Watcher Reborn: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watcher of the Gray Book 3)

by JL Madore

  Danel chewed and swallowed. “I’m of the same mind, Mr. Hennington. She’d definitely be safer—”

  “Don’t,” she said, scowling at Danel across the table. “I have enough trouble standing my ground with my loving, yet neurotically overprotective father. I don’t need my boyfriend siding against me too.”

  Danel set his utensils down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m not siding against you, Ronnie. It’s a plain fact that this house is more defendable than a hotel conference center with over two hundred guests.”

  She waved his words away, stood, and picked up her teacup and saucer. “I’m going. I will stand at my father’s side for the speeches, eat my glazed beef tenderloin, and dance when asked to dance. If you want to stay home, feel free. I’m sure someone there will want to spin the dance floor with me.”

  Danel watched Ronnie’s exit and blinked at the other men at the table. Zander fought a smile, and he, Seth, and Phoenix studied their plates. Howton, however, seemed to be openly enjoying himself at the head of the table.

  He picked up the creamer and poured some in his coffee. “Welcome to my world, Danel. It’s nice that it’s not just me who deals with her stubborn streak. She comes by it honestly, though. Her mother was never a woman to lock horns with.”

  Och, that’s a hot load of hooey, the blonde ghost said. She came through the dining room wall and shook a finger toward her husband. That man wore me down on a regular basis. I, however, was a sweet Georgia peach.

  Zander and his brothers smiled discretely at Ronnie’s mother and Danel offered her a slight nod. “What are the odds I can change her mind?”

  Howton leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Let me know when you’re going to try. I’ll have Aibileen make up some popcorn, so we can all enjoy the show. But for now, you’d be wise to get yourself upstairs, young man. When a woman from the south leaves her gentleman caller in a dramatic huff, he is meant to follow and smooth things over.”

  Allllrighty then. Danel set his napkin down and excused himself from the table. Jogging up the stairs two at a time, he stopped outside Ronnie’s door. He still wasn’t sure what he’d said that was so wrong. She would be safer staying home. He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited.

  “Ronnie? May I come in?” He tried again with the door, knocking sedately, as if he were sane.

  “Ronnie?” The hair on his nape stood on end when nothing came back to him. “Is everything okay?”

  Still nothing.

  Danel’s beast surged inside him and all logic dissolved. He flicked the lock with his will and pushed inside. There, on her freshly made bed, she laid with her eyes closed and her earbuds in. He exhaled a heavy breath and stalked over.

  Man, being in love was an emotional trip.

  He crawled up onto the bed beside her and snuggled her tight to his chest. His tension eased the moment he held her in his embrace. Yep. He really was a goner.

  “Forgive me,” he said, tugging out her earpiece. “It sounded like I was trying to keep you from living life on your own terms, but I’m on your side. Always. I just want to ensure you’re safe.”

  She blinked up at him, her eyes wet and luminous, like a stormy sky darkening before a long rain. “I’m tired, Danel. I’d like to rest before tonight.”

  Cassiane stared at the ginger braid tied off and laying in her palms. She shook her head and the loose ends brushed her face. An oppressive weight had lifted from her shoulders with the cut, but her troubles went deeper than hair. She hadn’t realized how heavy her life had become until Gregor threatened it. Hovering near death forced her to reconsider who she was—in her own eyes, in the eyes of others—and who she wanted to be.

  She was well and truly lost.

  She dropped the braid into the envelope and handed it to Jules. “May someone find good use for it. My father always loved it. I loved it too . . . in another life.”

  But that girl wasn’t who she was any longer.

  Now she was Cassiane, Mistress of the Human Realm Shedim, beloved, mated wife to Kyrian of Thebes, business owner/operator of DonorWatch. But those were abstract titles. Who was she really? There had been so many changes in the past months, her head spun from trying to figure out how she fit into her own life.

  The redheaded waitress from Zander’s club smiled at her in the mirror and adjusted her chair. “So, are we going for sexy, dramatic or sassy, playful?”

  She thought about the moments when she felt the most confident, the strongest, the truest to herself. It was when she was alone with Kyrian or working side by side with Dougal. Those men loved her unconditionally and believed in her beyond all reason.

  “How about sexy and sassy?”

  Jules combed through the back of her hair and started clipping it up in sections. “You got it. The Greek’s not going to know what hit him.”

  Austin caught her forced smile and reached out her hand. “Kyrian adores you. It wouldn’t matter if you shaved yourself bald, he just wants you to be happy.”

  Cassi smiled and stared at herself in the mirror. She’d truly lost her footing. Betrayal of her father, her sister, her people, and other Darkworlders. But she was learning that true family didn’t have to be those related to you at all. Family were those who accepted and supported you, no matter what.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Danel stood ready and steady, blocking the stage stairs. The hotel banquet facility was done up to the nines. All glitz and glamor that he had no use for and didn’t understand. His Spidey-senses tingled like a motherfucker and had been since he’d given up on Ronnie seeing reason. Ever. After a tense but polite car ride, he’d escorted her onto the stage to join her father in welcoming their guests. Were all humans so incredibly stubborn, or just her? Didn’t she realize how fragile she was?

  Or how precious?

  As the applause died down, Ronnie and her father smiled in the direction of the television cameras. “Good evening, friends,” Howton said. “I am honored and humbled to have you all as my guests tonight. For me, this battle is about more than a financial and moral responsibility, it’s personal. This battle is about saving lives. It’s about standing up against powerful injustices to fight for the innocent and less privileged. It’s about my daughters, Clara-Ann and Veronica Rose, and the sons and daughters of families across the country and around the world.”

  Danel tuned out the man’s words as he surveilled the room.

  This was the perfect setting for an assignation attempt, a violent protest . . . or whatever Senator Wringly was desperate enough to try. Maximum impact. Minimum security.

  News coverage was being transmitted across the Human Realm. The tens of thousands of dollars a plate event had been championed by wealthy and elite from society, celebrity, politics, and distant royals. Given the emotional tug of saving dying children, he wasn’t surprised at the red-carpet crowd.

  And the security measures taken were disgustingly lax.

  He cast a glance past the obvious and studied the obscure. If the people out to stop Howton were there, they were savvy enough not to take advantage of the key vantage points. He’d cleared those, and Phoenix and Seth had eliminated them from the game. No. If the enemy was there, they were either part of the event staff or in the crowd, seated in the rows and rows of banquet tables.

  Danel drew a tight breath and sent a plea up the chain of command. Please, Sweet Lady, keep her safe. I beg of you.

  He stared at Miss Veronica Hennington, standing at her father’s side. She stole his breath. Her dress, black and long, probably cost more than the average condo. If it was any more sheer, she couldn’t have crossed state lines without committing a felony. The silky fabric clung, split up the leg to the top of her hip and with every step, gave the world a glimpse of what he considered his own.

  Part of him admired every curve and dip of that landscape. A far greater part of him wanted to cover her up and burn the eyes out of every man there with a heated steel rod.

  “Whoo-ee, Persian,”
Seth said over the comm. “Ronnie all dressed up . . . what a knockout. I’m a walking hard-on over here. Not gonna lie.”

  The growl that rumbled through the earpiece was nothing he could control. Primitive, yes. Territorial, sure. But Danel’s beast weighed in more and more these days and this time, he agreed. “Watch your mouth, Seth. I’m warning you. I’m on a short tether here.”

  His brothers knew that, though. Zander especially. The guy had been cool the past few days and he appreciated it. Funny, when he wasn’t actively hating the Sumerian, he recognized that the guy sympathized with his situation.

  He’d been decent. Supportive even.

  A sudden commotion at one of the tables had him reaching to the small of his back, his heart lodged in his throat.

  “S’all good, D,” Zander said over the comm. “Just a drunk letch getting a facial with a flute of champagne.”

  Howton glanced from the mic and Danel raised his thumb to signal for him to continue. He willed Ronnie to look over too, so he could offer her a smile or a wink, or something to make up for his Neanderthal dickishness over the past hours.

  Nope. She kept her eyes and her smile straight ahead to the room without batting an eye. He guessed he deserved that.

  Ronnie felt the heat of Danel’s gaze on her. His attention warmed her as physically as if his fingers caressed her chilled flesh. He beckoned her to look his way . . . but if she gave in and met his gaze, she’d lose focus. In this room, she was Veronica Hennington, daughter, cystinosis warrior, advocate for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

  Danel only saw Ronnie.

  In some ways, she loved that about him. He was separate from everything she left behind when she moved to Toronto. In other ways, it made her mad. She was more than an ill barista. She held respect in her circles. She was recognized by many as a force of nature. He needed to learn that.

  Seeing her father at a lectern was always a pleasure. Howton Hennington commanded attention. Gracefully powerful. His dynamic baritone, smooth and cultured, allowed each word to caress the ears of his audience. The room was silent, everyone captivated by his consummate oration.

  When he finished his speech, he escorted her to the stairs of the stage. Danel offered his hand and she was once again struck dumb by him. Her father had supplied a simple black tux for Danel and each of his brothers. Man, did those boys clean up good. Security were supposed to fade into the background but that was impossible when they looked that delicious.

  Danel steadied her descent with a simple touch on her bare elbow. Her body responded immediately. The effect he had on her was unnatural. Addictive. He’d spent half the night and hours this morning inside her and she hungered for him as if she’d longed for him for days . . . or maybe weeks.

  His subtle groan intensified the reaction, and just like that, she was damp and aching. “Later,” he whispered. “I’ll make everything right, I swear.”

  His low, rough voice was pure sin and sex.

  She shivered as he pulled out her chair. When she sat, he stroked her arm before retreating three feet to allow the servers to move freely. She wanted him there as her date, to present him as her boyfriend, to eat with him, to spend the evening out with him. Her father had nixed that idea.

  Danel was her bodyguard—her ridiculously overqualified, sinfully sexy bodyguard. She knew he would literally maim or kill to protect her. Still, she wanted him there as a man.

  And, despite what any of them said, she was determined to get him out on the dance floor.

  Get down!

  The shout barely registered before Danel tackled her. A loud crack sounded as she flew out of her seat. She screamed, hitting the marble floor. Danel’s body covered her. Another crack.

  Chairs scraped. People screamed.

  Her lungs couldn’t expand under his considerable weight.

  Can’t breathe . . . too heavy.

  Danel shouted things in another language. She fought for freedom. Struggled beneath him.

  Oh gawd . . . can’t breathe.

  She fought to climb out from under him. Her fingers clawed through something hot and wet on the marble. Danel’s hold grew tighter, his voice harsh in her ears. Her head pounded, blood thrumming in her temples.

  Can’t breathe . . . the world went black.

  Danel rolled to the side and ran frantic hands over Ronnie’s lifeless body. She lay deathly still, unresponsive to his panicked pleas. He smelled the blood, but it wasn’t hers. Nothing marred her dress or her skin. Her pulse was quick and strong. Relief hit him like a tanker truck. He swallowed, and the room’s spin began to slow.

  “Is she hit?” Zander dropped to his knees beside Howton. He grabbed several cloth napkins off the table and pressed them to the hole in the man’s shoulder.

  Danel shook his head. “I think I knocked her out when I took her down. Seth, have we got the shooter?”

  “Three bad guys,” Seth said over the comm. “All down and restrained. Event security have them in custody and have called local law enforcement. You’re good to move.”

  Danel scooped Ronnie into his lap and breathed deep. The scent of Zander’s blood was fresh, and he wondered how many bullets the guy had taken while shielding Howton.

  Ronnie’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Good guys win.”

  She cast a sideways glance and saw her father. Jolting up, she fought off his hold. “Daddy? Are you all right?”

  Zander nodded and eased back. “He’ll be fine. A through and through to the side and a slug lodged in his shoulder. My apologies, they attacked from opposing angles.”

  Howton’s sun-kissed complexion had drained pale beneath the sheen of sweat dampening his brow. He struggled to move and winced. “Things can’t end like this, kitten.”

  “Forget about that for now. How badly does—” Her father struggled to sit up and she pushed him to stay put. “Oh, for goodness sake, stay there and be shot, you stubborn old man.”

  Ronnie forced herself to her feet and listed to the side.

  Danel was under her arm and protesting before he knew what she was doing. He gripped her too tight and she glared at him. “You’ve secured the danger, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then let me do what I need to do or he’s just going to get up and do it himself.” Ronnie straightened and limped toward the stairs of the stage.

  Danel cursed under his breath. “You are both as stubborn as rocks.” He caught up to her on the stairs and pulled her tight to his side. He glared out at the scrambled dining room, hoping his ocular threat of dismemberment and death was translating to anyone who set eyes on her.

  He escorted her across the stage and to the microphone.

  “I guess we had a few gentlemen upset with the tenderloin.” Ronnie straightened at the lectern, her hands trembling as she pressed them flat on the wooden podium.

  “It’s all right, folks. Security has things well in hand and emergency services are on the way. Please resume your seats and in true, southern style, we’ll have a stiff drink while we await the arrival of the authorities. Raise your hand if you need any medical attention and we’ll get someone right over to you.”

  The room blinked up like the flock of dazed sheep they were. They seemed to question the tiny woman standing center stage as a target, but there she was.

  “Nobody can say a Hennington party is dull. In fact, this isn’t even the craziest thing that’s happened to us this week.” The guests managed a chuckle. “Seriously. Daddy stirred up a nest of hornets by tackling this one. And I, for one, couldn’t be prouder of him.”

  Zander lifted Howton off the floor and set him back into his chair. The man raised his arm and waved to the guests, showing them, he was alive and fighting.

  “Howton Hennington has a big enough bank account that the practices of big money industries and pharmaceutical companies would never keep me from the medications and supplies I need. He didn’t have to take on this fig
ht. It would have been simpler and safer to let things run their course, but that’s not him.”

  She lifted her chin, her voice stronger. Steadier.

  “Medications for a fair price isn’t unreasonable. Sure, there are costs. Research, manufacturing, packaging, shipping, and probably a bunch of others along the way. No one is saying meds should be free. But beyond a reasonable mark-up for profit, medication pricing should reflect a true value. That’s fair. That’s humane. And that’s what we’re fighting to ensure. Don’t allow violence to detract from what’s important. In fact, let the fear and anger you’re feeling right now fuel your commitment to this battle.”

  The double doors at the back of the room opened and police and EMS stepped inside. Ronnie waved them in and pointed to her father sitting at the front.

  “Lives or money, friends, which do you value more?”

  Zander hugged Austin tight to his chest and buried his face in her hair. Her scent was etched into his memory, that subtle blend of her feminine essence mixed with lemongrass shampoo and the lavender soap she used. Still, his memory never quite captured the way holding her, body to body, eased his soul and centered him. Somehow, she wielded the power to weaken and strengthen him at the same time.

  “I missed you,” he said, his gaze sliding over her.

  Austin pressed her lips against his neck and sighed as if she’d been holding her breath since they’d been apart. “I missed you too, angelman.”

  She shifted to his hip and walked him into the loft. Stetson thumped his tail against the hardwood, awaiting his invitation to join them. Austin’s path headed into the living room, but he squeezed her shoulder and redirected her down the hall toward their private chambers.

  “Fiend,” she giggled.

  “Always.” He kissed her silky, chestnut hair. With a snap of his fingers, the chocolate bundle of energy bounded along behind them like a wrecking ball. Zander patted Stetson’s head as he pressed against his leg. “I know it was only a few days, but it ate me up to be away from you, cowgirl.”