by JL Madore
Copyright © 2018 by JL Madore
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
JL Madore
www.jlmadore.com
Cover Design: Fiona Jayde Media
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Note: The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Watcher Redeemed/ JL Madore -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-7752332-0-6
Dedication:
To you: the fans who read these pages and love these warriors as much as I do. They aren’t perfect, but they live by a code and deserve a happily ever after—however that looks to them.
To Allen: the man who inspires all my love stories. Love at first sight is real and we prove that every day.
Note to readers: This is Book 2 in the series. If you’d like to start from the beginning and get to know the men of the garrison: click here
CHAPTER ONE
Kyrian sidestepped a clothing rack, giving a wide berth to two half-naked women as they grappled and swung. Screeching at a decibel beyond imagination, their altercation seemed to be focused on the last Cat Woman costume in size four and the Superhero Halloween party of the century tomorrow night. The blonde salesgirl—ironically dressed as a naughty cop—tried to hold them apart, while her brunette Pocha-hottie co-worker muttered into her walkie for help.
Cue two muscle-heads in stretched black tee’s striding in to break up the fun.
Amusing as a catfight would normally be, the influx of testosterone and hostility made Kyrian itch. He slid beyond the drama and followed the short corridor to the close quarters of the boutique’s private dressing area.
From the back, the mass of hulking male acting as a blockade could have been either of the Egyptian twins. The absence of a spiked dog-collar gave it away. Kyrian drew a deep breath, hoped for the best and steeled himself for the worst. “Seth. How’s things, my brother?”
“Greek.” Seth offered up his tattooed fist for a bump and shifted to unblock the entry. “Same ole. Cleaning up on the streets and in the sheets. You? How’s the clinic and that Lightworlder doc of yours?”
Kyrian shrugged. Stepping into the ten-by-ten mirrored sitting area, he positioned himself to watch the doorway and the corridor beyond. “Clinic’s almost operational. Drina’s a rock star. She’s got mean skills.”
Seth’s cool smile morphed into a slow, sly grin he’d seen all too often. Horny motherfucker. “I hear that.”
Really? Was there anyone in the three realms Seth and his twin hadn’t sampled—jointly or one-on-one. Kyrian rubbed a hand across his jaw and exhaled. “At least tell me you treated her well. It was just you, right? Seth?”
Seth chuckled and waggled his brows. “Consenting adults, Greek. S’all good. And trust me, you don’t need the details.” Seth resumed his position in front of the access hallway, his bulk sucking the walls of the space in close and the ceiling down tight. His brother-in-arms wasn’t one of those bulging ’roid-droid types. Seth and his twin were massive warriors who fed, fought, and fucked like machines.
Kyrian met his gaze and tried to read his mood. “You don’t seem surprised to see me. We good?”
“Us? Always.” As he scrubbed his fingertips against his dark, buzzcut hair, his jacket shifted, and the butt of his Glock made a quick appearance. He had his double holster on, so the matching piece would be under the other arm of his trench. Kyrian approved; the guy was guarding precious cargo. “And no, I’m not surprised she insisted on a shopping trip today. She misses you fierce, and a mall crawl is the one place Zander would never follow.”
Kyrian leaned forward and lowered his voice. “So, how is Z? How’s his control?”
Seth locked eyes on the fitting room door and frowned. “With her . . . perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’ll be about to go Candu reactor over something, and she’ll lay her palm on his chest and you can actually feel the energy in the air settle. With everyone else . . . well, let’s say we’re all giving him space.”
Kyrian knew about giving Zander’s dark side space. After Austin’s resurrection from the dead, she’d lain unconscious for three days. During those uncertain seventy-two hours, Zander lost himself to the full force of his transformation. He’d ripped into the Shedim Master responsible for the attack; violated and tortured the bastard, like one of the vile scum they were bred to fight against. He never imagined Zander capable of crossing that line. Still couldn’t believe it.
With all traces of duty and honor lost, reasoning with Zander had been impossible. Kyrian had stepped in to save his brother’s soul. Zander, however, didn’t see it that way.
“She in there?”
Seth nodded. “If you’ve got our girl, I’ll go check out the squawk-and-scuffle and give you two some privacy.”
“Thanks, my man. And Seth . . .” His brother glanced back over his shoulder and Kyrian was struck by how much he’d missed the wisecracking pain in the ass. “I swear I won’t jam you up with Zander. If he finds out, I’ll fall on the blade.”
Seth waved away Kyrian’s concern. “S’all good, Greek. S’all good.”
Alone in the boxy sitting area, Kyrian shifted for a better defensive position and scanned the mirrored walls of the room. The way they were angled reflected twenty little white platform stages, twenty pansy-assed velveteen sofas, and twenty ash-blond Greeks that hadn’t slept in waaay too long. He leaned forward, giving the hollows under his cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes a dispassionate once over. Man, those bags reflected back at him gave his face a hard-ass edge.
He slid his fingers down the front of his new Balmain military jacket and released the silver epaulets from their moorings. The two halves of his jacket hung open. It would be the work of a split second to reach his twin SIG forty’s tucked snug at the small of his back. And if needed, he had another dozen weapons concealed in inside pockets, depending on what type of Daemon or evil had the balls to slither into his path.
He rapped a knuckle on the buttercream colored door. “How you doing in there, sweetheart?”
“Kyrian!” Austin’s silky southern drawl pegged him square in the chest. The door flung open and she latched around him. Silky mahogany hair brushed his cheek and a wave of coconut shampoo filled his senses. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
He needed to loosen the cage of their embrace before his scent was all over her. He willed his arms to release her or his legs to take a step back, but that was a big no-go. He was rooted in place, right where he nee
ded to be. His fingers clenched her hair, and he pulled her closer. For the first time in two months, he drew a full, deep breath. “So, how’s married life?”
“Can we sit?”
He guided Austin toward the loveseat opposite the mirrored walls and helped her settle. Being blind didn’t slow her down any, and even less now that she saw members of the Otherworld. The positioning of the couch compromised his line-of-sight to the entrance a little, but he sat on her left, so his dagger hand was free to defend, if need be.
Austin proceeded to fill him in on everything he’d missed at the loft. After fighting within his squad for the past millennia, two months of exile was negligible. Honestly, he didn’t care what Daemon drama they’d faced since Zander had taken him off rotation. Serpentine. Poltergeist. Wraith. None of it held his interest. At least not in that moment.
He let her talk and drank in every word.
The smooth southern cadence and her never-ending smile warmed him within. Damn. Only a bastard fixated on a woman married to his brother. Zander and Austin were in love. And he wouldn’t change that for all the longing in his pitifully empty life. Whatever.
This thing he felt for her was what it was—and he had no idea what that was.
Over the course of the next half hour, the two salesgirls poked their heads in to check on them, like expectant prairie dogs. When it was obvious Austin wouldn’t be hurried or interrupted, they retreated to the chaos of their ‘End of Summer’ sale up front, looking like they needed a little liquid sedative and some TLC after closing.
He sighed. They weren’t the only ones. After a couple of hours out with Austin, he was going to be raw and only too happy to join them in smoothing away the rough edges of the day. He might even pop back and take them up on that. Once Austin was safely back in the loft with her husband, of course.
“So, what do you think?” Austin stepped onto the little platform stage and struck a pose, so that twenty Austins sporting wrist-biting, ice-blue, goddess costumes reflected back at him. The sheer fabric cut low enough up front to make a monk stand at attention and high enough along her silky thighs to barely cover her hoohaw—as she called it.
“You are utterly delicious, sweetheart,” he swallowed, “but Zander will be homicidal the entire night if you wear that. Killing club clientele is bad for business. I think a full-length gown would be better.”
Austin swept her chestnut hair up into a chignon and pivoted like a runway model. “Such a den mother, Kyrian. I invited you shopping so I wouldn’t end up being covered stem to stern. If Zander gets his way, I’ll be a nun or a mummy or something.”
He laughed. She had Z pegged.
She dropped her hair and it cascaded down her back. He watched as it caught the halogen lights twinkling from all angles. She tilted her head to the side and turned her hazel gaze on him. “It’s my first theme night at the club. I want to turn heads. Besides, if I wear a full-length gown, nobody will see my gladiator heels.”
He scanned the long line of her legs and shook his head. Gold leather straps wrapped up from four-inch heels to tie just below her knee. “I lived through the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, cowgirl, and no gladiator ever wore heels like that.”
“Too tough to maneuver the sand of the Colosseum?”
“And too much hair on their legs to pull it off.”
She giggled. “Fortunately, there’s no sand on the dance floor of the club and I shaved my legs this morning. I’m good.”
Scratching the nape of his neck, he knew this ship was sinking. “Austin, you realize Z is going to have an aneurysm when he sees you wearing this, right? Blood will be spilled.”
The glimmer in her eyes told him she was counting on it.
“Yee-fucking-haw, Austin,” Seth choked, stepping back into the change area. “We’re buying that one too, right?”
She smiled and sauntered back into the fitting room. “Thanks, Seth, and yes. Can you settle up? I’m wore out, and don’t want Zander riled because we’re out in the big, bad world too long.”
“As you wish, milady.” Seth grabbed the costume and the gold, strappy shoes as she opened the door a crack and handed them out.
Kyrian passed over a Lady Zorro costume with leather thigh-high boots and a naughty nurse costume with a stethoscope that was laying on the arm of the sofa.
“Oh, and Seth?” she said, peeking out the door. “Could you grab a full-length goddess costume too? No way is Zander letting me out of the loft in any of the others.”
Seth nodded and left to take care of things.
Kyrian laughed and checked himself in the mirror. “Okay, you had me going for a minute. I honestly thought you meant to wear those to the party at the club.”
Her laughter rang strong, and the sweet chime expanded in his tight chest, filling his lungs.
“Hey, sweetie?” She stepped out of the change room in worn jeans and a cotton, peasant blouse. She swung her purse over her shoulder and pretty much knocked him stupid. “We’re picking up Thai takeout on the way home. I’m crazy hungry. Any chance you might come back with us for dinner?”
Kyrian’s bubble burst. “Sorry, sweetheart. Drina’s waiting at the clinic—”
She narrowed her gaze and pointed a manicured finger at his chest. “You two must think I’m dumber than dirt. I don’t buy all this clinic malarkey. I know y’all think you’re protecting me, but you will never fix what’s broken by avoiding each other. Grab hold of those reins, big boy, and come home.”
As they headed out to the main part of the store, he tucked her in close. “Give it time, sweetheart. I’m fine at the clinic until Zander’s emotions settle.”
“A racetrack is not a home. I spent fifteen years practically living in horse stalls, and I know. Your home is at the loft.”
“Not right now, it isn’t. But don’t worry, s’all good.”
Austin sighed. “I’ll keep at him. I’m sure if—”
He squeezed her to his side and kissed her cheek. She smelled like Z. The male was all over her skin. “Let it be, cowgirl. Zander’s adjusting to a lot and his beast is stubborn as hell. He’ll come around, and in the meantime, all you have to do is decide which costume he’s going to rip off you first. You’re about to make Zander a very happy man.”
Austin pretended not to notice the tightness in Kyrian’s usually charming smile. He and Zander played a good game. They spoke cordially when folks were watching, but she knew her husband’s second in command as well as she knew Zander.
Best friends were like that.
Something had knocked their relationship off the trail when she was kidnapped and killed by Stryker. Neither would speak of those horrible days—none of the warriors, actually—but she understood why. Zander almost killed himself drawing her back from the dead. And Danel was hurt so badly he would likely never fight again.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Kyrian asked.
She nodded and accepted the bags to keep Seth and Kyrian’s hands-free for weapons. With a hold on Kyrian’s elbow, they escorted her from the costume boutique out into the wide expanse of the Eaton Centre. The concrete and glass surfaces of the massive mall caused the sounds to bounce around from all angles. The noise disoriented her a bit. She preferred to walk on her own with Stetson to guide her but Zander thought it easier for his men to whisk her to safety without a ninety-pound chocolate lab getting into the mix.
She loved the Eaton Centre. They hated it.
Kyrian was a shopping man-whore, and Seth was usually up for anything, but the security issues with sight lines in a place made mostly of glass made her bodyguards as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room of rocking chairs. Actually, they were Nephilim warriors in a world full of demons, but the metaphor remained the same.
She glanced up to where skylights arched six storeys above their heads. The sun’s light warmed her face as she imagined the flock of sculpted Canada geese that hung suspended in flight beneath the slate blue October sky. Kyrian had described it to her in detail the da
y he hid her from the Archangels. Zander risked everything so they could be together.
Only, she thought they’d all be together.
She drew a deep breath and tried not to tear up. Zander’s magic mojo had given her back more than her life . . . it had given her him and his men. They were her life now. And ever since Lady Divinity blessed their union, she’d been able to see them. Not in the traditional sense of sight, but she could see the auras and colors of the Otherworld around her.
It was a kaleidoscope of silhouettes and colors and, in the case of Zander, Kyrian, and the others, she could see them fully. Their massive outlines, their muscle-bound warrior frames, and their Watchers’ marks—the ornate tattoo record of the demon souls they claimed and carried within them. They were terrifyingly beautiful.
As the mechanical hiss signaled the arrival of the glass elevator, Kyrian’s palm left the small of her back and Seth shielded their entry. She heard the human shoppers shuffle behind them, and moved to enter. Kyrian stood at his full height and breadth to block their entrance. Though the mall crowd started to complain, whatever expression he threw their way stopped all objections.
Confident, powerful, and as alpha as her Sumerian husband, the olive-skinned Greek was a credit to the warrior training he’d received millennia ago. Not as massive as Seth and Phoenix’s pro-wrestler physiques, Kyrian was lithe, wickedly sexy, and intimidated everyone.
Well, everyone except her and Zander.
When the doors hissed shut, the elevator began its descent. Kyrian shifted and joined Seth in blocking her from the glass walls of the elevator. The pair scanned the flurry of shoppers below, muttering observations of humans and Otherworlders flitting and filling the atrium below. Mothers with strollers sat along the edge of the fountain, and shoppers laden down with bags rode up and down the escalators in a life-sized game of Chutes and Ladders.
The humans couldn’t see that those were Daemons among them, but they could. The Seraph blood running in Nephilim veins allowed them to see past the enchantments that disguised the identities of both Dark and Light. And now, she could see those things too. Things she’d never known back when she’d lived life as an oblivious human. Things she sometimes wished she couldn’t see now.