by Kim Loraine
“You are feeding. Every time you fuck her, you drain her life force.” He stands to his full height, almost as tall as me, and flicks his ice-blue gaze toward the stairs.
“What? But, I’ve never been able to do this before.”
“Have you heard the stories of the fallen angels? They’re sometimes called Watchers.” I shake my head, gesturing for him to go on. “The story goes that Watchers are angels who fell from Heaven because they sinned, lusting after human women. Instead of descending to Hell, they stayed on earth, taking wives and having children with them. As time went on, the fallen needed new bodies and found more successful unions in the bodies of immortals: vampires. These creatures are also known as the incubus. There are only a few hundred in the world. Most fallen have driven out the human part of the vampire, feeding solely on blood just like us, but some stay hidden deep inside their host until something triggers them. Those that share a body have to feed on lust as well as blood.”
Incubus. All I can picture is a monster that rapes women in the night. I have an idea of where this is going, and I don’t like it.
“You’re an incubus, Galen, but up until now the Watcher inside you has stayed dormant. Your woman must have woken it.”
“I’m not an incubus.”
“You are. I’ve suspected it for several years now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have when you first told me about her. You have to stay away from her. Repeated encounters with an incubus end in one of three ways. Severe physical and mental deterioration, death, or pregnancy. The Watcher in you sensed something special about her. It won’t stop trying to beget a child with her as the mother.”
Beget? Suddenly everything has become dire and overtly biblical. I’ve always been a believer, even more so after becoming a vampire, but fallen angels? For some reason, that’s harder to swallow.
“You care for this woman?”
“Reese,” I say.
“Reese. Clearly, she’s more to you than just prey. If you don’t want to see her dead or her life altered drastically, you have to stay away from her.”
The idea of never seeing Reese again, never feeling her skin on mine or tasting her as she comes on my tongue, enrages me. I just found her.
“Let me take her. I’ll watch over her until she’s recovered.” Devin moves to the stairs and starts up them. Suddenly overcome with the urge to protect what is mine, I lunge at him, a vicious snarl rising from my throat. No one is taking her from me.
“Keep your hands off her. She’s mine.”
He darts away from me, blurring out of sight. A burning pain shoots up my arm as he seizes me by the wrist and twists my elbow at an unnatural angle behind my back.
“This is what I’m talking about. How long have you known her? A week, maybe more? This isn’t you talking, Galen. It’s the Watcher.”
He releases me, and I sit on the stairs, resting my head in my hands. I tug at my hair, trying to distract from the all-consuming need to be with her. He’s right. This isn’t me.
“I don’t think I can give her up,” I admit. I’m not strong enough, and I don’t know how much of my need is the Watcher’s influence and how much is my connection to her.
He shakes his head. “If you don’t, you’re risking her life. She won’t be safe unless you cast out the Watcher.”
“Fine. How do I do that?”
He shrugs. “No clue.”
Soft nudges on my forehead pull me from my dreams. I blink a few times and see that I’m in my bed, my room, with Mochi, my cat, head-butting me. Frowning, I try to recall how I got here. The last thing I remember is being at work, and Galen fucking me against the wall in the green room. Oh God. I had sex with a man who is practically a stranger—for the second time—at work.
A knock on the door has me sitting up and pulling my comforter tight around my body.
“Reese? You awake?” Trisha peeks in, a plate in one hand.
“Yeah, come on in.”
She sits on the side of my bed, concern evident in her posture. “How are you feeling?”
I roll my head from side to side, stretch, assess. I feel fine—great, even. “Good. Really good, actually.”
“Yeah?” She grins. “You looked like absolute shit when that guy brought you home on Saturday night.”
“You mean, yesterday?”
“No, hon. It’s Tuesday. You’ve been in and out for two days straight. I thought I was going to have to take you to the hospital.”
My stomach drops. Tuesday? I lost two days. “Did Galen drop me off?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t get his name. He didn’t look like the guy from the bar, if that’s who you mean.”
Anger burns in my chest. He passed me off to a stranger. He didn’t even make sure I got home.
Trisha shoves the plate of toast in my face. “Here. You need to eat something.”
Wrinkling my nose, I try to push the food away, but she’s insistent. After I take a few obligatory bites, she leaves me to my breakfast. Once I’m certain the toast is going to stay down, I stand, expecting to be overcome by the fatigue that comes with severe illness. Instead, I’m energized. I could run a 5k, no problem. Maybe I will. Lord knows I need something to distract me from thoughts of Galen and the fact that he didn’t even care enough about me to take me home himself.
My phone chimes from my nightstand, making my heart jump into my throat. I want so badly for it to be Galen, but he doesn’t have my number. Wincing, I open the message from Barnes.
Hope you’re feeling better. Take as much time as you need.
My eyebrows rise. That’s a very uncharacteristically kind message from my boss. Usually he’s more of a you’d better be dying kind of manager. Had I really been that sick?
As I scroll through the messages I’ve accumulated over the last few days, I see three in a row from an unknown number. My breath catches when I read the words.
I can’t stop thinking about the taste of your pussy.
I can’t stop feeling your heat on my cock.
I can’t stop wanting you.
Heat rushes over my entire body. Galen’s velvet-smooth voice rings in my ears and sends chills up my spine.
I type a short response and hit Send, but the message fails. I try again. It won’t go through.
Frowning, I try to call him. The call fails as well.
“Argh,” I grumble. It’s unfair that he can message me, but I have no way of contacting him.
Another text comes through, and I bite back a groan when I see it’s a picture. For a second, I’m terrified he’s sent me a dick pic, then I’m curious. When I open the message, I let out a soft gasp. It’s my mouth, lips slightly parted. I can make out his pillowcase.
I want your mouth on me.
Frustrated that I can’t respond, I toss my phone on my bed and strip off my clothes. I need a shower and some quality time with my vibrator. No. I just need Galen.
The water is soothing as it hits my skin, and for a moment, I think I can push Galen’s texts out of my mind. Nope. Not even close. I keep picturing all the things he said. But most of all, I can’t move past the visual of his last message. I want my mouth on him too. As I wash my hair, the suds run down my body, tickling my oversensitized skin. Eyes closed, I pretend my hands are his, using a feather-light touch to caress my breasts, circling my nipples until they’re hard peaks. My fingers slide down my belly until they find my slick folds, moving over the tender flesh.
“Galen,” I whisper, visualizing him as he entered me for the first time. His gaze had held wonder, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening as he’d moved inside me.
I fantasize that he’s here with me, his hands roaming my body while his hard length presses against my ass. I can feel his lips trailing kisses along my neck, over my shoulder, adding sharp nips here and there. He presses his hand against my clit and moves up and down as I reach behind me to grasp his cock. I can hear his hiss of pleasure as I stroke the head, feel the pulse of his arousal.
I turn and drop to my knees, the water cascading over us both, running in rivulets over his toned torso. Without any added ceremony, I take his cock in my mouth, and he cries out in a language I don’t understand. The sound of his pleasure sends a jolt straight to my core, making me moan around him. Threading his fingers in my hair, he pushes my head farther down on him, moving slightly as I work him. My own fingers trail down my body to work my clit, bringing me to the edge of orgasm.
A harsh knock on the bathroom door jolts me from my fantasy, denying me my release and leaving me frustrated.
“You okay in there?” Trisha calls.
Clearing my throat, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay, just making sure you weren’t dead.”
I huff out a frustrated breath. Not dead, but definitely not satisfied. My phone chimes from the counter, and a thrill runs through me when I see I missed a text from him while I was in the shower.
Do you think of me when you touch yourself? I was thinking of you.
I blush uncontrollably, my cheeks burning and my unsatisfied arousal roaring back to life. I wish I could text him back, call him, hear his voice.
Damn Trisha for interrupting me.
“He’s so intense, Trisha. Seriously. Every time we’ve seen each other, it ends up being completely physical.” I flush, my cheeks burning as I confess.
“And this is a bad thing … why?” She doesn’t even look up at me from her seated stretch. Frowning, she toys with a hole in the fabric of her running tights. “Damn, I just bought these.”
I shake my head. She’s not going to understand. Trisha is used to wham-bam-thank-you encounters. As we begin our jog around Green Lake, I try to take my mind off Galen. The warm air coats my skin like an uncomfortable blanket as we run. Wisps of hair have escaped the tie I pulled it into, and the strands tickle my temples. The feeling reminds me of Galen’s lips ghosting over my skin. Dammit.
“Ask him on a date.” Trisha’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and not a moment too soon.
“What?”
“A date. You, him, a meal with a table separating your pelvises.”
My ears burn. “Trisha!”
“What? You can talk about sex, but I can’t?” She gestures at the nearly empty path. “No one is around to hear us.”
Shaking off my embarrassment, I pick up the pace, pushing us hard enough so we can’t talk and run at the same time.
Later that day, her words still tumble around in my head. A date. No contact between pelvises. The idea has merit. As I push my cart through the grocery store, I ponder how to approach Galen with this idea. I don’t exactly have a way to contact him. It’s not like we plan our encounters; they just happen.
My phone rings, and for a moment, that thrill of anticipation races up my spine. Maybe it’s Galen.
“Hello?”
“Reese, it’s Jay.”
I deflate a little at the sound of my friend on the other end of the line. And then I frown. I know why he’s calling me. He’d somehow roped me into doing a half marathon with him at the end of November.
“Hey,” I say, not disguising the dread that has taken hold in my stomach.
His laugh flows over the line. “You don’t sound so happy to hear from me. I’m offended.”
“Sorry. I know why you’re calling, and I hate you a little bit because of it.”
“Wimp. Come on, you know you want to go thirteen-point-one with me.”
I fight my smile. He’s a charmer. If he wasn’t gay, I would probably fall in love with him for that alone.
“No. I really don’t.”
“Shut up. We need to start training together so we know how we each pace ourselves.”
He’s right, but that means I’m really going to have to focus and work hard.
“Ugh, fine. When do you want to start?”
Our conversation continues through the rest of my shopping trip. Jay gives me a moment-by-moment replay of his latest date, even as I attempt to hang up. By the time I finally end the call and hit the parking lot, the sun has set, bathing everything in a beautiful hazy blue darkness. Walking to my car, I start mentally planning my night in, dinner, maybe a date with Jake Gyllenhaal on Netflix. A prickling awareness builds between my shoulder blades as I unlock my trunk. Someone is watching me. Uncomfortable, I begin moving a little faster, my heartbeat picking up speed.
“Reese,” a deep baritone calls out to me, sending shivers of recognition down my spine.
Turning my head, I follow the sound and see Galen closing the door of a sleek black sports car. His dark hair is slicked back, showing off his strong features. Those cheekbones. Damn. I could be less superficial and appreciate his personality, but I’m not going to. He’s so fucking sexy. Even the way he moves sends a wave of desire over me. A soft smile plays across his lips as he approaches me, and it does funny things to my heart.
“Galen, hi,” I say too brightly in an attempt to cover my ogling. “What are you doing here?”
Cocking an eyebrow, he gives me a disbelieving look and glances at the bags in my cart. “Groceries.”
I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I be a normal, well-spoken woman when he’s around? It’s like all the blood rushes from my head to my vagina as soon as I see him.
Gaze roaming my body, his expression changes from playful to heated. I wish I’d put on something nicer than yoga pants and my loose tank that proudly states Bazinga!
“What are your plans later?” he asks.
“Uh, dinner and Netflix,” I admit.
His lips quirk up in a mischievous grin. “I can think of a much more interesting way to entertain you.”
Taking three big steps, he closes the distance between us and runs his fingers over my exposed collarbone and up my neck.
Holy hell. His hips press against mine, making me think of my conversation with Trisha. Backing away, I return to loading my groceries in my car. Galen immediately grabs two bags and does the same. His arm brushes mine as we pass each other, and I tense. His stare finds mine in the dim light of the parking lot, and he steps close to me once again. Those lips of his are only inches away, and I want nothing more than to feel them on mine. Honestly, I want a lot more than a kiss, but I remember what Trisha suggested.
“We should go on a date,” I blurt. Zero finesse over here.
His eyebrows rise, and amusement colors his features. “Should we?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “It seems like we both suck at the one-night-stand thing. Maybe we should just try dating.”
Nodding, he places the last bag in my car. “Fine. I’ll pick you up in two hours.”
I open my mouth to protest, but close it almost instantly. Why fight it? “Dinner. With tables.”
What is wrong with me?
He laughs. “Okay, tables it is.”
Needing to touch him, I place a small, awkward peck on his cheek before grabbing my cart with the intent of pushing it back to the store. Cool hands cover mine, bringing my gaze to his amazing brown eyes.
“I’ll take it.” He winks at me before walking away, taking my basket with him. “Two hours, Reese. Be ready,” he calls back over his shoulder.
My focus snaps back from where it had settled on his ass at his words. Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I manage to get out some kind of noise of agreement.
Tables. Definitely.
A date. I haven’t been on a fucking date in … maybe ever. It was nearly impossible for me to control my raging need to have her in the parking lot of that damn grocery store. I don’t even need to buy groceries, but I’d seen her driving and couldn’t resist. This fucking Watcher has turned me into a stalker.
I chuckle to myself as I consider her ludicrous idea that a table will keep us safe from each other. She doesn’t realize that there’s nothing on this earth that will keep me from her.
I get back in my car once I’m sure she’s driven away. It’s fine. If that’s what she wants, I’m willing to go through the motions.
On my way home, I stop by Wild Ginger to make a reservation. The hostess laughs when I insist on a secluded table during the dinner rush.
“I’m sorry, sir. Even midweek, a seven o’clock reservation is just not possible.”
Smiling, I turn my gaze on her and pulse just a little bit of my power. “Can you check again?” I ask, locking gazes with her.
With a soft gasp, she begins typing. “Oh, look at that. We’ve got one table available. Mister—”
“Turner,” I say, taking her hand and pressing a chaste kiss over her knuckles. Her cheeks flush, and I know I should be feeling the rush of hunger, but it doesn’t come.
As I walk back to my car, I try to figure out why I’m acting so strangely. I can’t think of anyone but Reese. At the mere fleeting thought, my cock lengthens and my fangs tingle in my mouth. Is this the Watcher, or me? It feels like me. The drive home gives me a chance to get ahold of myself. I need to be more in control if I want to avoid hurting her.
Devin is waiting for me when I walk through the door. He’s dressed to go out hunting, looking like a goddamn rock star in his leather pants and matching jacket. I know he’ll want me to go with him.
“Where have you been? I need a wingman.”
“Grocery shopping,” I answer.
He laughs and stands up, grabbing his phone. “Hilarious. Come on. Pioneer Square should be ripe for the picking tonight.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a date in less than an hour.”
He cocks an eyebrow and stares me down. “With Reese?”
It’s hard for me to look at him. He’s like an older brother, always judging and usually right. “Aye.”
“What’s wrong with you? I told you, you’ll kill her.”
Tugging at my hair in frustration, I pace the floor. “I’m not sure if that’s true. If the Watcher needs her in order to feed, why would that kill her? What will happen after she dies?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not the fucking Watcher authority. Is it really worth it to test out your theory?”