The Watcher (Crossing Realms Book 2)

by Rebecca E. Neely

  Her eyelids fluttered open. Staring up at him, she sucked in a breath. “Dev.” Slowly, they turned, as one, to stare at the Vitality stone on the desk.

  It glowed.

  A clear, icy, unholy gray.

  It worked.

  She trembled.

  “Are you okay?” he breathed, gripping her fingers in his, chilly despite the heat of the day.

  “You’re alive.” Hiccupping a sob, she threw her arms around his neck, knocked him to the floor, and crushed her mouth to his.

  CHAPTER 23

  Closer. Meda could never be close enough to Dev, never get enough of him.

  The man she loved.

  She didn’t think. Only felt. Straddling him, the heat of his body melded with hers, and she tasted her tears on his lips.

  He’s alive.

  Dev fisted his hands in her hair, tumbling around her shoulders. His skin hot and damp against hers, he owned her with his mighty arms. Moaning, their tongues and teeth clashed, demanded. The need to affirm life and the living, to feast and fill, claimed her. Each had lost. Each could renew the other.

  Holding his face in her hands, Meda thrilled in the rough shadow of his beard against her palms. She drank in his male, musky scent, his heart beating a wild rhythm with her own, terrified by all he’d shown her. And that he’d survived.

  She’d known reliving the memory of his death, given the depth of her ability, would be difficult. Painful. She couldn’t have known it would forever change her. Strip her soul bare.

  In her twenty-three years, she’d yearned to connect, beyond her ability. With Dev, she could hide from the world, find herself, find comfort. With this Watcher. All her life, she’d waited for him.

  They clawed at each other’s denim, buttons, T-shirts, each mad to rid the other of the barriers separating them. Fabric tore. His and hers. Darkly thrilled, she cast aside the wasted remains of his shirt and maneuvered so he could relieve her of her shorts. Fully naked, she pressed her breasts against his chest, molded her fingers over the granite definition of his chest, his stomach. The beautiful, perfect length of him.

  In her fantasies—and Lord knew, she’d had fantasies—making love with him had been slow, seductive. Nothing like this wild, frantic ride. Urgent and consuming, her hunger matched his, and she knew he’d been waiting for her to come to him. She loved him, trusted him all the more for it. In the past days, they’d focused solely on work. And every moment, she’d craved his touch.

  Cupping her neck in one hand, he palmed the small of her back with the other. Groaning, he shifted on the unyielding concrete beneath them. Rising above him, she locked eyes with him, his desire all consuming. And took him fully inside her, moaning at the rush of pleasure as their bodies joined. She gave herself to him, desperate to forge a new memory with him, of everything that was good and true and right.

  Even if she were doomed to forget him in a matter of days, she would love him as though the hours and minutes she had left were a lifetime.

  “Meda.” He ground out her name, his voice guttural. He gripped her hips. Clinging to him, she set their pace at a fever pitch. Fires blazed between them, each desperate to take, and be taken. Each thrust stole her breath. His hands molded to her breasts. Damp flesh met damp flesh. Reckless, wild, both careened toward madness.

  Palming her thighs, he drove into her. Gasping, she arched her back, desperate to accommodate him. Crying out as he filled her, she rode him on that wave of release, shuddering, throwing her head back.

  Sated, exhausted, she collapsed on his chest.

  Minutes passed. Neither moved. Shifting slightly, he held her chin, kissed her once. Twice. “Sweet gods, woman,” he proclaimed.

  Basking in his scent, the heat of his body, she traced a finger over the lines etching his forehead, the proof of his pain, the remnants of a lifetime of calculating risks. An old soul, Dev Geary possessed an edge, a hardness no twenty-five-year-old should feel.

  Then he grinned. And he was a boy. In the next breath, he would be a survivor.

  In the time she’d spent with him, she’d known him to be arrogant and unreasonable, fiercely protective, loyal and caring. He was a friend, a brother, dearly missed by those who loved him. Driven, determined. He rescued others, but didn’t realize, in many ways, he also needed rescuing. And she knew it was that blend of both his strength and vulnerability that’d ultimately undone her.

  With each touch, each kiss she fell harder, deeper.

  She hadn’t experienced a single impression with him. She was navigating this new territory, not with her ability, or intellect, but her heart, and her instincts.

  In these last days and minutes, she’d felt more, enjoyed more, lived more. With Dev. Trust, still so new to her, bloomed. In herself. And him.

  Despite his need for revenge. Or maybe because of it.

  Before she’d relived his memory, it had seemed so black and white. Now she wanted to avenge his death. For what he’d lost. And for what they’d never have. Still, she feared revenge could consume him, end him. Nor could she blame him for anything he did to exact it.

  Except die again.

  Sitting, Dev wrapped her legs around his waist, levered himself into a standing position, and took her with him. Light and shadow played across his features. Their bodies. He grinned, cupped her chin in his palm, rubbed a thumb across her forehead. “Miz Meda, have you been rolling around on these dirty floors? There’s only one thing to be done for that.”

  Thrilling in his nearness, his warmth, she laughed in pure delight. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  He kicked the office door open and carried her to the bathroom. Still holding her, he turned on one of the showers full blast, stepped inside, then set her gently on her feet. Hot water rushed over them, rejuvenating. Arousing.

  “Let me,” he murmured. Grinning wickedly, he lathered her head to toe. She reveled in his touch, his hands, loving, gentle. On her back. Her thighs. Her feet. And all the way back to her shoulders. Teasing, exploring. Cherishing. Her heart filling, she kissed him, long and slow, his lips moist and hungry beneath hers. Quickly, he washed himself and turned off the water. Once he’d toweled them both off, he lifted her into his arms and effortlessly carried her through the warehouse. Breathless, she shivered, the air conditioning warring with the humid night air to flush her skin, the twin sensations impossibly titillating.

  His eyes never left her face as he laid her on his bed, as gently as a doll.

  “Again,” he whispered.

  She offered him a sly smile, and a laugh bubbled over. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said, his lips curving.

  Reaching for him, she pressed her lips to the square of his jaw, the angles of his cheeks.

  Tracing a finger over her lips, he parted them and kissed her senseless.

  Nothing could have prepared Dev for the violent surge that’d overtaken them both when they’d harvested the energy from his memory. When he’d come to, seen her unmoving, he’d feared the worst. Realizing she was alive, they’d reacted, not as a human and a Watcher. But as mates.

  And by making love, they’d claimed one another, for always.

  They wouldn’t speak of time, for he knew this moment was the only one that mattered. He traced a thumb along the scar on her jaw. If anyone understood time, and its consequences, it was Meda Gabriel.

  He knelt on the floor beside the bed. Her laughter was an invitation to a party long overdue. Rich and throaty, it resounded in his soul. Her smile bewitched him. Everything about this woman was everything he craved. Meda was life itself.

  Barely covering the peaks of her breasts, her ebony locks hung long and loose, a tangle as wild and mysterious as a jungle night. He brushed it aside, the strands like silk in his fingers, despera
te to see every inch of her, to revel in her beauty.

  Her eyes were an infinite sea of sapphire and violet, flashing with promises of dark fantasies begging to be fulfilled. Caressing her calf, he let his lips trail down, then linger over the tender flesh next to her heel, delighting in her shiver. He skimmed a finger up her thigh, torturing himself, determined to go slow, and savor.

  Her breath hitched, and he pressed his lips to her hand, over her hawk tattoo, fanning its wings around her delicate wrist. Gently, he shifted her to one side. Cupping his hand around the curve of her sweet ass, he kissed her inner thigh, and her every quiver pulsed with his. To tease them both, he slid a finger inside her.

  Moaning, her hips matched the rhythm of his strokes. His abdominal muscles clenched and his erection swelled. He brushed his lips over her stomach, her toned arms. He bent to lick and suck each of her nipples into hard, rosy peaks. Ran his tongue up to her neck and roamed the sweet creaminess of her shoulders. Grazing his teeth over her chin, he slowly, purposefully, brushed his thumb along the scar on her jaw. Kissing her there, he followed with a chain of kisses, until he found her mouth. “You’re beautiful and brave, Meda Gabriel. Every part of you.”

  The taste of her on his tongue, he bit her bottom lip. Gently, he draped one of her legs over his shoulder; knelt on the floor. Flicking his tongue over her sweet, hot center, he held her other leg firmly in place. Her hips pulsed an erotic beat and she entranced him, clutching his hair in her hands. Groaning, he nipped at her tender flesh, teased his tongue over the same spot, nipped again, harder. She moaned, her muscles tightening. Relentless, he plunged his tongue inside her, feasting on her, following the motion with his teeth. Drunk on her, he thrust his fingers into her, and she cried out, shuddering.

  Breath heaving, Dev embraced her as her body went lax. The gods help him. This memory of her, pliant in his hands, craving his touch, was one he could relive and remember, over and over, in the years to come.

  Her eyes wanton and wide with desire, she offered a hand in invitation. Rising, he joined her on the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. Urging her to wrap her quivering legs around his waist, determined to go slow, he eased his full length inside her tight, slick heat. She sighed, her breath warm on his face.

  His muscles tingling, he soaked up her purr of pleasure. Sweet and sexy, siren and scientist, she was all he could ever hope for in a woman. With each stroke, he thrust harder, deeper, wanting to complete and be completed, to build a fortress in his heart and hers. To forge a connection no time or realm could diminish. Twining her fingers through his, he plunged as her hips bucked beneath him, and together, they leapt off the edge.

  Murmuring his name, she rolled slightly, and he hooked a leg around hers. Resting his head next to hers on the pillow, he lay beside her, deliciously spent.

  Minutes passed. Not that he was counting. For once. Meda curled into him and slept, as naturally as if they’d been mates for years.

  Unbidden, the thought that his seed would never grow inside her—that such a wonderful aspect of being a woman had been denied her—almost flattened him.

  What the hell was he thinking? He had no right to any such thing. Not under any circumstances.

  Frowning, he shoved down the pain before it could claim him, and cast eyes in the direction of their makeshift lab. The opportunity he’d waited for was his for the taking.

  A chance to avenge his own death.

  Poetic, or psychotic?

  The gods knew he’d been justified before. And now? He brushed the hair from Meda’s forehead. Every reason—to take that risk—lay in his arms.

  He’d been such a fool. The minute he’d set foot in her bar, he’d connected with her energy. Not because the Watchers wanted to make sure he was on track.

  Because she was his mate.

  I can never have her.

  Brilliant, dark, enigmatic, Meda read like an epic poem he never wanted to end. One he wanted to rediscover, time after time.

  She sighed in her sleep when he rested his head on her shoulder. In the low light coming from the office, he traced a finger over the tattoo of a wolf’s head, inked across her left shoulder blade. He’d gotten only a glimpse of it before, when he’d first seen her naked, in her apartment. Impossibly intricate, a rainbow of color formed its face in the shape of a heart. A half-moon rested at its point. Mystical. Lovely. A story within a story. Just like Meda.

  His gaze caught on the open office doorway. Mere yards from him lay what might possibly be their weapon. Were the unknown consequences he’d spoken of in the Situation room facing him this very moment?

  In the next few hours, she’d begin on the next phase.

  Trying to create Similitude.

  It could kill her.

  The very thing that’d killed him.

  She might be successful, but it could end her. Hugging her tightly, Dev’s brain emptied of all thoughts except one. His heart shredded over what she was willing to do. What she’d already done. His decision locked into place.

  Almost two AM. He would steal these few hours before the dawn in blessed sleep. It might be their last.

  Once the sun rose, both of their lives would change forever.

  Again.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Flint,” Meda said decidedly, flicking a glance at her phone. 4:16 AM. She tore her gaze away from the stone, or more aptly, the paradox sitting on the desk in the pre-fab office, glowing a steely gray. It contained Dev’s past, and quite possibly, the key to the clan’s, and humans’ futures.

  “Flint?” Dev asked.

  “In Iroquois mythology, Flint is one of the twin grandsons of the mother goddess Sky Woman.” Meda wrapped her hands around a mug of hot tea, warming her fingers. Recalling the story her grandmother had told her as a child, the lore and wisdom of centuries comforted her. “He’s often associated with evil. Flint’s brother is the creator god Sky-Holder. It’s said they created humans together. That’s why people have both a good and evil nature. Flint and Sky-Holder are also said to exist in a kind of cosmic balance. Both light and darkness are necessary for life.” She lifted a shoulder. “It seems to fit.”

  “It does at that,” Dev agreed. “Better than ‘anti-Vitality’ stone.” They’d both agreed they needed a different name. “Why is it gray?”

  “Different crystals like quartz get their colors from impurities.” She set the mug down. “You told me the Vitality stone is the sum of many different types of energy. I would say it’s behaving the same way.”

  “My memory is the darkness. The impurity.” He grunted. “There’s the understatement of the year.”

  Her stomach lurching, she took his hand in hers. Day Five. She refused to think about the two days that remained. “It’s time,” she said quietly.

  “Meda.”

  All he had to do was say her name. That alone conveyed his fear and his excitement, along with the passion and promises they’d shared in so short a time.

  “Making love imparts a powerful energy. You said so last night.” Tipping her head back, she smiled into his frowning green eyes, delighted by that fact. She’d never felt so alive, thoroughly loved, with his energy, his heat coursing through her, as it had only hours ago. “I connected with your energy when you first crossed realms. I didn’t know who, or what it was, but I felt it.”

  “You felt that,” he repeated slowly.

  “You and I are connected, in so many ways. I’m taking that into battle with me. I’m taking you into battle with me.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “You’re an amazing woman, Meda Gabriel.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she told him, fighting through twin currents of wonder and fear, struggling with uncertainty.

  Only days ago, she’d left her home with a stranger, helped save two innocent people from being ro
bbed and possibly killed, fully embraced her gift, and fallen in love. Her father would be proud. He too would come into battle with her.

  As they attempted to create Similitude.

  Haenus’ stone sat alongside Libby’s Vitality stone. Because it’d helped her defeat Haenus, Dev felt the stone’s energy would give them an advantage. He picked it up, his expression grim. “Similitude and Vitality should never exist together. Similitude should never exist, period.”

  “If this works, we can stop it. For good.” She hoped. Prayed.

  Tugging her into his arms, he held her close. “I’m going to be here the whole time. And after, I’ll heal you with Vitality energy.”

  There would be an after. She’d survived the process of creating the Flint. With Dev at her side, she would survive this too. The trust she’d forged in her ability, in herself, and with him, converged, fortifying her.

  Accepting Libby’s stone from Dev, she painstakingly connected the necessary circuitry to enable its use as a capacitor. Checked and double-checked her work, same as she’d done the last two days. With Dev’s help, she attached the electrodes, then met his eyes. “Ready.”

  Refusing to hesitate, she clutched Haenus’ stone, prepared to channel its dark energy, emanating as black as the stone itself.

  She breathed. In. Out. Focused.

  Icy prickles of cold dampened her skin.

  Voices. Shadows. Reverberating inside her mind. Images, sensations assaulted her.

  How long do you think you can tango with me here, girlie?

  Haenus.

  Cold. Snowflakes whirled in her vision.

  Concrete. Lilies. Anger. Confusion.

  A hot burst of heat.