Watcher Redeemed: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 2)

by JL Madore

  The knowing smile that curved her lips almost made him blush. Almost.

  The splendor of the bathroom echoed the resplendence of the suite as a whole. He had to laugh at the white, claw-footed, Jacuzzi tub. Funny, he lived through the Renaissance and he didn’t remember there being electronic control panels and hydrotherapy options. Not exactly in keeping with the architecture of the building, but he wasn’t going to tell.

  After testing the water to make sure the temperature was right, he set her on the smooth turned edge of the tub and made quick work of her night shirt. Lowering her into the milky water was bitter-sweet. He loved the way the water caressed the gentle swells of her breasts where they disappeared below the surface but hated that this was his first look at her naked beauty.

  With both their sexual encounters being frantic moments to simply satisfy an uncontrollable hunger, they’d never taken their time together. He sighed and sent a promise up to the heavens. If given the chance, he’d rectify that oversight and be the lover she deserved.

  With her reclining against the high back of the tub, he placed a rolled-up towel behind her head and positioned her slender arms along the sides, so she wouldn’t slip down. Sabine was right. Cassi’s cheeks were filling out again and with the warmth of the room, they were actually flirting with a bit of color.

  Thank you, Lady Divinity. I am forever in your debt.

  After unbuttoning his shirt and setting it on the bathroom counter, he knelt beside the tub and picked up a delicate soap and a washcloth. Inch by sensuous inch, he cleaned her arms, her shoulders, her neck, and her chest. The instant he stopped with the stroking, she began to thrash. “Shh, baby, don’t panic. S’all good. Everything’s all right.”

  He knew what she needed and resumed running his hands over her skin.

  She stilled and opened her eyes. “Kyrian?” Her voice was weak and hoarse, but to him, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. She reached for him, but faltered, her hand splashing into the water.

  He lifted her hand and pressed his cheek into her palm. “Yes sweetheart.”

  She smiled as her lashes drifted closed. “I thought maybe I was in delirium.”

  “I’m here.” His fingers brushed under her chin and across her lips. “And Dougal and Sabine haven’t left your side. They’re good people, those two.”

  She blinked and tried again to swallow. “Could I get a drink, please?”

  He was at the door in two long strides but paused and looked back over his shoulder. The idea of leaving her, even if only to go to the next room, tightened his chest to the point of stealing his breath.

  She stared back at him, drowsy and somber. She saw his hesitation and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to pass out and drown while you’re gone.”

  While heavy steps quieted down the length of the corridor, Cassiane closed her eyes. As usual, Kyrian’s closeness brought forth a cyclone of images and thoughts spinning wildly in her mind. She inhaled, luxuriating in the honey and lavender scent of her milk bath mixed with the manly scent of Kyrian. She thanked the Sweet Prince for his mercies. To be alive was more than she expected. To be alive with Kyrian stroking her like a lover, was beyond surreal.

  She didn’t remember much about the days of her illness. The whole cold, gray fog of her mind was a giant jumble of pain, angst, and the sense of being drawn away from shore in an ever-strengthening outward tide. She remembered when the tides changed. The taste of Kyrian’s blood, so rich and powerful, had reached through her exhaustion as the warmth of his touch echoed to the marrow of her bones.

  His heated gaze flickered over her face from the doorway. He held a tumbler in each of his hands. “Alcoholic or non?”

  “Both. I’m dying of thirst over here.”

  Kyrian winced.

  “A poor choice of words.”

  He shook his head and gave her the juice glass first. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’m getting sick of hearing myself talk.”

  She gulped down the juice and waited while the sweet chill followed its path all the way to her uneasy stomach. She held her hand out for the wine. She couldn’t imagine being sick of hearing his voice. The deep baritone, with the proud, slightly European lilt, resonated through all her most feminine parts. It made her wanton. It made her want to curl around him like a blanket. She lifted the wine to her mouth and swished it in her mouth before swallowing.

  “How long has it been since I brushed my teeth? It feels like a hell hound crawled in my mouth and died.”

  He laughed and took the empty juice glass to the vanity. She watched his muscles flex and release as he moved. That first night, the sight of his assassin’s mark had enraged her, sickened her. She still hated what it stood for, but looking at it now, she could see the artistic beauty she’d overlooked before. It brought on a whole new range of emotion.

  He really was quite delicious.

  Kyrian leaned against the marble countertop and tilted his head with a sultry smile. “I find you quite edible as well.”

  No. Had she spoken aloud? The heat of her embarrassment infuriated her. Bending her knees, she slid under the surface of her water, using the guise of washing her hair to escape. When she resurfaced, she dropped her head back and smoothed her hair. “Could you pass me that emerald bottle please?”

  He retrieved her shampoo from the open shelf at the foot of the tub but didn’t hand it to her. Instead, he opened the stopper and poured a dollop into his palm. “I was looking forward to washing your hair . . . if you don’t mind.”

  She cleared her throat and closed her eyes again. “Ah, no . . . that would be lovely.”

  Kyrian’s fingers massaged her scalp and laced through the length of her hair. The sensation of his skin against hers never failed to steal her breath. “It’s a gorgeous color. True cinnamon, with a touch of red and, if you look closely enough, a few amber highlights.”

  Her chest swelled that he’d taken notice, very few did.

  “You’re surprised that I picked up on that?”

  She scowled. “My father always said—”

  Her words hung in the air between them. Searching his face, she saw the flash of sadness and regret. He turned away and picked the empty glass off the counter. Settling behind her, he sat her forward and began rinsing her hair. “Go on, tell me what he always said.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

  He tilted her face back and kissed her forehead before draining the glass over her hair and refilling it. “The man is between us, whether we speak of him or not. I’d like to hear about the father you knew. What did he always say to you?”

  She closed her eyes, truly conflicted, but didn’t have the strength to filter through her tangled thoughts. “You mentioned noticing my surprise. It rang familiar.” The trickle of water tracing the contours of her bare back paused. “My father always said I have a glass face. Everything I feel or think is written clearly in my expression, if someone knew how to read it.”

  “And you’re surprised I can?”

  She shrugged. “You are a well-trained warrior. I expect it is part of your skill set—”

  He straightened and moved to the vanity. With his hands braced on the counter, his head dropped forward. His broad shoulders blocked her vision of his face in the mirror, and she felt robbed by the loss. “It’s not my training, and you know it.”

  His voice growled deeper than usual, his tone sharp.

  After a long silence, he raised his head and stared at her. His features were tight, frustration flaring in his pale green eyes. “Damn it, Cassi, you gotta stop thinking the worst of me. I read you, not because I’m a Watcher assassin, but because we’re connected. You feel that, don’t you?”

  Yes. She blinked, her lips threatening to quiver. “We aren’t. We can’t be.”

  “Why? Because we’re from opposite sides? Newsflash, sweetheart, we’re not the first star-crossed lovers to take the stage. And it’s not like you can get rid of me. Deny it all you want, but you
r body needs me as much as mine hungers for you. It demands my blood, or you die.”

  Cassi’s breath locked in her chest as she fought every instinct raging inside her. “But we can’t be. Do you know what it would do to my people—what they would think of me?”

  “Take your people and my brothers and everyone else out of the equation. We’re talking about you and me.”

  “There is no you and me. I am Mistress of this castle, leader of Shedim. I live to ensure the future of my species. What do you think they will do if I get involved with . . . with a—”

  “A filthy Watcher assassin?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He gripped the edge of the counter as if holding himself in place. “But you thought it. Remember, I can read your face.”

  The hopelessness in it all washed over her, and what little energy she’d woken with drained completely. Unable to fight, she covered her face with her hands and wept.

  Kyrian cursed softly and knelt beside the tub. “Look, Cassi, the last thing I want is to make you cry. Let’s get you tucked back into bed, and we’ll talk more after you’ve rested.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded.

  Kyrian reached to pull the plug but she caught his arm. The idea of the water slurping down the drain, leaving her exposed to him, was too much. “Sabine will help me dry off and dress.”

  Hurt flashed in his eyes as he dropped his gaze. He turned away, picked up his shirt, and headed for the door. “Of course, I’ll get her for you.”

  Kyrian hated this. After sending Sabine to tend to Cassi, he found himself with too many thoughts, his beast too restless, and no one to kill for distraction. He was caught between heaven and hell. Cassi trusting him to wash her gorgeous hair and silk-covered curves . . . transformative. Reining in the desire barreling through his body so he didn’t overwhelm her . . . excruciating. How had Zander done it? No wonder the guy had lost control. He’d watched Zander flail during the first days and weeks Austin entered their lives, but it was so much worse, up close and personal.

  Cassiane didn’t want him there, didn’t seem to want to work for this match up at all. No doubt, if his blood wasn’t the only nourishment her body would accept, he wouldn’t be there now.

  Needing distance from his mate while she was naked in the bathroom, he wandered the halls of the Shedim royal wing. The place stood a ridiculous oxymoron—a Renaissance palace in Hell. Really? Despite the elegance of their digs, Shedim were a nasty species to deal with. Had been since the beginning.

  Portraits cluttered the hall, on both sides. It was hard to imagine demons having family and friends, but he’d long accepted there was good in the Darkworld and bad in the Lightworld, and vice-versa. He wanted to believe that was the case here too.

  He paused in front of a large, gilded mirror and stared at his Mark. How many Shedim had he beheaded and burned in twenty-five hundred years? How much of the ink covering his body stemmed from him killing Cassi’s ancestors and friends?

  He ran a finger over the back of his left arm and turned to see the fretwork. Her father had been a tough soul to take. The malevolent darkness within Stryker, Master Shedim, had been a boon to his physical strength, but a heavy taint for his beast to absorb.

  He doubted that man had much of a hand in raising Cassi. And thank the heavens for that. She was nothing like him. Where he was angry and irrational, she was even-tempered. Where he was narcissistic, she thought endlessly of her people. Where he spewed venom and hatred, she was gentile and sweet.

  Well, not saccharine sweet. She had poisoned him and had him beaten to a pulp. She’d also ordered Austin’s death. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He pulled out his phone and pulled up her number.

  “Hey there,” she said, on the second ring. “How’s Cassi? Are you all right?”

  He stepped into the study and sat at the desk. “Cassi’s better. I’m a hot mess. Have you got time to talk?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Devious watched Thrash as she and her mother led the Dimme soldiers through morning drills. The Queen, Xamia, amazed him. She was as merciless with training as she was beautiful. With expectations high and her tolerance for weakness a brutal show of vivisecting the last man to complete the maneuvers, the males had a focus he truly admired.

  No wonder she had caught Stryker’s eye.

  “Stop eye-fucking my mother,” Thrash said, a sharp punch landing squarely in his gut.

  “I was admiring her discipline, not envisioning her naked. But now that you bring it up . . ..”

  He was ready for the next strike.

  As Thrash spun to backhand him, he caught her wrist and pulled her behind a wide wooden target. Pinning her against the makeshift wall, he forced her hands over her head and held them with one, rough hand. “Punish me when we’re naked, that’s fine, but don’t try it in front of soldiers. You’ll regret it.”

  She struggled against his hold, her breasts heaving against his chest as she huffed with indignation. When that failed, she head-butted him in the nose.

  As tears sprung to his eyes from the hit, he gave her credit. She was one tough, sexy bitch.

  With his free hand, he worked her khakis to her knees and stomped them to the ground with his boot. Once her legs swung loose, he sprung his cock free. A quick stroke through her heat and he was home. She dug her heels into the back of his thighs and her teeth snapped the lobe of his ear. She’d nicked him, but he’d escaped serious bloodshed.

  “The more you squirm, the longer I’ll take, and the more likely we’ll be discovered.”

  “My dog lasts longer than you. You’ll cream yourself and be deflating before Mother has the men breaking a sweat.”

  He nailed her hard against the wood and hoped she’d gotten a few slivers in her ass. “Is that how you talk to the man who possesses the weapons you need to succeed in this rebellion?”

  She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh as her inner muscles milked his pounding rhythm. “My sister possesses the demon steel. Why Stryker left them within that castle, I’ll never know.”

  Devious laughed against the column of her neck and his fangs dropped. “Stryker may have left them there, but that’s not where they are now. Trust me, I’m ten moves ahead, in a game your sister doesn’t even realize she’s playing.”

  Thrash gasped as he sank his teeth into her neck.

  She thought she held the upper hand with him, but he took what he wanted from her without apology. He would secure her place as Shedim Master and, in turn, he would take his place of power. In the meantime, he looked forward to teaching her who was really in charge.

  Kyrian ended the call and opened his photo gallery. Selecting the newest set of images, he thumbed across the screen. Ringo had snapped a few candids of him and Austin at the racetrack during their horseback ride. She was even more radiant than usual in these, whether from the pregnancy, the thrill of getting back on a horse, having him home safe, or just their new little brother’s artistic eye. He couldn’t be sure.

  And in each one, he looked happy.

  That outing was the first time in months he’d truly forgotten about the world around him and his messed-up life. He touched the screen and sighed. If only he could capture that feeling.

  “Am I interrupting?” Cassi asked from the doorway.

  Kyrian grabbed his shirt from where he’d tossed it on the desk and shrugged it onto his shoulders. “I just checked in with the home front. S’all good.”

  “With the Sumerian’s wife?”

  He finished with the last of the buttons and strode over to greet her. Her damp hair, brushed out, hung almost to her waist. It accented the navy, silk robe she wore over a clean, ivory babydoll nightie. Yep, she pretty much struck him stupid.

  “You love her.”

  He blinked, jarred from thoughts of when Cassi would be well enough for him and his beast to ravish her. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She held out her hand and offered a sad smile. “Do you
mind if I see?”

  He hesitated. Part of him minded very much. Cassi tried to have Austin killed, tried to eliminate the one true source of happiness he and his brother had been blessed with in their entire, miserable, lonely existence.

  She dropped her hand and stroked the silk tie to her robe. “I see. I suppose I deserve that.”

  Shit. “Cassi, it’s just . . . you weren’t there when your father killed Austin. It gutted me. It destroyed Zander. And then you tried to have her killed as well. I want to trust you—I do—but Austin is precious to us.”

  “A precious human.” Her tone highlighted just how little she understood about anything beyond these castle walls. She turned and started back up the hall.

  He pocketed his phone and followed. Denying her smacked of betrayal—especially after the past hours of praying for a chance to share his life with her—but he had Austin to protect too. And the baby. “Austin is more than her species, Cassi. Like you are. Like I am.”

  Her teeth snapped together as her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Then don’t let me keep you. I’m over the starvation. Go back to your pet.”

  Kyrian stalked behind her, lured by the scent of both fear and fury. His beast paced within him, a predator tracking its prey. The hem of that little nightie brushed the back of her alabaster thighs. Her silk robe glistened as the sheen stretched over the rounds of her perfect ass. And her legs—yeah, he could split the front of his jeans just watching her catwalk strut.

  But where his beast wanted her body, Kyrian wanted her heart. He knew the difference between what he felt for Austin and what he felt for Cassi. He just didn’t know what to share with her to get her to trust him . . . or even look at him. “I admit I love her, but I’m not in love with her, if that’s what you think.”

  He may have gotten confused on that for a bit, but his head was straight now. It wasn’t Austin that he’d longed for. It was everything she represented: a mate, a confidant, a lover . . . his own happily ever after.