Denying the Watcher

by Kim Loraine

  Bringing my sore body to a sitting position takes everything I have, but I do it. I don’t want him touching me anymore. That’s a lie. I want him to touch me so much, I’m basically vibrating. But no. He’s full of pretty words and rainbows when he’s here, but what about all the time he’s gone? “I’m fine. You can go.”

  “Jesus, Willow. You’re not fine. Have you seen yourself in a mirror? You’re sick. And you said … Willow, I think you’re pregnant.”

  My stomach lurches, making me gag. Waving away his ridiculous hypothesis, I take slow, even breaths to control the need to vomit. I’ve got nothing left to purge anyway. “No. Not pregnant.”

  “You said there was something inside you.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Well, not anymore. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a concussion. I sort of remember having an … altercation with a couple of asshole vamps a few days ago. I cracked my head pretty hard on the concrete.”

  “Are you serious? Why didn’t you call me?”

  Standing, I force my stiff limbs to move as I walk to the kitchen sink and get myself a glass of water. I don’t want anything he gives me. “You were busy.” It’s hard to disguise the acid in my tone, but I think I do a pretty good job of it.

  “Why are you mad at me?”

  Damn. Maybe not.

  “I saw you.” The words come out before I can stop them, and they tremble with betrayal. “With her. You were holding her, looking at her like you loved her. I thought … when we said … what we said to each other—that meant more. Obviously, I was wrong. I’m glad I found out now, before it got too intense. Falling in love isn’t the same as being in love.”

  He’s off the couch and next to me even as I try to step away. Damn vampire and his preternatural speed. And damn my loft apartment for not having a wall between the living room and kitchen. His hands cup my face, and I have to fight the shaking in my lower lip. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

  “Willow, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “I went to your house, two nights ago. I saw you in the window. There’s no use hiding it. She was beautiful.”

  “That must’ve been Reese. Galen’s wife.”

  “Are you two sharing her or something? That’s a little extreme. You looked like she was your moon and stars.”

  He shakes his head, that blond hair brushing his shoulders and catching my focus. I want to grab it and pull, partly because I’m pissed, and partly because I want to fuck him. Wait, what? No. I don’t want to fuck him. I’m pissed. Seriously pissed. But he’s so close, and his lips are right there, looking like they’re waiting to be on my skin. What’s wrong with me?

  “It was Sariel with her.”

  “No. He told me he wouldn’t take control unless he had to.”

  Devin nods. “The angel Gabriel took Reese’s son along with Galen to a safe place. She was distraught, and Sariel had control. He loves her. In a very different way from Galen, but it’s there. I’ve let him have control until tonight because she needed something I’m not able to give her.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Really? What’s that?”

  “Devotion. I’m only devoted to you.”

  My heart does a little flip-flop at those words. As I stare into his piercing blue eyes, my pain starts to dissipate and the nausea is all but gone. I wonder idly if he’s hypnotizing me or something, but I’m overtaken by a fierce hunger. I need his body—badly.

  “Devin?” My skin is on fire, breasts swelling, pussy clenching at the thought of his hands on me.

  He steps away, a wary look on his face. “Willow?”

  “I need you.” I pull my shirt over my head and toss it in the direction of the couch.

  “I’m right here.”

  “No … I need you.”

  It dawns on him, and his eyes widen before darkening with lust as I run my hand across his hard abdominals. “Oh.”

  Sliding my fingers under the waistband of his jeans, I brush the tip of his erection, making him suck in a harsh breath.

  “But, Willow, you’re sick.”

  I shake my head. “I feel amazing. So fucking horny, Devin. Please don’t deny me.”

  He bites his lower lip, considering me. “But—”

  “No. This is what I need right now. I’m telling you. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.” I’m so fucking wet for him, all I can think about is his cock making me come over and over. But then, Sariel flashes in my memory. No. He doesn’t get to be here for this. “Tell your Watcher to take a hike for this round, will you? I’m yours, and I don’t want him anywhere near us.”

  Closing his eyes, he groans as I pop the button fly of his jeans with my free hand, grip his length, and stroke. I can tell he’s talking to Sariel, and when he opens his eyes, there’s so much love behind them, I think I might burst.

  “Done. He doesn’t need to feed, and you’re not at full strength. I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

  My legs tingle with anticipation, making me hop from foot to foot. I need him to shut up and fuck me. “Can we curb the conversation until after you make me come?”

  “Fuck, Willow. You’ll get no argument from me.”

  He scoops me into his arms and starts walking toward the bedroom, but those twenty feet seem so far away. “Stop, lay me across the table, and sink inside me, now.”

  Shrugging, he grins and lays me across the table, pulling my shorts over my hips and down while I free his straining erection. In the space between our heartbeats he’s lined up, my shorts are on the floor and his cock is pressing at my slick entrance.

  “Don’t you want some priming first? I should get you ready.”

  “I’m so fucking ready. Come on.” I wrap my legs around his hips and use all my strength to pull him forward. Pure bliss races through my body as his thickness spreads me, pushing all the way inside to the hilt.

  “Jesus, Angel. You’re going to kill me.”

  It’s not enough. This clawing need begs him to move, hard, fast, and deep. I squirm with him inside me, desperate for some friction.

  “Devin, if you don’t start moving, I’m going to really kill you. Like stake your ass and go get one of my battery-operated boyfriends.”

  Fire burns behind his eyes. “The fuck you are.” He grips my hips hard and begins to thrust. Rolling his pelvis, he hits all my special hidden places, making my toes curl.

  I can’t contain my moans as my back arches and my nipples tighten so hard, they hurt. His fingers trail across the pebbled skin, pinching the sensitive nubs and making my moans turn to cries for relief. As my hips begin to circle while he thrusts, his hand inches downward toward my aching clit.

  “Yes, please touch me.” My voice is so breathy, I barely recognize it.

  “My pleasure.”

  He rolls the bundle of oversensitive nerves between his fingers before beginning a rhythmic slide over and over. A ball of pleasure begins to build at my core. The combination of his cock hammering into me and his magical fingers playing at my clit all culminates into something more intense than I’ve ever been able to experience. It’s so close, my breaths come in shallow pants, as though I’m afraid to let it happen.

  “Come on, Willow. Let go.” His whispered words send me over the edge, and my body bursts, limbs twitching as the pleasure crests in harsh waves. It’s not fucking stopping, and my eyes are brimming with tears as I’m overwhelmed. He’s shouting his own release even as a second orgasm crashes over me, this time sending my consciousness beyond my body. I’m hazy and dazed, and so fucking blissed out.

  Until I see Devin. His eyes are wide with shock.

  He pulls out of me, stepping back as though I’ve bitten him before he says, “Willow … your eyes.”

  I can’t believe what just happened. Willow’s usually pale green irises had flashed emerald. Not just green, but glowing, like fucking kryptonite. My limbs feel strangely heavy, as though I’m wading through the ocean wearing clothes.

  “What’s wrong, Devin?” she asks, pur
e innocence and concern in her voice.

  “Y-your eyes were fucking glowing.”

  Shaking her head, she laughs. “No, they weren’t. Shut up.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “Well, I don’t have glowing eyes. I think I’d know.”

  Raking my hand through my hair, I pace the floor, trying to make sense of it. Maybe I’d just been so caught up in everything I’d been feeling, my brain was on overdrive, sensations making me hallucinate. “You’re right. Shit. It’s been a rough week. I must be seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Her stomach growls, the sound so loud it fills the space between us. With eyes her natural shade, she locks gazes with me and grins. “I’m about to start hallucinating from hunger. You don’t mind if I eat, do you? I mean, since you don’t …”

  “The only thing I enjoy eating is your sweet pussy.” I can’t help myself, if there’s an opening to a dirty joke, I take it—every time.

  Her cheeks turn from pink to red, but she takes that lush bottom lip in between her teeth and squirms from her place on the table. “Maybe later?”

  And I’m rock solid in a fucking instant. “Absolutely.”

  I have to pull myself away from her, fasten my pants, and force my feet to walk in the opposite direction as she hops down from the table and slides those tiny cotton shorts over her ass. If I let myself watch the way her tits bounce and sway while she collects her shirt, I’ll have her on her back as I fuck her senseless again. But it’s too soon. She doesn’t recover the way I can. She bends and opens a cabinet, grabbing a bowl and mixing spoon before pulling a box of pancake mix from her pantry. Pancakes? She’s going to make fucking pancakes right now?

  My heart pounds in my ears as I fight the near-uncontrollable urge to touch her. What the hell? It’s always been intense between us, but this is out of control. My blood tingles with an almost magnetic pull to her. Taking shallow breaths, I work to focus on anything other than her scent. Then music fills the air, a sensual, smooth beat pulsing through the room. The song is all sex and no innuendo. If she’s trying to ratchet up the mood, she’s succeeding.

  Unable to take it any longer, I turn to face her from across the room. She pours the batter on a griddle, and sighs, raising her arms over her head in a long stretch as the food cooks. My hands grip my own elbows, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. Fuck. She’s dancing as she pours chocolate chips into a saucepan and stirs. Her shapely ass is barely covered by those shorts, and she moves like she knows I’m watching. This certainly falls into the category of inhumane torture techniques. Maybe even a war crime.

  She’s not looking at me as she sways, but the woman is uninhibited, wild, and dancing like she needs a fucking pole. I’m not complaining, but it seems strange. She’s not been this bold before, not in this way. Bending again, she comes up with another bowl and pours in the contents of the saucepan.

  Clearing my throat, I catch her attention, and my gaze falls straight to her hard nipples, poking out from under her top, begging for me to suck on them. “Are you trying to slowly kill me?”

  A throaty laugh falls from her lips, and her expression changes from innocent to predatory in the blink of an eye. She flips the pancakes onto a plate and grins. “Don’t you like it when I dance?”

  Her lips turn down in a pout even as she dips her finger into the melted chocolate she’d prepared. I groan as soon as that candy-covered finger slides between her lips. She sucks, her cheeks hollowing and eyes closing in an exaggerated demonstration. “Oh, that’s so good. I wish you could have a taste.” Her finger trails down her neck until it hits the deep neckline of her top. “I wonder how it would taste on you?” She cocks her head and smirks before beckoning me to her.

  I can’t resist, not anymore. She’s going to lick melted fucking chocolate off my body. Maybe even my cock if I’m lucky … and I hope I am. “Are you sure you’re ready? It hasn’t been long.”

  Her eyes flash with lust as she nods. “For some reason tonight, I’m insatiable. I don’t think you’ll ever be able to keep me from wanting you.”

  Collecting the bowl of melted chocolate, she grabs a spoon and takes my hand.

  “Willow, what about your food?”

  Casting a glance at the plate of pancakes she’s left cooling on the counter, she shrugs. “They’ll still be there when I finish my dessert.”

  If I wasn’t already in love with her, I would be now. She can do whatever the fuck she wants to me. I’m at her mercy, and I fucking love it.

  Devin is sleeping. Either that, or I somehow fucked him into a coma. Do vampires sleep? I always thought they just sort of rested until the sun went down, but it’s only midnight. He should be awake.

  Standing next to the bed, I take a moment to appreciate his gorgeous, toned ass, only half-covered by the bedsheets. God, he is everything I’ve fantasized about. Better, if I’m honest.

  “Devin,” I say, my tone hushed, simply because I don’t want him to startle awake and vamp out on me. When he doesn’t move, I call his name again, louder. Still nothing. Fuck, he’s not even breathing. Does he need to breathe?

  Lifting my foot, I poke his exposed butt cheek with my toe. Shit. I think I killed him. How do you resuscitate a vampire?

  One blond eyebrow arches as he opens his eye. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Relief courses through me. “I thought maybe I killed you.”

  A low chuckle rumbles through his chest as I take a seat next to him on the bed. “You thought you screwed me to death?”

  A heated blush warms my cheeks. “Maybe. I didn’t think vampires slept.”

  “We don’t.” He rolls to his side, that glorious chest on full display. “Except during daylight. And even then, it’s more like death. We can stay awake, but it’s hard on our bodies.”

  “So, what was that?” I gesture toward him lying on the mattress.

  He rubs his chin before running his fingers through his hair. “A sex stupor?” As he sits up, he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  Shaking his head, he takes a heavy breath. “My head hurts. I’m fucking dizzy as hell. Did you drug me or something?”

  I would be offended, but I’ve threatened to kill him multiple times now, so I can’t blame him for being suspicious. “No.” Reaching out, I rest my palm on his forehead to find his skin cooler than usual and coated in a clammy sweat. “You look sick. Your eyes have dark circles.”

  He chuckles lightly, but I hear an edge of nerves behind the laugh. “I don’t get sick. Unless I’ve been poisoned. I know you didn’t poison me.”

  “Do you need to feed?”

  A frown creases his brow. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Maybe you’ll feel better if you do.” I hold my wrist out in front of his lips. “Here.”

  Even though he doesn’t feel well, he smirks. “You just want me to make you come again.”

  Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “I’m not going to lie. It’s a perk.”

  As soon as his teeth pierce my flesh, a wave of ecstasy flows over me. I’m moaning and trying desperately not to writhe on the bed. But he pulls free all too soon, his frown deepening.

  “What?” I ask, a sense of dread overtaking the diminishing euphoria.

  His lips move, but he doesn’t make a sound. Like he’s having a silent conversation I’m not privy to.

  Without warning, his ice-blue eyes snap open and swirl with silver as his strong hand encircles my throat. His voice is a harsh growl. “When the fuck did you get a Watcher?”

  The name Armaros rolls over in my mind again and again. She’s been infected. Willow—my Willow has a Watcher inside her. How the fuck did this happen?

  “Tell, me, Willow. When?” The fear in her eyes shatters me, and I regain control from Sariel, taking my hand from her throat.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She flies off the bed. I can hear her heart thrumming like a caged bird. “I don’t have a Watcher.”

&
nbsp; “You do. Sariel tasted it in your blood. He said Armaros.” I stand and wrap my naked body in a blanket. My legs wobble, making me suddenly aware of my weakness. “I saw your eyes change. I was fucking right. They glowed.”

  Horror fills her features. “No. This can’t be happening.” All the color drains from her cheeks. “It was Mark,” she whispers as tears shine in her eyes. “I didn’t remember before, but now—”

  “What? Who the fuck is Mark?” Jealousy, hot and untempered, flares inside me.

  “Oh God. That’s why you’re sick. I’ve been feeding from you. Devin, I could have killed you.”

  “We need to circle back to Mark. Why were you with another man?”

  With a sigh, she sits. “My fiancé.”

  An overwhelming pain grips my heart but is quickly overtaken by confusion. “Your fiancé is dead.”

  She nods, then shakes her head before dropping it into her palms. “He was … is … It’s all my fault. Azazel made them turn him. He gave Mark a Watcher.” The heartbreak in her voice nearly takes me to my knees. “I staked him. But he bit me before he died. His eyes flashed green, and he bit me.” As she brings her hand to her neck, I see the nearly healed skin. “He said Azazel has been after me for the last six years. Why? Why would he want me?”

  Because she’s yours. Sariel’s voice echoes in my head.

  “When the fuck did this happen?”

  Her hands are balled into fists as she clenches her teeth. “A few days ago. After I saw you with Reese.”

  Shit. I have no clue how to handle something like this. She looks the same, just like the woman I ache to be near every moment of the night. But, I feel violated somehow. Like she’s a double agent and I don’t know if I can trust her if the Watchers have access to her. These Watchers have been looking for a way in, for some path to Sariel. The path was me. This is my fault.

  Pulling on my jeans, I search the floor for my shirt before I remember I left it in the living room. “I … I have to leave. I’m sorry, Willow.”

  I see the moment she shuts down. Her face becomes a blank mask, but disbelief and hurt lurk behind her eyes.