Waking the Watcher

by Kim Loraine

  “Who’s back on the prowl?” A sultry, feminine voice floats to us from the alley as we walk past.

  “Finally, you’re here. What gives, Andrea? You’ve been here a week, and we haven’t seen you at all. If it wasn’t for your tendency to fling your damn shoes wherever you want, I don’t think we’d even know you were here.” Devin smiles and wraps his arms around her.

  She’s a small woman, with skin the color of dark coffee. Her irises glitter in the light from the street lamps as she surveys me. It takes everything I have not to squirm under her penetrating stare. It feels almost like she’s looking for the Watcher, not me.

  “Galen.” She reaches up and grips my shoulders, pulling me down almost nose to nose. Her wide black eyes lock onto mine and a strange sensation of weightlessness comes over me. “Ah, there you are, Sariel.”

  I’m caught off guard by her. Sariel. The Watcher has a name? Of course he does. I can feel him, flexing his muscles, trying to break through.

  “Let him speak, Galen. This will be so much easier if you do,” Andrea urges. Her jaw is set, but I sense the buzz of anticipation in her as well.

  “I don’t know how,” I say. My voice sounds strange. It echoes in my head as though I’m in an empty hallway.

  I’m ready. Let me speak, Galen. Give up your control. I’ll give it back to you. The voice in my head is rough and laced with exhaustion. It makes sense. He’s been fighting with me for weeks, and I’ve not fed him for almost a month now. I toy with the idea of letting him take the reins, but fear takes hold. Devin told me that all the stories of the Watchers ended with the vampire host losing his mind. What if I give my body over to Sariel’s control and he never lets me back in? What will he do to Reese?

  “Galen, Sariel is not the enemy. I promise you,” Andrea says as she lets go of me and takes my hands instead.

  Letting my lids fall shut, I breathe deeply, taking in the scents of the city as I let go and fade into the background of my own mind.

  Finally. One hundred years of watching life play out without being able to do a single thing of my own choosing has left me frustrated beyond belief. I’ve got control. Smiling as I stretch my new arms above my head, I take a moment to get used to this body. Galen took care of himself before he became a vampire. He’s muscular and truly fit. If I remember right, he’d been a farmer in his other life. I’d watched him learn how to do it all on his own after his maker abandoned him. There is so much I could have taught him, but I was cursed to stay dormant and do what I was named for. I watched.

  “Sariel, why did you wake?” Andrea asks.

  “I must have found the other half of my soul,” I answer simply.

  “The girl? The one Galen is so fond of is your soul mate?”

  I’m not one hundred percent sure about this. Reese definitely woke me. My instinct to claim her, to beget my children with her, to have her in every way definitely roared to life the moment we saw her. But, if she were truly mine, Galen wouldn’t stand a chance at controlling me. Still, there’s something special about her, that’s for sure.

  “I can’t be sure. Galen continues to push me back.”

  “You’re killing her each time you are with her,” Devin tosses that little nugget of wisdom at me with a stern expression.

  “I know. It’s one of the reasons I’m not positive she’s the one.” I can feel Galen already pushing for control again. He’s strong-willed. One of the reasons I’ve enjoyed hitching a ride in his consciousness for so long. “But I can feed without killing her. Galen has seen that.”

  Aye, you bastard. You damn near killed her once already, though. And now she thinks I’m a fucking stalker because you make me act crazy.

  Oh, Galen. I hate to tell him that it’s not all me. Yeah, I’m protective over what’s mine. I’ve been inside her and plan to be again. If she carries my child, that will be the true sign that she’s my mate, the one I’ve been searching for since she was lost to the Great Flood. Galen doesn’t want to admit how much of the possessive asshole is actually him. I’m the lust. He’s everything else.

  He grapples for control, uncomfortable with me being here, a separate consciousness with a name and an agenda. Sorry, man. I’m not done stretching my legs quite yet.

  In the blink of an eye, I’m gone, running as fast and as far as my preternaturally strong body can take me. I’ll give Galen back his body—eventually. But first, I have to feed.

  My finger hovers over the Send button as I read the text I’ve written and rewritten to Galen.

  I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t know you were there.

  Is that the truth? Am I sorry? I feel like crap about hurting him, but in truth, we’d broken up—kind of. Can you really break up if you aren’t officially together in the first place? He deserves an apology, though. If I’d seen him playing tonsil hockey with another girl, I’d be gutted. Apologizing is the right thing to do. I send the text, heart in my throat.

  The apartment is quiet in the dark of night. It’s just a little past midnight, and not a creature is stirring. I’m alone—again. Trisha ended up not needing me to give her a ride home after all. She’d found herself a cowboy and was presently planning on a ride of a very different sort. I’m too keyed up to sleep after my non-confrontation with Galen. All I can think about is the look of hurt I’d seen in him. That betrayed, angry, and sad-puppy expression. I don’t know how else to describe the emotions I saw flash over him in just that one fleeting moment.

  Pouring myself a glass of wine, I light some candles in the bathroom and start a bath. This is what I’d planned for my evening originally, and I’m going ahead with it, damn it. Docking my phone on my speaker, I turn on an audiobook and watch the deliciously scented bubbles rise as the bathtub fills. I can almost put myself in the scene of the novel I’m listening to. It hits a little close to home, what with the angst and drama, but it is still a welcome escape.

  As I lie in the hot water, my muscles begin to unclench. I didn’t realize how much tension I’d been carrying. Before long, I’m swept away into a world of soul-shattering love and consequences beyond measure. The narrator’s accent is soothing, lulling me into a state of semi-sleep. I close my eyes and picture the vivid world she’s describing as I let the heat of the bath take away my troubles. Eyelids heavy, my world darkens and I drift away.

  “Jesus, Reese!”

  I’m pulled from the water, my lungs burning as I cough and splutter, bringing much-needed oxygen back into my body. Cool hands pound on my back, stopping only when I finally take a harsh breath. Panic grips my chest as I take in my surroundings. The audiobook is still playing, but my candles have burned low. What the hell happened?

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  Blinking hard, I will myself to focus. Galen is crouched next to me, his clothes soaked, hands running over my body as if to check me for injury.

  “What happened?” I ask, still confused.

  “You must’ve fallen asleep in the bathtub. I don’t know how long you were under the water, but you weren’t breathing when I found you.”

  Something is different about him, I can see it, even in my half-drowned state. He helps me to my feet and looks me over, his expression changing from concerned to aroused. It’s then I realize I’m still completely naked. My ears burn as humiliation rushes over me. It’s one thing to get naked for him on purpose; it’s something completely different to be nude in front of him without mentally preparing myself. I snatch my robe off the back of the door and cover my body as quickly as I can.

  He frowns. “I’ve seen you naked. Why are you bashful now, baby?”

  Baby? He’s never called me that before. His eyes are different. Rather than brown so dark they were almost black, now the irises are a deep gray. I back away, confused and a little nervous.

  “H-how did you get inside?”

  “Your door was unlocked. Thank God.”

  “Why are you here? It’s the middle of the night.”


  A questioning rise of his eyebrows almost has me wondering if I forgot I invited him over, but no. I know I didn’t do anything like that. I apologized. That’s it.

  “You texted me.”

  “Apologizing.”

  He shrugs. “I thought, since you were awake and I was close by, we could talk.”

  Pulling my robe tighter around my curves, I blow out the candles and drain the bath, trying to avoid making eye contact. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  The book is still playing, filling the room with a very descriptive sex scene. Sexual tension sits heavy in the small space as we both remain silent. I flinch at the feel of his fingers as they brush the back of my neck. I will not let my libido control me. I repeat this like a mantra as I collect my wineglass and take my phone off the speaker, silencing the narrator at the peak of the scene. The quiet is stifling. I swear I can hear my heart pounding as I move to walk past him.

  “No,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me against his chest. “I need you.”

  I try to break his hold, but he won’t relent. “Galen, you’re scaring me.” I hate the tightness in my throat.

  His free hand cups the back of my head, and he makes a pained noise as he lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is different somehow. It feels like I’m kissing a stranger.

  “Relax, baby. It’s always so good between us. I’m not going to hurt you. Let me inside you again.”

  I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong about him right now. It’s subtle, kind of like hearing a recording of yourself. It’s just not right.

  Pushing him away, I shake my head. “You said you thought we could talk. Let’s talk. Sex isn’t going to fix things.”

  He smirks. “But it sure is fun. I can smell you right now. You’re wet for me.”

  He’s not wrong, but I’m not giving him the chance to find out. “I’m not,” I lie. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

  Taking his hand, I pull him to the living room. The cool air is a welcome relief from the steam-filled bathroom. My chest still burns from the water, but away from the heavy mist of hot water, I can breathe again. He’s looming behind me, all broody and sexy. I’m torn between frustration and gratitude. He saved my life, but he’s not listening to me. Letting out a heavy sigh, I try to banish memories of his lips on my skin.

  “Wait there. I’ve got to put some clothes on,” I say, avoiding his gaze.

  “I could just take mine off. Then we’ll be even.”

  A jolt runs through me at the thought of him naked. “No. Clothes on, thank you very much.”

  He slips off his shirt, ignoring my request. “My shirt is wet from dragging you out of the tub. I’m not going to sit around and drip all over your couch.”

  I take the damp clothing and toss it in my dryer on the way to my room. As I throw on my least flattering pajamas, I take the time to brush my mess of hair and weave it into a loose braid. Biting my lip, I try to work out what it is about him that’s leaving me feeling wary. It hits me in a flash. His voice. He’s lost his Irish accent completely, instead sounding very middle America.

  A knock at my door makes me jump. “You okay in there, baby?”

  Baby again. He’s acting weird. “Fine!” I call a little too brightly. “Just getting dressed.”

  I open the door to find him leaning against the wall across from my room, his arms crossed over his deliciously bare chest, jeans slung low on his hips. He stares at me with deeply intense and undeniable lust.

  “God, can you just not …” I gesture to him and start walking down the hall.

  “Can I just not, what?”

  “Be so freaking gorgeous.”

  He laughs, sending shivers down my spine. Before I can stop him, his lips are on mine again, tongue begging entrance to my mouth. I can feel his hard cock pressing into my hip, and with a slow roll of his pelvis, he sends me from turned on to ragingly aroused. How does he do this? I’m a sane person. I’ve got buckets of self-control—unless I’m around him. His hands slide under my shirt to palm both breasts, and I let out an involuntary moan. The couch is mere feet away from us, soft and inviting. He backs me up until my knees hit the arm of the sofa and I fall back onto the plush cushions. At this moment, I couldn’t care less about talking. I want him.

  I watch, scissoring my legs to relieve some of the ache between them, as he stares me down. There’s a wild hunger emanating from him.

  “I’m going to fuck you. Are you ready?”

  I can barely manage a nod, so mesmerized by his feral attitude, I’ve forgotten all the reasons I didn’t want to see him. He pops the button on his jeans and slides them down his hips, freeing his erection. Without further prompting, I shimmy out of my pajama bottoms and spread my legs for him. He crawls on top of me, not taking any time to build the tension between us before the blunt head of his cock is pressing inside. I’m insanely aroused, but it’s still a shock. I want him to go slow, let me adjust to his size—he doesn’t. Gaze locked on mine, he hammers into me without mercy. He’s not worried about my pleasure; he’s focused on his. If this is fucking, I don’t like it.

  “Stop,” I whisper.

  He stills for a moment, clearly conflicted. “What did you say?”

  “I said, stop.”

  “You want me,” he insists. “I need you.”

  I’m angry now. I may have let him inside me, but he’s no longer welcome. “You’re treating me like a fuck toy. Get out of my body,” I say, pushing at his big shoulders.

  He does as I say but still hovers over me, his hands now encircling my wrists and hips spreading my legs. He could enter me again with ease and finish what he started if he wanted.

  “I told you I was going to fuck you, baby.”

  “And I’m telling you I don’t want you to anymore. Get off me.”

  His face contorts, and fear slices through me, but he releases me and sits back on his heels, taking his head in his hands. A growl comes from deep in his throat. Tossing his head back as if he’s in pain he opens his mouth in a silent scream. My gut clenches at the sight. Fangs. Two impossibly long and sharp-looking fangs. At my gasp, his eyes lock onto mine. They’re brown again, soulful, pained, and horrified.

  “A ghra, I’m so sorry,” he says. He has the lilting Irish accent again.

  Another roar rips from his throat, and his irises change as I stare at them. What the fuck?

  “Stop fighting me, Galen,” he mutters, the eerie difference in his timbre sending chills through me.

  “Get out of my head!” he screams.

  His hands clench into fists as he stands and takes in deep, shuddering breaths.

  “Galen?” I sound weak and fearful.

  Against my better judgment, I reach a hand out to him. The moment my skin meets his, he’s gone. In the blink of an eye, he’s moved at least twenty feet away. Holy shit.

  “Don’t touch me. He might come back.”

  I feel sick. Either he’s crazy or I am. Maybe I’m having a nightmare.

  “Galen. What is going on?”

  He backs up until he hits the wall and slides down to the floor. “I … I’ve got something to tell you.”

  This is it. This is the last time I’ll ever see Reese. Sariel ruined this—ruined me. He’d forced me to basically rape her only moments earlier. My head is spinning as, even now, he tries to break through.

  Give me what I need, and I’ll leave you be, Galen, he whispers through my thoughts.

  I can’t. He’ll feed on her and leave her sick, or worse, he’ll fill her with his demon spawn. I can’t do that to her. No matter how much I want to be with her.

  I won’t hurt her. I’ll only take what I need.

  Fucking hell. What did Andrea do to me? I don’t know how I’ll be able to cope with a sentient being roaming in my mind, ready to take control at the first show of weakness.

  “Galen?” Reese’s voice is small and trembling.

  For the first time since I regained control, I really look at he
r. She’s so beautiful, even stricken by fear. I want to take her into my arms and comfort her, but then I remember that I am the cause of her distress. I choose not to answer her, dropping my gaze to the deep grooves scratched into the old hardwood floor. How did those get there? I wonder.

  “Galen, what the hell just happened?” She’s more demanding now, impatience lacing her tone.

  The dryer beeps and turns off, breaking the tense silence in the room. Without a word, I stand and walk down the hall, retrieving my shirt and slipping the heated fabric over my head. I look everywhere but at her as I make my way to the front door. It’ll be easiest if I leave without another word. Rip off the bandage and move on.

  No! She’s the only one I can feed from. You can’t do this to me.

  I do my best to ignore Sariel. He may need her, but I can go a very long time without feeding before I completely waste away. It is possible to live without a heart. I’ve done it for nearly one hundred years. I can do it again.

  My hand grasps the doorknob but Reese grips my arm and tugs before I can turn it. “Oh, no you don’t,” she says, making me admire her courage. “You can’t just leave without explaining all the shit that just happened.”

  When I turn, Sariel tests my strength as my arousal begins to build. “I don’t know where to begin,” I admit while fighting the urge to pin her up against the wall. This wasn’t going to be easy, in any form. I’ve never told anyone what I am. I never thought I would need to.

  “Let’s start with the fucking fangs. You definitely didn’t have those the last time we were together.”

  I sigh and let her lead me to the kitchen table. “Yes, I did.” Dropping my head into my hands, I pull at my hair as I work up the courage to tell her the truth. “I’m a vampire.”

  I wait for a moment, peering through my hands to gauge her reaction. Her face remains blank, impassive, and I start to think maybe this will go over better than I’d anticipated. Then she laughs, a hysterical, disbelieving laugh.