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

by JL Madore

  Crawling up the bed, he took her arms and raised them over her head. Sliding her hands through one of the leg holes of her underwear, he wrapped and tugged until her wrists were secured to the headboard.

  She scissored her legs, the stretch of her arms elongating her body. The lascivious study he made of her body was wholly erotic as he stared down at her.

  “I wish the view were better for you.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The smile she tried to give him felt forced. “You know what I mean. I’m too skinny, small-chested, have scars from feeding tubes and renal transplants. Not the most attractive—”

  Danel scowled, the growl rumbling out of his chest nothing close to human. “Don’t do that. Not. Ever.”

  He laid down beside her and ran his hands down her bound arms to her prominent rib cage. He brushed his fingers over her scars, her bony hips, the healing gash on her thigh.

  “I was born in 326 B.C., as a street-rat slave in Persia. Before my coming of age into my Nephilim life, I was whipped and beaten, starved and abused by humans in every horrible way you can imagine. Back then, I didn’t look like I do now. I was scrawny, scarred, and afraid of my own shadow. My body reflected the everyday battle I fought, struggling to survive.”

  He bent down and kissed the small, circular scar where her G-tube used to be. His lips were warm and gentle, his affection so genuine. “Your body is a testament of your fight, Ronnie. It details your battles and your unending strength. Everything about your body inspires me. You inspire me.”

  He shifted lower to the curved line that went from the right side of her naval swooping down to her pelvic bone. “If you hadn’t had the transplants, we never would have met. These scars allowed you to find me—to show me how insulated in hate and anger I’d become.”

  He nuzzled and kissed his way over every pockmark, every scar, every part of her body she’d always considered flawed. When he was done, he straddled her hips and rose to kiss her lips. “Don’t ever doubt your beauty, Ronnie. I’m dazzled by you. Struck stupid like never before. I truly never saw any woman before . . . but I see you.”

  He brushed away her tears with his thumb and claimed her lips. The meeting of their mouths was achingly tender. He swept his tongue along the seam of her lips and she granted him access. He’d set up shop inside her heart, he was welcome inside her in every other way too.

  The irony of it hurt. She’d finally broken through his guarded indifference when her life was changing for the worse. She wasn’t a good candidate for another kidney transplant, dialysis was horrid, and with her kidneys failing, her disease would progress to her heart and lungs.

  The end was nigh.

  “Shh . . . baby, what’s wrong?” Danel untied her hands and pulled her into his arms. His warmth enveloped her, his strength so reassuring. “Am I doing this wrong? Am I screwing this up? What do you need? Tell me and I’ll make it better. I swear it.”

  But he couldn’t.

  She kissed him and shook her head. “I’m scared. I don’t want to think about my future.”

  His anxiety dissolved, his expression blanking out with practiced control. “Then don’t think about the future. Stay right here, right now.”

  Danel hated the hopelessness in Ronnie’s expression. She was pale, weak, and emotionally spent. He shouldn’t be hitting the horizontal with her at all . . . but there they were. The times they’d been sexual over the past week had each been about getting off in the moment. Veronica Hennington was addictive. And as good as those heated moments of lust and sweat and release had been, he wanted more this time.

  He wanted to make love to her.

  Never, in more than two thousand years, had he made love to a woman. The need of it burned hot in the twisted pit of his stomach. His body ached with his resolve. He wanted to spill into her, every emotion she’d freed from the cold, dark prison where he’d locked away his soul.

  She was his rebirth.

  And, for whatever time she had left . . . she was his.

  He understood that he couldn’t claim her . . . but he could love her. The Choir owed him that, at the very least. He’d give Ronnie what he could. He’d let her see him to the depths of his battered and bruised heart. And when she passed, he’d mourn her for the rest of his immortal days.

  Starting at the crown of her head, he began worshipping her. He stroked her hair, kissing a sweet trail down her neck, across her collarbone. He spent time paying homage to every scar, every critical point she mentioned, to prove to her how much he cherished her body.

  He suckled on her breasts. She thought they were too small, but they weren’t. He palmed the fleshy mounds, suckling her rigid nipples, first on one side and then the other.

  The soft feminine noises Ronnie made had his balls clenching, crawling up, tight to his body. His need for her had grown to a harried fever but he wouldn’t be rushed.

  He loved her. Right here. Exactly as she was.

  Shifting lower, he splayed his fingers over her abdomen and kissed and nuzzled each point of struggle. A person is more than who they were at birth. They are made and molded by each day that passes. He knew that better than most.

  When he’d paid tribute to her, he crawled up her body. Her legs widened for him and he settled between her thighs. What a gift. He reached to the floor and grabbed his jeans. Rifling through his front pocket, he found the condom he’d carried around since the other night in his apartment.

  “You don’t need that, do you?” Ronnie said, as she reached for his shoulders and pulled him back into place. “If you heal like you say, you don’t carry diseases. Am I right?”

  He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her cheek. “I don’t, but if you got pregnant—”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I had the surgeon take care of that during my last operation. I won’t put a child through this disease and I won’t be around long enough to be sad about it.”

  Danel brushed his fingertips over her cheek and his heart bled for her even more. Her gaze was heavy-lidded with desire and heated with anticipation.

  “Then let nothing come between us ever again.”

  He tossed the packet and sank between her thighs. She was warm and soft as he pressed inside her. Her muscles welcomed him, gripped him, pulsed around him.

  His beast roared at the connection of heated flesh on flesh. It was a Quickening of a different sort, and he fought to bear the pleasure of it as it etched itself into his soul. He craved this. Needed it more than he imagined possible. It may have only been days since he’d been inside her, but it was far too long.

  He moved in a slow, lazy rhythm. His tongue traced the shell of her ear as she wrapped her legs around him and bucked into his thrust. “Danel, please . . . you’re tormenting me.”

  “Good things come to those who wait.” Rolling his hips, he pressed inside her, rubbing the tender bundle of nerves that made her quiver. He was learning her body, learning the sounds that she made when she was close or desperate for more.

  She was desperate now.

  “Make it last,” he said, his voice hoarse. Sweat slicked his skin and their bodies glistened with it. “We’ve got all night.”

  Ronnie cried softly, beneath him. Her neck arched as his lips drifted across her throat. “I won’t last.”

  He slowed his thrusts and chuckled at her whimper of frustration. “I won’t leave you wanting, Ronnie. Trust me.”

  She ran her tongue along his lower lip and the raw lust in her eyes grew. A brilliant depth of emotion swirled in those eyes. Kindness. Acceptance. Passion. Whatever else was going wrong in their lives, there was no doubt that they were seriously twisted up over each other.

  “I do trust you.” Her fingertips caressed his shoulders . . . drew circles on his nape . . . slid down his back.

  With her gaze still hot on his face, he increased the tempo. The feel of his cock sliding through the clenching depths of her sex was too much. It took all his willpower to stave off his
building climax. How would he ever survive loving her?

  How would he survive losing her?

  A growl surged from his chest and he closed his eyes. Fucking her was incredible. Duty be damned. Ronnie was his living, breathing purpose in life. It was his honor to be allowed in her body, to hold her, to love her.

  As the heated, tight muscles of her core began to clench, his own climax took hold. Ronnie cried out below him and Danel moved harder against her. His heavy thrusts pounded on until the fiery heat of release exploded from his tortured balls.

  Ronnie shuddered in hard, deep tremors as desperate waves of his release tore through him. His head pitched back as he spilled deep inside her. Hard pulses rocked him as he marked her as his own, bonded without fully mating, sharing with her everything he had to give.

  Collapsing beside her, he rested his head on the pillow and caught his breath. He was still hard. Planned on doing that again as soon as she had a little afterglow nap.

  Damn, his need for her was insatiable.

  He thought Zander and Kyrian had lost their freaking minds when they went ass over ears for their mates. Yeah, well, payback was a bitch. He understood now. He beast was restless. He couldn’t concentrate. His cock was so damned hard it was painful. She had him completely under siege.

  “Ronnie . . . you truly are my perfect storm.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Zander sat on the balcony of Howton Hennington’s guest room and stared up at the moon. The silver orb had relieved the oppressive heat of the day, but the air still hung heavy. He watched the gentle sway of the massive walnut trees, the breeze lost somewhere between there and where he sat. The house slept peacefully, the staff either gone home or retired to their beds. Phoenix patrolled the grounds, on watch. Seth was sacked out next door. And he . . . missed Austin.

  If he were in Toronto, he’d be bundled up against the cold, finishing his rotation, and hustling back to the club. He’d check in with Jules and Colin and pretend to listen while looking forward to getting upstairs to the warmth of his wife.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he smiled. “You can’t sleep either, cowgirl?”

  “Your daughter is kickin’ up a fuss about something. I think she knows her daddy’s off galivanting in the warmth of the south while we’re here, all alone.”

  He closed his eyes and let the drawl of her Texas twang wash over him. “I’d rather be there—I wish I was. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Mhmm, and I wish that too. How are Danel and Ronnie doing with everything?”

  He sighed and leaned back, staring at the stars dotting the heavens. “They’ve been holed up in her bedroom for hours. I’m worried, love. She’s not well. She got bad news at the specialist today and is looking at a dim outcome.”

  “Doctors are wrong all the time. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Can she get another opinion?”

  He wished that would help, for everyone involved. “She goes back in a few days to rerun the tests. They’ll give her a treatment schedule then. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, darlin’. It’s not going to end well . . . and Danel’s going to hit a wall when it does. Fuck, I feel for the guy. I really do. Losing you was the single most devastating moment of my existence.”

  Even bringing it up gave him the quakes.

  “Has his beast claimed her?”

  “No. I think he’s got enough sense not to let that happen. But the man is all-in . . . ’till death they do part.”

  “That’s tragic.”

  He nodded. “It is that.”

  The two of them sat with the line open for a long while. Zander felt better, just knowing she was on the other end. He listened to her breathing, thankful that she and their child were both healthy and strong.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, angelman,” she said after a long silence. “Have any special plans?”

  Shit damn. That was a thing, wasn’t it? “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, love. I’m sorry I’m not there to celebrate the day with you.”

  She giggled on the other end of the line. “I forgive you for not remembering.”

  Busted. He loved how well she knew him, flaws and all.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s a silly human tradition compared to what Danel and Ronnie are facing.”

  “True, but life is for living. We can’t forget to celebrate our blessings.”

  “You never do, angelman, I was just teasing. But can I ask for something for Valentine’s Day?”

  “Always. If you want for anything, I want to know. It is my honor to fulfill your every need. What is it?”

  “Can you go up and speak on Danel’s behalf. Lady Divinity wants you boys to grow stronger for the battles to come. Maybe she’ll heal Ronnie and fix this whole, sad mess.”

  Of course, his wife’s wish focused on the happiness of others. Austin was always circling the wagons around the lost and the wounded. “I swear it, love. I’ll let the twins know and go right away.”

  “Thank you. And Zander . . . I love you.”

  His heart never failed to swell at those three words. “I love you too, cowgirl. Heart and soul.”

  Danel left Ronnie’s bed well after first light. He ghosted his way back out her window and down one floor into the guest room he’d been given. He wasn’t surprised to find Zander nodded off in the chair in the corner. What did surprise him was that the Sumerian was there at all.

  With his wife entering her last trimester of pregnancy and the Hell Realm rebellion popping up and taking shots at them from every direction, he’d never have pictured the guy for solidarity of brotherhood over all else.

  “I can’t go back yet. I gotta see things through with Ronnie and figure out where I fit in the world if I’m not fighting.”

  Zander gave him a solemn nod and spun the wide, silver ring on his thumb. “Take whatever time you need. Your life and duty will still be there once you sort things out.”

  Huh, the guy actually sounded sincere.

  “You’re staring at me. Why?”

  Danel shrugged, pulled off his t-shirt, and grabbed a freshie from his bag on the dresser. He’d been angry for two thousand years. What had it gotten him?

  He hesitated on the way into the bathroom. “When I couldn’t remember my life, I asked Kyrian why I hated you so much. He said he didn’t know, and he didn’t think you did either. Is that true?”

  Zander rose from the chair, a reserved look of caution on his face. “You hated me from the day we met. Tanek introduced you to the garrison and I became enemy number one. I figured it had something to do with Sumerians versus Persians way back when. Honestly, I stopped trying to figure it out long ago. It became your thing. I accepted it.”

  He accepted it? Danel’s brain chewed on that and choked. All the times he’d thought Zander was over what happened, that he was such a cold bastard he could pretend it hadn’t happened. He wasn’t fronting? He honestly had no clue?

  He sat on the edge of the dresser before his legs gave out on him. The anger and hatred that had festered and spilled into his life had blinded him. Polluted him.

  “Why the club? Why take in victims and the throwaways?”

  His jaw flexed, his gaze guarded. He shook his head, his mane of hair settling over his shoulders. “Because of my own experiences while living on the street.”

  None of them talked about what happened prior to their fifteenth birthday when the Seraph claimed them for their destiny. He’d never given Zander’s early years much thought.

  Did they have something in common? Fuck, what a club to belong to. He wouldn’t have wished the abuse he’d suffered on anyone . . . not even Z.

  “Do you want to let me in on the secret?” Zander asked.

  Did he? Would it serve any purpose?

  Zander rode into Susa a revered army general and scooped a slave kid off the battlefield. He’d placed that boy in the care of temple scholars and arranged for room and board. If Z did that because of what happened in his own life, Danel was probably on
e of dozens . . . or maybe hundreds that he’d given a new life.

  He had no idea that he’d sent him to a different kind of hell.

  Danel fought the sting behind his eyes and swallowed past the lump blocking his throat. He blamed Zander. He’d focused his anger and shame on the one person he could point a finger at. Before he broke down and blubbered like the child he had been, he hightailed it into the bathroom and hit the shower.

  Ronnie sipped peppermint tea and watched the men at the table eat their breakfast. They seemed preoccupied. She knew her father’s mind was buzzing with last-minute details for tonight’s fundraiser ball. It was his last chance at swaying any votes which weren’t locked in. Zander ate with the manners of a royal house and the appetite of a warrior. Phoenix and Seth ate twice that much. And Danel seemed . . . quiet. Different.

  Something within him had shifted. Realigned.

  Did it have anything to do with the night they’d shared? Her broody soldier was an insatiable lover but also amusingly dedicated to her health. He’d looked up how much sleep a human needed and had cut off all play when they were getting down to the wire.

  This morning when she’d woken, he had his phone timer on and insisted she go back to sleep for twenty-three more minutes of rest. She hadn’t, but she’d laid naked with him, eyes closed, and he seemed to accept that. Then, after they’d celebrated a bunch of orgasms between them, she’d gotten up to shower and he’d disappeared in that way of his.

  “You didn’t eat much, kitten,” her father said. “Aren’t you hungry this morning? Are you feeling all right?”

  She set her teacup down and smiled. “I’m fine, Daddy. Just excited about tonight. Make sure you save me a dance.”

  He stabbed his fork into a German fried potato. “About the dance. Maybe you should come home after the speeches. Or maybe you should stay home altogether. After what Alice pulled yesterday, I don’t like the idea of you being out in public. Nothing is worth you getting hurt.”