibly be in . . . but it feels real. It feels like a memory.”

  “Past life flashback?”

  Crazy as that sounded, he didn’t have a better explanation.

  She cupped his jaw and smiled. “Maybe talk to someone—a counselor or a support group?”

  He stiffened at her touch. “Do I seem like a guy who’d waste time circle-jerking with a bunch of whiny mental cases? I’d slit my throat before I spewed the, ‘Hi, my name’s Danel’ routine. Fuck that.”

  She withdrew her touch. “That’s terribly judgmental and condescending. Support groups help. They’ve helped me.”

  He cursed. “Sorry. I appreciate that you care—I do—I’m just cranky. My brain is a giant tossed salad over here.”

  She nodded. “Speaking of which . . . I’m starving. How about we accept the momentary reprieve from whatever plagues us and go raid the pantry? Then, we should go check out your home address.”

  “One—we’re not supposed to leave here. Two—your father is likely halfway here by now. They’ll come to take you to the airport soon.”

  “All the more reason to check things out. You don’t live far. And I want to help you find your answers.”

  Danel wished he shared an ounce of her endless optimism. “And how do you know where I live? Holding out on me?”

  She laughed. “Austin told me. She called to say that the trouble with Kyrian’s wife was resolved and we got to talking. You were dead to the world, so I took it outside.”

  “I must have been really out.”

  She winked. “All that kissing too much for you?”

  He rolled over her and pressed her into the mattress. “Guess I’ll need more training to improve my endurance.”

  “Yeah, like I believe that.” She gave him a chaste brush of her lips and rolled out from under him. “It’s been ages since I had a quality girl-chat and it turns out, it’s been ages for her too. She’s awesome, by the way.”

  Danel swung his feet to the floor while she visited her personal pharmacy laid out on the dresser. With her duffle bag in one hand, she plowed everything back into the bag and zipped it up. “I have to get back on schedule, so bear with me.”

  He could do that. “Whatever you need.”

  The lascivious look she pegged him with shot right to his cock. Man, he wished they had more time. What an asshat. He’d wasted ten months not noticing how great she was. He spent extra time folding the blanket and set it on the end of her bed before he stood to face her.

  Stolen kisses were one thing. They had no time for anything beyond that, mentally or physically.

  Danel stepped to the door and picked up her bags while she checked that she had everything. She stopped at the threshold, arched up onto her toes, and nipped his bottom lip before heading down the hall.

  He chuckled and licked the assault. This time, the feminine scent of her arousal didn’t make him ill. He kinda liked it. She flounced ahead of him as they made their way to the stairs and he eyed her up and down.

  No, it wasn’t even kinda. He did like it.

  Ronnie was a feisty little sprite. For every hard, chiseled feature and negative thought of his, Veronica Hennington was the opposite. She was dainty and feminine, with an endlessly glass-half-full whirlwind attitude.

  He admired that in her.

  He realized she’d caught him staring at the top of the stairs. Her impish grin faded and her scent amped up. As much as he’d like to lock her down for the night, that wasn’t in the cards for them. For so many reasons.

  “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t you say you were hungry? Let’s see what kind of weirdness you can conjure with a stocked kitchen.”

  The warm smile she flashed him rivaled the sun’s radiance. “Challenge accepted.”

  Kyrian paced their hotel suite as Drina finished examining his mate. He would do it all again himself the moment she left, but the way his beast raged inside him, he didn’t trust himself not to miss something important. Cassi nearly died. He nearly lost the most precious thing the three realms ever gave him.

  His legs gave out and he ass-planted on the top of her mahogany chest. Thankfully, neither of the ladies seemed to clue in that the big, bad Watcher assassin had lost his shit.

  The toss-up remained whether he’d give in to his beast and go on a brutal killing spree or curl into a ball and hyperventilate until summer.

  “Relax, Kyrian.” Drina squeezed his shoulder. She drew him to the door and lowered her voice. “All’s well that ends well on this one, Watcher. She’s fine.”

  He nodded, afraid to put stock in that.

  “Her neck is sore from the ligatures, but I’m sure you can take care of that. Otherwise, it’s just the mental injury she needs to suffer through. And she is suffering.”

  Kyrian’s beast roared inside him and he fought for control.

  “She’s putting on a good show, but her control was taken from her today. Her confidence shaken. It’ll take time before she builds that up again. She needs you and your support, not your beast’s instinct to stomp and stab.”

  Well, she had him pegged.

  Kyrian strode over and collected the good doctor’s bag. By the time he rubber-balled back across the room, he had a bit more clarity. “Thanks, Drina. Lots of TLC. I can handle that.”

  “Okay, where’s my next patient?”

  He opened the door to their suite and pointed down the hall. Edmund stood with his back against their door. The boy looked as bereft as he felt. “Edmund, escort Miss Drina in to examine your father, would you?”

  The boy
nodded and Kyrian brought Drina’s knuckles to his lips. “Thanks again, Doc. If you need me, I’m here. If you don’t, that would be even better. I don’t think I’m much good to anyone right now anyway.”

  When the good doctor made her way down the hotel corridor, he locked the door and pressed his forehead against the wood panel. TLC—not a raging beast. He repeated that mantra in his head all the way to where his beloved lay in their massive, paneled bed. He had no more control over his anger by the time he arrived across the room.

  Then he met her panicked gaze and collapsed on the bed beside her. He blinked back his own tears as his beautiful Cassiane curled up against his chest.

  He fingered through her silky, ginger hair and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Her scent was all wrong; fear and shame tainted her usual feminine spice. He breathed her deep into his lungs and came undone. Tears brimmed and fell despite him.

  “Okay, sweetheart.” He slammed his eyes shut against the burn. “You’re home now and I’ve got you. S’all good.”

  Duxel stood poised at the edge of the cavern pool. One by one, the soldiers of his father’s army emerged from the black waters. They dripped with the malevolence of a creature reborn without a soul. The Watchers may have claimed their quintessence at the time of their slaughter, but for what came next, living as a soulless minion of Hell was so much more delicious.

  “Rise and Reap, men. Tonight, we make our father proud.”

  With the supply of red-metaled weapons and the Serpentine army reborn in second phase, Gregor had given them what they needed to turn this rebellion into a full-on war. Leviathans would exterminate the Watchers. Then, the Human Realm would be fair game for all Darkworld feeding.

  Without repercussion.

  He knew exactly which Nephilim warrior would be first.

  Danel. The arrogant Persian prick who’d cut him down with no cause. That asshole would regret his interference. The moment he came out of hiding, the Leviathans would make sure the Persian got what he deserved.