Watcher Redeemed

by JL Madore

  “Come now, darling,” her father said, gesturing to the tunnel leading further into the cave. “Let’s get ready for our guests and have some fun.”

  Cassiane watched as Devious set the camera on a ledge inside the inner chamber and helped two other hunters bind the unconscious human’s wrist. They hung her from the cave ceiling, just as Kyrian had told her.

  Next, her father used his knife and cut away her top. Bare to the waist and strung up, he slit her wrists and opened her veins. “The bar is open, boys. Anyone want a taste of the Nephilim Commander’s pussy.”

  The laughter and jeering made Cassiane sick. Her father would never do this. He followed the directives to the letter. He had been slain without cause. Devious told her. Devious—

  Zandros appeared in the cave entrance. His lips parted as he scanned the bloody curves of the woman. The utter devastation in his face convinced her this wasn’t false. No male could look that ruined if he wasn’t truly living the horror of that moment.

  A fight broke out and though Zandros staggered unsteady, his second-in-command stepped in. Cassiane’s breath caught as she watched Kyrian expire two males in a flurry of fist and steel. When the two fell, her father raised a hand, and everyone paused.

  “Sumerian, I’m glad you could join us.” Stryker stepped around Austin’s body. His yellow gaze reflected the lantern light and locked on Zander. With a cruel smirk curving the corners of his mouth, he leaned close to Zander’s woman and dragged his tongue up her bloody ribs. He moaned as he swallowed and licked his smeared lips.

  The video stopped and Cassiane sank to her seat.

  When the Dark Prince stepped around the table, he met Zander, face-to-face. “As entertaining as that was, Zandros, what’s your point.”

  Zandros straightened, the muscle in the side of his chiseled jaw twitching. “The point is, that you’ve got children going rouge. They come after Nephilim in a dark alley, that’s one thing. Bring it. But they kidnapped a Cherub from my club—a known safe zone—and then, Austin, an innocent human. And after she recovered from them feeding on her, Devious here shot her and Kyrian in a shopping mall full of humans. Exposure, my friend. Very careless.”

  The Dark Prince shrugged, but his shoulders were stone stiff. “Am I supposed to care?”

  “Not really. Just remember that they declared war. Stryker killed Tanek and Austin. Then his daughter—the ginger, not the blonde—violated the tenet of secrecy and ordered another go at us. If bodies start falling like acid rain, you know why.”

  Cassiane almost choked. If what Zandros presented was truth, she had no cause to retaliate. No right to torture and incarcerate a member of the Watch. She had condemned her people to death.

  Zandros circled the table in long powerful strides, his wings flaring out like an ebony screen. After meeting the gaze of each of the leaders present, he spoke. “Many of you know me and my men. Nephilim have fought for Dark Ones, as well as against, for centuries. We aren’t your enemy by birth, but rather by your own actions, and even then, we try to show mercy.”

  Cassiane and several others scoffed at that.

  Zander scowled. “Gregor, did Danel not spare your son and his friends a few months, back after he collected three college girls and brought them back to your nest?”

  Gregor nodded and swept his hand through the air. “He did at that, S-s-s-umerian.”

  He pointed to the Ice Demon. “And Remington, my squad works in partnership with your brother, Colt, to make sure Darkworlders stay under the radar of human laws, don’t we?”

  The Ice Demon nodded. “You do.”

  The Dark Prince exhaled. “Wrap this up, I’ve got a life.”

  “The gist is this. If your children fuck with my female again, or target one of us or ours, no laws and no duty will stop us from gutting the lot of them. The swath of death we’ll cut will be the stuff of Darkworld nightmares, e’ermore.”

  The Dark Prince bristled. “If you’re threatening me, Watcher, it won’t bode well for you or your woman.”

  Zander dipped his chin. “No threat to you, my Lord. I am ever your humble servant. But for those in your charge who think to target us for doing our sworn duty—all bets are off. I just pray that this insurgence ends soon, or there will be hell to pay. Quite literally.”

  Zander materialized on the rooftop of the club, his squad right behind him. For the first time in weeks, they had a win. As he opened the door and started down the stairs into the loft, he called back over his shoulder. “Did you boys read that room the same way I did?”

  Seth piped up, the Egyptian’s voice echoing in the stairwell. “That Stryker’s debutant heiress was pretty much pissing in her crinolines? I’d bet my left nut she thought we were there to take her down for Kyrian’s abduction.”

  Zander opened the door to the foyer, and the procession moved through the dining room and into the living room. “Anyone want to argue with Seth’s left one?”

  Brennus took a long pull on his cigar and exhaled. “Ye put on a good show, Z. The leaders ken we mean business and with the Dark Prince warned, ye’ve given us the upper hand again.”

  “Yeah, Scarlet O’Hara is in way over her pretty, little head,” Seth said, grabbing two pool cues and tossing one over to his brother. “Lucky you pulled her back when the Dimme tried to hork on her. She was all deer in the headlights.”

  “Aye,” Brennus laughed, “that was classy.”

  “The horking or the saving?” Seth asked. The cue ball rocketed across the felt and cracked the racked setup on the far end of the table.

  “Both,” Kyrian said, dipping his chin in a nod. “If you boys’ll excuse me, I think I’ll lay down for a bit before patrol.”

  Zander scrubbed a hand over his jaw and watched the Greek head down the corridor. His brother was too quiet, his heart just not in it. Whatever happened in that Shedim dungeon was still ringing his bell hard. Normally, they’d shoot the shit and hash it out. Yeah, that was before he’d fucked things up and alienated the guy.

  “Zander, what do you think?” Seth called, sinking the 8-ball and tossing his cue to Brennus for the next round. “Is Devious tapping just Emma or doing the mother-daughter combo?”

  “I honestly couldn’t care less. I’m going to go spend a couple hours with Austin in my room and never think about that again.” Zander headed toward the corridor and reached into the pocket of his jeans for his ringing phone. “Yeah, Collin, whassup, buddy?”

  “We . . . uh, have a bit of a situation down here, Z.”

  Zander raised a hand to quell the ruckus of his men. “What kind of situation? Do you need backup?”

  The rocking beat of the club pounded in the background. “No, nothing like that. Your underage Asian kid is naked and swinging his junior junk in one of the cages. He’s becoming a bit of a club mascot down here. Not sure how you want to handle it, or how extensive you want his education to become.”

  “Has Jules seen him? She’ll slap his ass red.”

  “She’s in the ladies’ loo with a lightweight Lightworlder.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way down.” Zander thanked his lucky stars that his head waitress was oblivious, and headed for the door. “C’mon boys, road trip to the club. You won’t wanna miss this.”

  Cassiane closed her eyes, the chaos around her drowning out all reason. Devious had spared no time, once returning from Purgatory, to incite fear and rally the soldiers to ready for a fight. The men were panicked to protect their families. The women and children panicked to lose them under the guise of Nephilim justice.

  “The Watcher’s escape will bring down the wrath of a Nephilim death squad,” Devious shouted from the execution platform still set up at the back of the courtyard. “We need a leader who understands our enemy, a leader with experience in dealing with the dangers and violence of the real world.”

  Cassiane pressed a hand against her stomach, the blood-infused wine the Dark Prince had provided sloshing in her belly. “The Watch might very well be assembling an
offensive, but don’t point the finger at me. You and Stryker killed their brother, and captured and tortured the Sumerian’s wife. Zandros never once mentioned Kyrian’s capture. He’s angry about what you two did. Acts which you lied about and kept from me.”

  Arms crossed, Devious’ hulking frame jostled with amusement. “Stryker knew you couldn’t handle the ugliness of battle. You deal with castle upkeep and ailing children. You have no understanding of the measures needed to exact change for the betterment of Darkworlders.”

  “And are things better?” she said, looking over the frightened crowd. “Stryker is dead. Zandros and his men want us dead. And here we sit, not knowing when or how they might choose to strike.”

  “They wouldn’t know where to strike if you hadn’t brought the Greek to our fucking door.” The grumbling of male assent made her nauseous.

  “Enough!” She raised her hands and silence fell over the courtyard. “If Kyrian of Thebes wishes to press for justice, I shall accept the consequence. Until that moment arises, the miners will continue to mine, the hunters will continue to hunt, and the soldiers and their sons will continue to make repairs on the castle.”

  Devious glared, a mottled redness creeping up his neck. “Your father would be readying an offensive stance.”

  “And I am not my father.”

  “Clearly,” Devious said. “And that will be our downfall.”

  The crack of lightning signaled the coming of night. The men dispersed, and the onlookers retreated indoors. Cassiane split away from the crowd and retired to the only section of the castle where no one bothered her. It had been her grandfather who established the family floor of the east wing. It seemed ridiculous now, but even hundred years ago there had actually been enough family to inhabit the rooms in this section of the castle. Now . . . there was just her.

  With knees and hands trembling, she made her way through the suite, to the hearth of the fireplace to stir the coals. After resurrecting the crackle and snap, she eased onto the narrow velvet settee to lay down. Her stomach twisted in knots and she felt retched. Perhaps after a rest, her nerves would settle . . .

  She eyed the pewter bowl and reached it just as her stomach upended. Blinking past her watery eyes and the throbbing in her head, she made her way to the washroom. After Gran’s favorite bowl was emptied and washed, she headed toward her chamber. Her private sanctuary.

  She had run her fingers along every inch of the heavy wood paneling in the corridors, remembered the sounds of her mother’s soft steps on the intricate stone floors, and could still smell a faint hint of her grandfather’s tobacco in the colored draperies and tapestries. She knew the stories behind each of the portraits hanging in the great room and had read almost every book in the library.

  And then there was the study.

  She rested a hand on the closed door to her father’s private space and stared at the crystal knob. Eleven weeks. Seventy-seven days since her father closed this door, kissed her cheek, and headed off to the Human Realm. To renegotiate the feeding accords, he’d claimed. To express our displeasure with the accord restrictions and assert our position once and for all.

  But instead of pen, he’d taken knives. Instead of ink, he’d spilled blood.

  In doing so, he’d accomplished nothing but the one thing she never thought possible. He’d let her down. And not once. He’d lied about the accords. He’d killed innocents to construct vile Nephilim weapons. He’d hidden a sister he considered a capable warrior, worthy of a hunter’s name. He’d chosen that Dimme half-breed, and shared his plans and his time in the Human Realm with her.

  Her chest ached until she had to open her mouth to breathe.

  After swiping away her tears, she threw the door open and slapped on the lights. It should have been a relief to know. She had wanted answers more than revenge. She’d wanted to know what went wrong with her father’s plans . . . and now she did.

  He’d declared war on the Nephilim and been slain for his actions.

  Clueless and unprepared, she was left to clean up the mess.

  Crumpling into her father’s desk chair, she stared at the game in progress on the chess board in the corner. Stryker had been a master strategist—a true king. She was the queen, but felt far more like a pawn being pushed from square to square. Everyone around her played the game better than her, more cunning and ruthless.

  She removed the Crystalline dagger from the brass stand on the desk. As she tipped it in the light, she watched the heavenly blue liquid in the chamber slide end to end. Seraph blood and holy water, if tales were true—a lethal combination for Darkworlders. She studied her father’s trophy for taking a warrior’s life.

  The Dark Prince seemed genuinely saddened by the loss of Kyrian’s brother, Tanek.

  Her tears fell harder as she remembered the emotionless gaze he’d offered her just hours ago. The hunger that had been there was lost, the fire snuffed. She’d done that. She’d seen the betrayal in his eyes when he stared up at her from the ground of the courtyard. “Do you honestly think I would hurt her? A precious child?”

  She had. She’d acted on instinct and regretted it. When he’d broken away from her with such purpose and launched himself at Lyssa, all she’d seen was a Watcher assassin grabbing one of her charges. The sword was in her hand and aimed before her mind caught up with the reality of the situation.

  “My entire existence is dedicated to protecting the innocent.” That man had a voice that either tore at her insides or melted her resolve. He was far more honorable than she, as it turned out. He protected innocent humans from illegal hunting and would be forced to kill her if he knew of their plans for the upcoming harvest. He was duty bound and so was she.

  No matter how distasteful the arrangement, Stryker and Devious had secured a way to feed her people.

  What sort of monster had she become? Sobbing, Cassiane turned the point of the dagger against her chest. She caught sight herself in the mirror across the room. She couldn’t live this way. It felt like her insides were shredding apart. As she stared into her own golden eyes, she buckled forward and blood spewed from her mouth.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kyrian stripped naked, downed the quarter bottle of Jack from his cabinet, and grabbed an untouched bottle of Goose as a chaser. Quite the routine he’d been rocking the past weeks: patrol the streets with his brothers, sweep evil under the rug, lock himself into his room and get faced. And repeat. Every. Damn. Night. How long would this mating drive last before it started to ease the fuck off?

  Locked and loaded, he headed to the shower. With each bare footfall across his plush carpet, he tightened his inner workings up and locked his emotions down. He tipped back the bottle and started the water. What an idiot he was.

  For the briefest moment, he’d actually bought into the happily ever after bullshit Austin and Zander had. He’d fallen in love with love. The way the two of them interacted, yeah, he’d wanted that for himself. The way Z stroked her hair as they stood together, the guy’s hand moving across the chestnut silk as if he didn’t even notice what he was doing. And she’d look up at him with those hazel eyes, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His brother had been blessed to be paired with a sweet and sexy stunner.

  Annnd the Heavens matched him with—Cassiane—bitch queen of Shedim.

  Fucking hell. And also, fucking Hell.

  Stepping under the stream of water, he tilted his head back and let the sluice of hot and steamy run through his hair, down his back and over his ass.

  For the first time in his existence, he was truly mind-fucked.

  Emotions. Lady Divinity’s little matchmaking experiment had stirred things up inside him. He’d had feelings before, sure. He loved his brothers, cared for his friends, even empathized with members of the Otherworld, but he and his beast had never been conflicted.

  Moving the bar of Ivory over his pecs, he got his froth on and let those slick hands do their thing.

  His mind flipped back to that night
in the Shedim courtyard. The look in her eyes, as she ordered the executioner to get the job done, ripped his guts to shreds. It really did. Like a fool, he’d convinced himself she’d never be able to kill him. Then again, she was her father’s daughter. He didn’t want to remember her like that. He didn’t want to remember her at all. But he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  Unbidden, his beast stretched within him, luxuriating in the heat of their first meeting. Sure, she’d been baiting a trap, but homicidal intentions aside, their pairing had taken his breath away. Whether they regretted it or not, they’d both been lost in it. Insane with the wanting. Every moan and thrust and scent in that washroom was etched in his memory. She’d been timid—which surprised him, given how aggressive she’d been at the bar—but once their mouths got acquainted, she’d opened up.

  He groaned as his cock surged. Yeah, the taste of her burned through his blood like a drug. And after only one touch, he was addicted.

  He took his time shampooing, letting the rush of those memories mingle with the reality of who she really was. Cassiane. When her hair caught the light at a certain angle it was the warmest cinnamon he could imagine.

  Sweeping his palm down his torso, a moan rumbled out of his chest. His erection kicked in his hand and he drew a deep breath. He arched his back and repeated the slow tug. Shit that felt good. He played back the sensation of his fingers stroking Cassia’s heat and settled into a rhythm.

  The scent of her skin.

  The gasps she made as he touched her.

  The clench and release of her orgasm gripping his fingers.

  His head dropped back as his own release hit. He stroked hard, riding it out, remembering every detail. The pleasure was short-lived, though, and left him feeling both guilty and skeevy. And though his lonely lighthouse keeper was standing tall and ready for round two, he shut off the water, and—

  “Sire?”

  Kyrian spun around, his feet squeaking on the granite tiles. “Silver. What . . . why are you here?” He snapped a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his hips. The terry barrier did nothing to disguise the hi-how-are-ya going on under his towel, but for the sake of his Seraph visitor, it was better than nothing.