by Kim Loraine
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Releasing the Watcher
Acknowledgements
About the Author
DENYING THE WATCHER
Copyright©2017
KIM LORAINE
Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood
Editor Linda Ingmanson
Formatted by Champagne Formats
Proofread by Megan Luker & Virginia Tesi Carey
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by KIM LORAINE
ISBN: 978-1548139568
www.kimlorainewriter.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Releasing the Watcher
Acknowledgements
About the Author
To my husband,
for putting up with my Netflix binges in the name of “research”
And to Charlie Hunnam … the hair, the bod, the bike
“Put your dick back in your pants and come with me, you horny vampire bastard.”
Nothing kills a hard-on like the messenger of God poofing into existence just as a gorgeous woman is about to take your dick into her mouth.
With a touch of his finger to her forehead, Gabriel sends my partner for the night into a deep slumber, and I tuck myself back into my pants.
“Dammit, Feathers. Things were just getting good,” I groan.
The asshole smirks and leans against the dresser. “Sorry. Oh, wait. No. I’m not. You should be used to this by now. Besides, you should know that you won’t be able to … reach completion unless she’s meant for you.” He frowns, distaste clear in his expression. “That one is not yours, or Sariel’s.” With a sneer, he turns his face away from the sleeping woman. “We’ve found traces of the Watchers in your old stomping grounds.”
“I’m over two hundred years old. My old stomping grounds could be anywhere on the fucking planet.”
He rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Seattle. There seems to be quite a few of them gathering in Seattle. Let Sariel out. I need to discuss this with him.”
I let out a breath and run my fingers through my hair. I can’t believe it’s been almost five years since I agreed to this mess and allowed a fallen angel—incubus, Watcher, whatever you want to call him—to take up residence in my body.
I’d been so fucking naive to focus only on getting to use my cock for more than just decoration. Being a vampire has a lot of positives, but impotence is not one of them.
There are other good things that go with this deal, I’m sure, but I was really only thinking below the belt. Two-hundred-plus years without an orgasm is really unfair. And now, I’m walking around with Sariel in my head, a cock that works but won’t let me come, and I’m functioning as a one-man army against legions of the fallen. Somehow, I think I got the raw end of this fucking deal.
“Sariel doesn’t want to come play. He’s pouting at the moment because I haven’t been able to feed him … for almost five fucking years.” I sound tense, and for good reason. The angel gets cranky when he’s hungry, and me feeding on blood doesn’t do it for him the way sex does. I rake my fingers through my sandy-blond hair and try to find him in my consciousness. I’d much rather he take over and deal with Feathers. No dice. The moody Watcher is MIA.
“So, what are the minions of Satan doing in Seattle?” I fight the urge to sigh as Gabriel stands and begins pacing the floor.
“We think they’re converging in order to launch an attack.”
“An attack on who? It’s not like they can just storm the gates of Heaven from the top of the Space Needle.”
Cocking an eyebrow, the smarmy angel stares me down. “They’re gaining strength. Their numbers have grown rather than dwindled. You haven’t been doing your job.”
“Hey, I’m just one man. I’ve taken out hundreds of Watchers, but they keep coming back. Immortal beings … remember? The vampire might die, but you can’t kill a fallen angel. They’re kind of like herpes.”
A rare smile quirks the corners of Gabriel’s mouth. “Speaking from personal experience?”
“Shut up, or I’ll shove your damn halo up your celestial ass.”
“You need to get to Seattle by tomorrow. I’ve already contacted Galen. He’ll meet you there. The home he owns in the city is warded against the Watchers and should keep you and Sariel cloaked.”
My stomach clenches at the mention of my friend. I haven’t seen him since I took Sariel from him. I suppose I should be grateful to Sariel for that. The Watcher’s shift from Galen’s body to mine should have killed Galen. Instead, I had waited in awe as the fallen angel went up against an archangel, demanding my friend be saved and his soul returned. Now my friend Galen is a human, happily married, with a four-year-old son I’ve
never met.
“He shouldn’t be involved in this. He’s human. You’re going to get him killed and leave Reese a widow.”
“He knows what he’s doing. Besides, the Watchers aren’t after him anymore, but his son is another matter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The boy has been manifesting … unusual qualities.”
Sariel stirs in my head. That little nugget of information perked him up.
“What kind of qualities?”
“Grace. He has a trace of Sariel’s grace.”
Immediate, blinding pain grips my skull as Sariel charges forward and my world goes dark.
“Yeah, you’d better run, you sons of bitches!” The groans of pain coming from the stupid punks who’d tried to mug me make me want to jump for joy as I watch them stumble away. I may be small, but I’m a sandan black belt, and I know how to defend myself. Those assholes may have thought I’d be an easy target. They were wrong.
Smiling to myself, I pick up the bag of groceries I’d dropped as I’d roundhouse kicked one of them. The plastic had ripped, and now my apples are scattered across the pavement.
“Damn.” As I gather the runaway fruit, I frown when I see bruises marring the red skin. They were all I’d gone to the store for, and now they’d been sullied, all because of a couple of jackasses.
After tucking the fruit into my backpack, I hitch the bag high on one shoulder and make my way toward my apartment. Rain mists the air, coating my skin and hair in a fine sheen of frizz-inducing moisture. Thank fuck I’m almost home. I’ve got a pint of Death by Chocolate ice cream waiting in the freezer, and I feel a Sons of Anarchy binge coming on. I need a bad-ass biker to distract me from the rest of my shitty day.
I’m distracted, my mind wandering back to the potential mugging I’d avoided, as I fish my keys out of my pocket, stepping off the curb and into the street without looking—like a fucking idiot. The squeal of tires has me turning and staring at the bright headlight and chrome rims of a Harley-Davidson. The tire is so close, I can feel the vibration of the engine against my leg.
“What the hell are you doing?” The man on the bike stares me down. His eyes burn a vivid blue in the light of the streetlamp.
My heart flutters like a godforsaken teenage girl as his gaze travels over my body. I’m sure I look like a hot mess in my workout clothes with my hair piled high on my head in a messy bun. But the way he’s staring makes heat coil low in my belly, and I have to clench my thighs together to keep from squirming as the arousal crashes over me.
“Are you going to get out of my way?” His question holds a hint of amusement, making me snap out of my lust-fueled stupor.
“Oh, sorry. Thanks for not killing me.”
As I step off the road and onto the sidewalk, I expect to hear his engine rev. Instead, a hand grips my wrist over the thick fabric of my sweatshirt. Instinctively, I turn, reaching up to grab his shoulder. In less than a second, I’m stepping around before I sweep his legs out from under him. Hovering over his big body, I breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing through me.
“What the fuck?” His eyes are wide, disbelief coloring his features. “How did you do that so fast?”
I let him go and take a step back, not wanting to give him the chance to get his hands on me again. “Don’t come any closer, asshole.”
He slowly gets to his feet, hands held up and a placating expression on his handsome face. My keys dangle from his left hand. “You dropped these.”
Oh my God. Mortification sets in and I can feel the heat of a blush flood my cheeks. So, I may have overreacted a bit. Closing my eyes in a long blink, I let out a frustrated sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry. It’s been the worst fucking day, and I’m a little on edge.”
Arching a blond eyebrow, he smirks. “A little?”
“A lot.” I hold my hand out for my keys. As his fingers touch mine, a sizzle of electricity runs through my body. Skin to skin makes a hell of a difference. I suck in a breath, trying to avoid his gaze, but I can see the tension between us isn’t one-sided, as his shoulders stiffen.
He pulls his hand away and shoves it in the front pocket of his jeans. “What’s your name?”
“Willow.” I don’t know why I’m giving him my real name. No one has called me that in almost six years—except for Alanna. I’ve been lots of different girls over the years, but my most recent name has been Lorelei. That’s what people know me as here in Seattle. And when I move on again, I’ll choose a new name.
The man looks me over, a darkness in his eyes that sends a shiver of anticipation through me. “I’m Devin.” He doesn’t hold his hand out, and I have to say, I’m a little relieved.
Squaring my shoulders, I look up at him and nod. “Nice to meet you. Sorry I kicked your ass to the ground. You should learn not to sneak up on people.”
A laugh falls from his lips … his full, playful lips that I want to suck on. “No problem. It’s not often I get schooled by a gorgeous woman half my size.”
I try to ignore the fact that he just called me gorgeous, but my traitorous nipples harden as the word flows through my head like a caress. Thank God I’m wearing a baggy sweatshirt … and a bra. He bites his lower lip and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, twirling it between his fingers before, curiously, putting it back.
“Smoking will kill you, you know.” My scolding tone makes him smirk.
He chuckles and shakes his head in response. As I turn and begin walking away, I can’t help but look back over my shoulder. He’s watching me, an intense fire burning in those bright blue eyes. Raising his chin, he nods in my direction and starts back toward his bike.
Shivers run down my spine as I turn the corner and head up the stairs to my apartment. My body is ablaze with need as flashes of his eyes, lips, broad shoulders, and the rough baritone of his voice replay. I said I wanted a hot biker. I guess I should be careful what I wish for.
I adjust myself for the millionth time in the last hour as I walk the streets of Seattle, looking for someone to feed from. All I can think about is Willow. Her slight frame and pouty red lips. What those lips would look like wrapped around my aching cock. How it would feel to slowly sink inside her wet and willing pussy.
Oh Jesus. Of course, it wouldn’t do me any good to do any of that since I can’t fucking have an orgasm. I’m hoping Sariel hears me, that maybe he’ll apologize or do some kind of fallen angel magic and help rid me of my five-year case of blue balls. But no. The fucker is staying hidden. I know it’s in part due to the fact that the other Watchers can sense him when he’s in the forefront of my being, but damn it, I need someone to yell at.
Muttering to myself I wander into a club. It’s a veritable smorgasbord. A buffet of beautiful women, all ready and willing for me to rock their worlds. All I have to do is choose. A curvy blonde catches my eye and slinks across the dance floor, her lips shining with gloss. She’ll do.
“Hey, stranger. You look like you know how to give a girl a ride.”
I almost laugh. She’s brazen and practically serving herself up on a platter. “That isn’t far from the truth. Are you sure you know how to handle someone like me?”
Her lips twitch as she bats long fake eyelashes. “I’m sure I can learn.”
Taking her hand, I fight the skin-crawling discomfort her touch incites and lead her toward the darkened hallway. I’m not fucking her, not here and certainly not while I’m thinking of Willow. All I need is this woman’s blood to sustain me, at least for the next few days. The woman rubs her hand over my crotch, pouting when she finds me soft.
“If this is all you’ve got packing, I think we’re done here.”
I growl low in my throat, pressing her against the wall and staring deep into her eyes. “We’re done when I say.”
She smiles, and I feel sick. “I see, you like it rough before you can get to business. That’s fine. Do you want me to struggle?”
I just want to get this over with, but my damn fangs aren’t descending. I c
an feel them, their presence in my gums a constant reminder of what I am. Why isn’t my cock threatening to punch through my jeans like it was a mere hour earlier? All I’d needed was the slight brush of my fingers across Willow’s and my dick was throbbing. Taking a heavy breath, I step away from her, shaking my head.
“Get the fuck away from me.” I spit the words in her direction without meeting her gaze.
“Are you for real?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I storm out of the bar, frustration clouding my already tense mood. Throwing my leg across my bike, I start her up and peel out onto the street. Galen’s house is close by. Maybe I can clear my head before trying to hunt again.
As I pull into the underground garage, I immediately catch sight of Galen’s shiny black Range Rover, and a grin spreads across my face. I take the stairs and am bombarded by the scent of humans. Tiny ones.
“It smells like shit and baby powder in here,” I announce as I enter the living room.
Galen’s hand rises as if to shush me. The absolute gall of the man has never ceased to amaze me. He’s resting on the couch with a little pink-and-white bundle on his chest. She’s sound asleep, but every time he moves, she frowns and lets out a whimper.
“Another one? Can’t you keep your dick under control?”
He grins and shakes his head as Reese, his wife, walks into the room. She shoots me a concerned glance before scooping the baby off her husband and bouncing gently as she walks away.
“What’s with her?”
Galen sits up and runs a hand through his hair. He looks older, lines around his eyes, stubble on his jaw, and I’m fucking envious. “She’s stressed about the bloody Watchers, Devin. And … Sariel. We thought we were done with them after everything. Now they’re after little Sean.”
I nod, and Sariel stirs in my head.
As my friend surveys me, I recognize the look in his eyes. He’s worried. Standing, he moves toward me and clenches his jaw. “You look like absolute shite. Haven’t you been feeding?”
“I have.”
“The Watcher?”
Shaking my head, I let out a long-suffering sigh. “It seems there’s been a little snag in my fuck-my-brains-out plan.”