Watcher Divided: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 4) Read online

  Please, let it be any one of them besides Seth.

  The odds were in his favor, seven to one. Except, Kyrian and Zander were on dragon duty, Hark was in Atlanta helping out the garrison there, and Bo and Brennus were on the streets. Danel hit the hay early with Ronnie before meeting up with Colt, so that left Ringo.

  The weight of the footsteps thundering down the corridor eliminated the gangly teen, and he cursed under his breath.

  This was going to get ugly.

  Phoenix shrugged into his gun holster and pulled on his weapons vest. Crazy as it was, his weapons acted as a security blanket. He felt vulnerable without them. With candle smoke still in the air from dousing the pentacle points, there was no hiding what he’d been doing down here.

  He was well and truly busted.

  Seth rounded the corner, and his eyes widened. “What the fuck? I knew you were up to something when you refused to come to the bar with me again.”

  Phoenix rolled his eyes and spoke cranium to cranium. After the ease of speaking in the heavens, it seemed such a burden to sign. There’s nothing written in any of the Otherworld laws that states we need to get laid every night. Maybe I wanted to chill and didn’t want the fight.

  “First off, there is—have you never heard the term ‘use it or lose it’? Yeah, no, I don’t think so. Secondly, you’re not sucking back beers and watching manga porn down here; you went for a field trip to the Choir. What’s this about?”

  I did a private favor for a friend. No biggie.

  “What friend? What favor?”

  Do you understand the concept of private?

  His brother scanned the seven-foot, multi-colored pentacle on the back wall and the golden candles still in place. “Why are you speaking to the Powers? Is this about Ringo or Danel? Are they in some kind of trouble with their sire?”

  Phoenix sighed. There was no stonewalling Seth. The guy was a pit bull when things came to a head. Rayvn asked me to check something out for Andrew. The kid’s struggling.

  “No shit. What kind of help can a Darkworld Dragon get from the Choir?”

  That’s what I was finding out.

  “And what did you find out.”

  Not my story to tell. I’ve got this.

  “Uh-huh, I’m sure you do. That’s why you’re sneaking off behind my back. Did you think I’d buy your bullshit about staying home to help Austin around the house? Zander lives to do shit for her.”

  Let it go.

  Seth snorted. “Not fucking likely. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Rayvn myself. The Darkworlder might be a hardass, but he doesn’t mince words.”

  Yep. This was going to suck. Fine, but you’re not going to like it.

  “No shit. Why else would you sneak around? Spill it.”

  Ray needs help tamping down Andrew’s dark power until he gains control. He wanted to find someone who has that kind of magical strength, but didn’t know where to look. He asked if I could do him a solid.

  “A dark witch? You’re going to visit a fucking Priestess and kept that from me? Me—the one person who knows how screwed up and dangerous that is for you?”

  I’m not visiting one—I’m finding one. Now, I give the info to Rayvn and wash my hands of the whole sitch.

  “If that’s where we’re at, then good. Let’s go give him his answers. I’ll drive. I don’t want you anywhere near one of those bitches after what happened to you last time.”

  Phoenix shook his head. I’m a big boy. I came to terms with things long ago. I’ve got this.

  “Bullshit. Getting fucked over by our mother doesn’t vanish, no matter how much time passes. And addictions don’t dry up and blow away. If they did, people wouldn’t relapse. I won’t let you open that wound.”

  I’m not going to relapse and, it seems, you’re just as angry and fucked up over the bitch’s betrayal as I am.

  “Potato-tomato,” he said, slicing a hand through the air. “So, have you got the deets Ray needs?”

  I think so, yeah.

  He nodded, his jaw locked and hard as granite. “Good then, relay the info and tap out. The dragon can hunt down his own prey from now on. Since when do we work for Darkworlders?”

  Phoenix heard the fear in Seth’s voice and regretted putting the guy through this again. As nearly immortal warriors of the heavens, fear wasn’t something they experienced often, and therefore wasn’t something they handled well.

  Their days with mommy-dearest were nothing either one of them wanted to revisit. The only balm to that wound was that the bitch was dead and had been for two thousand years.

  I’ll take care of it, brother mine, I swear. I’m out. S’all good.

  Zander handed Rayvn and Kyrian each a beer and collapsed onto a lounge chair. The seat beneath him creaked in protest, but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. Over the past few weeks, the entertainment area on the roof of his club had become an after-hours triage, the three of them using the space to patch up their injuries and heal before facing their wives.

  Kyrian sat with his head back, and eyes closed. “I’m too tired to lift my arm to my mouth. Any chance one of you assholes could come pour liquid sedation down my throat?”

  “Not on your life, Greek,” Rayvn said. “Too busy bleeding over here.”

  Zander managed to open one heavy lid and eye the dragon. “You need to trim your boy’s claws, dragon. You’re lucky he caught your thigh and not your guts. It would be a shit-ton harder to stick your intestines back in place, and I ain’t in the mood to help with a puzzle.”

  Rayvn chuckled. “And to think Jules says you have a way with words. You’re one hell of a charmer, Sumerian.”

  The three of them laid like that, sprawled in heaps of cuts, contusions, and burns, for longer than he cared to think about. Things were getting worse. There was no way they would be able to keep this up and survive much longer.

  Zander felt the current in the air change and sensed the familiar energy as one of his brothers materialized among them. He let his head loll to the side, his cranium weighing as much as a ten-pound bowling ball. He eyed the warrior taking form and sent a prayer to the heavens. “Tell me you come bearing good news. Please, we need a goddamn win.”

  Phoenix gave them a thumbs-up and started relaying his message.

  “Slow down, my brother,” Kyrian said. “It’s hard to read what you’re saying when there’s three of you.”

  Kyrian’s wonky vision was due to an unlucky tail swipe to the head. It was a wonder the three of them got the kid delivered home before they collapsed.

  Phoenix repositioned himself and started again.

  “What’s he saying?” Rayvn asked.

  Zander forced himself to sit up and winced. The burns on his hands had stop blistering but still hurt like hell. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he didn’t have the healing regeneration that his genetics offered. “There’s a gathering of Dark Priestesses, and they’re not far. He thinks the one to target is the High Priestess of Lily Dale. She’s the witch running the show.”

  Ray tried to sit up and listed to the side. “I owe you one—all of you. There’s no way I could have handled this without you. I’ll leave it at first light.”

  Zander managed to get the rim of his beer bottle to his lips and sucked back half its contents. “You’re not going anywhere, dragon. Andrew’s transition advances every day. There’s no way we can handle things if you’re three hours away. You can’t fly home in daylight if shit hits.”

  “Fine, I’ll go tonight and put a rush on it. Odds are Andrew will be out for at least eight to ten hours.”

  Zander emptied his beer and cursed when he reached to set the bottle on the step of the hot tub. “It’s not like you can walk in and ask them to create a binding amulet. Darkworlder or not, they’ll never open up to you right off the mark.”

  Rayvn frowned. “There’s no time to become besties and create fucking Kumbaya moments. It’s a simple transaction of services rendered. I’ll pay whatever they want.” br />
  Phoenix let off a soft whistle and started signing.

  Zander translated for the group. “The woman in charge owns a string of fancy-assed hotels and is old world. She won’t trust a stranger from outside the sect. She doesn’t need money, and there’s no way to influence her with spells or magic. She’ll have wards set against that.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Kyrian asked.

  “We need a way in,” Zander said.

  Phoenix nodded. Leave it with me for the night. I’ll do some recon and figure out our best way in.

  Zander relayed the message and let his head fall back, so he was staring at the stars. “All right. Let me know what you find in the morning, and we’ll go from there. Good luck.”

  Storme jogged down the marble-tiled corridor, the steady click-clack of her designer heels beating out an angry rhythm. She left the area of the hotel’s private meeting rooms, blew through the through the west wing, and burst through the fire door to the contained courtyard. Why Cleo thought it was a good idea to ask the Council for anything was a mystery to her.

  Standing in the quiet of one a.m., she tilted her head to the night sky and let the growing magic of the blood moon soothe her. The lunar eclipse was still a couple of nights off, but the magic of the event was building. The power of the changing moon cycle was palpable in the night air.

  She drew a cleansing breath and purred.

  The July breeze lifted her short, black hair and brought her the succulence of salmon, with a brown sugar and mustard glaze. Her stomach growled, hunger getting the better of her—figuratively and literally. She didn’t think as clearly when hungry as she did when her tummy was full.

  That’s all she needed. She’d polish off a late-night snack and then set things right and apologize for any embarrassment she caused her partner.

  With a discrete swipe beneath her eyes, she brushed away the tears which slipped through her defenses. As an adopted ward, the Priestess Council branded her as an outsider. Add that to the fact that none of her premonitions were pleasant and, yeah, that didn’t win her any friends within the clan covens.

  Why had she hoped they’d accept her? Why had she cared?

  She might not be eligible to join the ranks of the women in that room, but she was Storme-freaking-Queen. She ran an international chain of private hotels and spent more on shoes some months than most people paid in rent.

  Cleo said people could only make you feel small if you give them that power. That’s what she’d done.

  She inhaled another breath of the salmon scent and smiled.

  Shrugging off the momentary stumble, she did what she always did when she felt out of sorts—she turned her worries into action. If malevolence was coming for that which Cleo coveted most, it was after Queen Hotels.

  No way would anyone destroy what they’d built. She would dig her claws in and rip anyone to shreds who tried.

  Danel rolled out of bed and lit the ivory pillar candle on the dresser altar. As the three wicks burned bright, the glow of the flame danced across Ronnie’s sleeping face. He stood there, absorbing how the gold of the flames highlighted the copper and auburn of his wife’s hair. Man, she was a stunner.

  And she was his.

  Neanderthal that he was, he and the barbaric beast that raged within him loved that she belonged to him. Forever. It was still too new to believe it down to the cold steel of his bones, but he was trying to wrap his head around it.

  And he was good for her too.

  There was no doubt in his mind that she grew stronger every day. If him making love to his wife was the price to pay to keep her healthy and in his life, he was the happiest male in the three realms. Dedicated to his task.

  Deciding he couldn’t stand there all night, he tore his gaze away and closed his eyes. Lady Divinity, I beg you. Watch over her this night and always. She is my heart. My breath. My very soul. Thank you for the gift of her love. Now and evermore.

  He brushed a gentle touch over her hair and let an auburn curl wrap itself around his finger. How did Zander and Kyrian tear themselves away from their mates?

  It was like ripping his heart from his chest.

  He sighed. Such was the life of servitude.

  Stepping into the hall, he eased the door closed and tripped over a giant, fur mound. “Geez, Stetson,” he said, throwing out his arm. Fuck—wrong arm. He banged his stump on the drywall and threw out his left hand to catch himself. “Do you always have to be underfoot?”

  “Sorry,” Austin called from down the hall. “My fault.”

  Danel closed his eyes and reined in his anger. It wasn’t the dog’s fault he’d lost his hand. It wasn’t Austin’s fault he wasn’t watching where he was going. He followed her voice to the walk-in closet at the end of the hall. Among the shelves of silk sheets, towels the size of Texas, and spare pillows, Zander’s wife stood, frowning.

  “What are you doing up?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night, cowgirl.”

  The woman was beautiful, even with her long strands of chestnut hair falling out of her ponytail and with no makeup. “The baby and I don’t sleep until Zander’s home. Might as well make ourselves useful.”

  “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  She flashed him a smile that warmed him all the way to his toes. “I was organizing the votive candles, and Stetson jumped up and knocked the boxes out of my hand.”

  He knelt and started resorting the colored cylinders into their boxes. Austin didn’t need help often, but there were times that, despite her independence, the fact she was blind kept her from being a one-woman show.

  He eyed the bandana-wrapped stump at the end of his right wrist. In the past months, he’d grown to understand what it meant to be hindered by physical restriction. Not that Austin ever considered herself restricted.

  He admired her outlook on things.

  It was far more productive than his instinct to dive into a bottle and bask in liquid sedation.

  “Everything all right, Danel?”

  He blinked. “Yeah, sorry, s’all good. Hey, what did you need the candles for?”

  “Phoenix took the box of yellow votives down to the chapel, and I thought I’d better organize and inventory a bit. Stetson seemed to have other ideas.”

  Yellow votives? Danel knew what that meant and didn’t like it one bit. He set the last of the refilled boxes into her open palms. “These are white. These are blue.”

  He watched as she felt for the open spots on the shelf and slipped the candle boxes into her sorting system once again.

  “You good if I leave you to it? I’ve gotta run.”

  “Are you meeting up with Colt?”

  “Yeah. The cop’s off at two, and we’re hitting the range.”

  “Don’t let me keep you. And be safe. There are people who love you and want you to come home.”

  The warmth in her gaze made him feel like a shit. BR—Before Ronnie—he failed to see the woman for her race. He’d been an ass. An angry, stupid ass. But this was his new reality.

  WR—with Ronnie.

  He met Austin’s gaze and let her see the man he was becoming. “Thanks again for making Ronnie and I welcome here. Your and Zander’s support has meant the world to us.”

  She winked. “Y’all belong here with us. Now go on. Didn’t you say you needed to hit the road?”

  Danel left Austin with her guide dog and headed down the sweeping staircase. Before he met up with Colt, he wanted to check in with Phoenix. Yellow candles meant only one thing.

  As he descended to the main floor, the elaborate inlay below took his breath away. At the base of the Gone With The Wind staircase was a stunning depiction of the traditional Nephilim emblem. Damn, his little brother was insanely talented.

  As he hit the base of the stairs, the security settings on the front door let off a beep and signaled the arrival of—

  “Phoenix,” he said. “I was coming to look for you.”

  His brother raised his hands. Cool
. I came to ask you a favor. I need your researching skills with something time-sensitive.

  Danel pointed toward the living room and pulled out his phone. “Done deal. Let me call the cop and tell him he’s off duty tonight. Then I’m all yours.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dawn was closing in by the time Kyrian stepped through the double doors of Hotel California. The abandoned speakeasy he’d secured for his wife and her followers was desperately fighting the transition into the twenty-first century. The renovations seemed endless. For every job they completed, he’d swear two more suddenly appeared. He felt like Tom Hanks in Money Pit, but he had to admit the place was starting to come together.

  As much as he’d like for the two of them to live at the racetrack with Zander and Austin, it was important for Cassi to be near her people—especially this soon after their transition from living in the Hell Realm.

  Yeah, leaving everything you’d known and believed your whole life was tough. No wonder his mate was having trouble finding herself. She would, he had no doubt, because she was as smart, compassionate, and capable as any person he’d ever known. All she needed was time.

  Luckily, with his immortal lifespan and the life expectancy of a Shedim, they had plenty of that.

  The elevator chime croaked like a strangled bullfrog and signaled his arrival to the top floor. When the doors whooshed open, there she was. In baby blue silk jammies and her ginger hair braided to the side, she stole a bit more of his heart every time he laid eyes on her.

  “Welcome home, warrior.”

  He cupped her chin and pulled her against his mouth for a kiss. Gently, he explored her mood with that simple meeting of their lips. He brushed his hand down the column of her neck, her skin soft against his tender palms. He tasted the mixture of cinnamon and apple on her lips, and his hunger grew.

  Not, however, for an evening snack.

  She was gorgeous. Mouthwateringly so. And she was his.

  Eventually, Cassi sighed and pulled back. She studied his face, tracing the line of his brow and frowning. “A rough night, love? Is the child still struggling?”