Watcher Compelled: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 6) Read online

  “Congrats to you both,” he said, sidling up to get a closer look at the baby boy. Zander had briefed him this afternoon about the boy’s silver swirling eyes and how the Djinn Master and his sister assured them it was a perfectly natural and safe side-effect of Zane’s powers. “He’s a looker, like his mother,” Bo said, winking at Thea. “And smells like his father.”

  Seth gave him a screwed-up face but then bent down and sniffed the kid. “Okay, I’ll concede that he stinks, but that was ruuuude.”

  Thea shook her head. “I changed him to come down to dinner two minutes ago. I swear he waits until after I get things all cleaned up and then does that on purpose.”

  Seth laughed, entranced by his boy. “Uncle Bo and I have got this, angel. You take a load off with the ladies. We’ll be right back.”

  Bo followed the Egyptian past the dining room and into the corner of the great room baby center.

  “Step back a pace for your own safety, Viking,” Seth said, positioning the wipes and readying to pull the tabs. “Zane is mightier than he looks. I don’t want to ruin your appetite for your welcome home supper.”

  Bo chuckled and shifted to a safe distance. “I thought Tex-Mex night might be a lucky coincidence.”

  “With our cowgirl, there are no coincidences. Tex-Mex for you. Caramel Crème Brule for dessert for the Celt.” Seth finished with the toxic cleanup, sealed the offending weapon, and dropped it into the genie.

  Right. There’d be no avoiding Brennus at a family dinner. Guess he had to pull up his big boy pants and get over things sooner rather than later.

  “I give you props, my man. You’re as good with a diaper as you are with a dagger. You’ve been practicing.”

  Seth wrapped his son in the flannel receiving blanket and presented him two-handed like a prized offering. “He and Thea are the absolute most precious things in my life, Viking. To love him and his mother is everything.”

  Bo accepted the newest Nephilim and cradled him against his chest. “Hello, nephew. When you’re old enough, I will teach you and Nio how to read runes, and stars, and how to sail the oceans blue. Maybe we’ll even make our own boat. Would you like that?”

  “Cooleroo,” Seth said, following tight to Bo’s shoulder as the three of them returned to the dining room. “Until then, maybe you can read him a story once in a while? Thea has an aunts and uncles schedule posted on Zane’s nursery door. She plans to ensure he grows up hearing the voices of the people who love him.”

  Bo nodded. “It would be my greatest honor.”

  Jhaia, second born to the royal house of Djinn, first sister to the Djinn Master, checked the French ormolu clock perched over the fireplace and frowned. It would be unforgivable to arrive late at the Nephilim cottage. She and Thea had grown to enjoy their tea parties a great deal, but she didn’t want to cast a shadow of disrespect by not being punctual. If Layne didn’t arrive shortly, her sister wouldn’t be joining them.

  “I don’t know why it surprises you. Layne does what Layne wants. No consideration for others or obligations. Regardless of commitment or expectations.”

  Gheil wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wasn’t entirely correct either. “Taid’s death has worn on her. She’s carrying a great deal of pain and anger. We must take that into account.”

  “You were the boy’s mother, not her.” He drew a long inhale from the nozzle of his hookah pipe and exhaled the sweet-smelling smoke. “You need to stop pampering her.”

  “Fighting over little ole me?” Layne said, jogging in from the side entrance that led to her private suite. From her green-tipped ebony hair to her choice of tank tops and skin-tight jeans, to the runes and spells she had tattooed on her inner arms, Layne stood out in their world.

  Gheil argued that those things were chosen and her own doing. Jhaia wondered how much was chosen and how much was simply her crying out for them to acknowledge she had her own identity.

  “I’m glad you’re here. It’s past time to go. Shall we?”

  Layne grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “You never said where this ladies’ outing was taking us. I’m hoping for male strippers. Am I close?”

  Gheil blew out a gust of smoke and shook his head. “Why do you even try, Jhaia? I genuinely do not understand.”

  But Jhaia did understand.

  For twelve glorious years, she had the privilege of being a mother. She understood tantrums and acting out and defiance in the face of independence.

  Layne was a beautiful, powerful, strong-willed female and needed to know they respected her for her own ideas.

  “Have a blessed evening, my brother,” she said, bowing her head as she gathered her purse. “Come, sister. You’ll see our destination when it reveals itself.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Bo pulled the Navigator against the curb on Garrard, just east of Jarvis. Bending over the steering wheel, he peered through the windshield and checked out the shiny new sign for the Queen Hotel head office. With the grand opening weeks away, Storme and her Toronto staff had the new home base for the chain of boutique hotels looking every bit as quaint and exclusive as the ones in New York and Paris.

  Good for her. He expected nothing less from Phoenix’s beloved wildcat.

  With rush hour long over, he could park on the street. He turned off his headlights and locked things up. The bite of the wind attacked the moment he opened the truck door. He cursed in three languages, his mood more a condition of his post-purgatory state of chaffing than anything else.

  Ready to get back to the grind and eager for things to get back to normal, he ignored the annoying remnants of his hangover from Hell and headed inside.

  Directly opposite the iron and stained-glass doors, a well-tailored young man sat behind a sleek black reception desk. Huh, he felt as if he were being punked by déjà vu. In the report Phoenix submitted about his breakdown in New York, he mentioned a young Channing Tatum running the front desk.

  The Egyptian wasn’t wrong.

  “Good evening,” Bo said, running through the report in his mind, searching for the name of the man from Lily Dale. “You wouldn’t be Jack, would you?”

  The young man looked up from the business he tended to on his desk and smiled. Wide-eyed, he gave Bo an appreciative once-over. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Bo chuckled at the guy’s reaction and admitted that might have sounded weird. He didn’t know he was part of a Nephilim mission report, so why would Bo know him at all.

  “Sorry, that came out wrong. My friends, Phoenix and Brennus, mentioned that you helped them out back in New York. I was just awkwardly putting two-and-two together.”

  “Brennus? The Scotsman with the braid and the sass?”

  The widening of Jack’s pupils and the spicy flare of attraction would have done the Celt’s ego good. Maybe not tonight, as his brother likely suffered from the same aversion as he to physical pleasures after their exhausting stint of sexual misconduct.

  “Yeah, that’s him. I’m sure you’ll see him around here soon enough. We all live together.”

  “With all you strong, soldierly men, it must be a very large house.”

  “Yes, it is.” Storme made her way into the reception area, her blush-pink pantsuit bringing out the rich mocha of her skin. Her heels clacked on the blue terrazzo tiles in an even and powerful beat. She handed Bo her coat and set her briefcase on the signing surface of the chrome-topped desk.

  He did the honors of helping her into her coat, and she reclaimed her bag. “I’m coming in for noon tomorrow, Jack. There’s nothing much to do until the afternoon, so shift your schedule to start in the afternoon. Sound good?”

  The guy nodded. “I’ll be here. Thank you, Miss Queen.”

  She headed for the entrance and waved over her shoulder. When they were through the door, she pulled her collar up and turned from the wind. “Phoenix texted me that you’d be picking me up tonight. I’m sorry he bothered you. I’m quite capable of calling Uber and getting myself home.”

  Bo poin
ted the key fob at the street and unlocked the truck. “Nonsense. I’m on light duty tonight and this is more fun than working out alone in the gym. Besides, I owe you a special and very personal thanks after soaking in your bath salts a good part of the afternoon. Not to put too fine a point on it but, the kindness was well received.”

  He opened the door and helped her in before rounding the hood and climbing in himself.

  Storme clicked her seatbelt and chuckled. “I’m glad. Phoenix said you and Brennus took one for the team and would be terribly sore and out of sorts when you got back. I was happy to help.”

  When the motor rumbled to life, Bo checked that the way was clear and pulled out into light evening traffic. He didn’t ask if Phoenix said anything beyond that. It was understood amongst the lot of them that some things were not shared, even with the lady loves of the household, and in this case—especially not with them.

  “So, your boy Jack is helping you get set up?”

  “Mhmm,” she said, checking her phone and tapping out a text. “And I’m grateful. I adore him, and I couldn’t ask for a better first impression for the hotel.”

  Bo saw the allure. Women would swoon and a good majority of the men would too. Turning the next right, he blinked as the headlights from the car behind them momentarily blinded them. “Well, it’s nice for you to have a friendly face to count on, I’m sure.”

  He switched into the right lane. The car behind them changed lanes as well. “The work with Cassi and providing sustenance to the Darkworlders, I hear that’s going well.”

  “Yeah. DonorWatch has hosted drop-in nights at five of the Queen Hotels around the world. It’s genius. Cassi has a sharp business mind.”

  “Coming from you, Miss Queen, that’s high praise.”

  He hung a quick right without putting on his turn signal and that car stayed right on his ass. When the next streetlight turned amber, he sped through, cut in front of a green Wrangler, and took the onramp to the Gardiner in a hurry.

  The car behind them stopped and waited for the light.

  He chuffed at himself as they ramped up onto the overpass. Not everyone in the Human Realm was a demon. His Spidey senses were tingling, but after the past weeks in Hell, they probably needed to be recalibrated.

  Maybe he was getting paranoid in his old—

  A thundering crash from the left lane brought a cement truck barreling in hard beside him. He cranked his head to the side and cursed. Nope. Spidey senses worked just fine.

  He swerved a jerky right to avoid getting swiped as the truck pushed into his lane.

  “What’s that asshole doing?” Storme said.

  He didn’t have time to guess. There was a line of cars ahead of him and a guard-rail on the right. He stomped on the brakes. The squeal of rubber-on-road accompanied a sickening stench of burnt tread.

  A second truck struck them from behind. The jolt of the collision knocked them forward in a violent wave.

  “Fuck. We’re boxed in.”

  He tried again to find an opening to drive them out of this. There was none. The cement truck rammed them right and kept pushing.

  He cranked a hard left on the steering wheel, but the guard-rail had no hope of keeping them on the expressway. Tipping sideways, the Navigator careened off the Gardiner, falling through the air to the Lakeshore below.

  Storme’s consciousness withdrew from the panic of the situation to the distant reasoning she needed to survive. With no time to weave a protection spell in the microseconds of their crash, she’d only managed to brace them from the worst of the impact. The truck stopped rolling in a violent lurch and a moment of utter silence swallowed them up.

  Blinking past the blood warming her eye, her brain raced, frozen in time. It struck her then. She’d just starred in a Fast and Furious car chase movie scene.

  It didn’t seem real. No, in fact, it seemed surreal.

  Trucks slamming them through the concrete and steel rail, their vehicle falling sixty-five feet to the street below, the Navigator rolling in a centrifugal nightmare as glass shrapnel bombarded. The screeching crunch of metal scraped at the inside of her mind, trying to claw its way free.

  Hands quaking, she fumbled for her seatbelt release. It didn’t work. “Bo?” The roof on the driver’s side had crushed down to the door. She didn’t understand. How . . .? The steel of the dash wedged between them. Where . . .? Why couldn’t she understand where she was?

  “Storme?”

  Bo’s voice snapped her back to reality. “I’m here.”

  “Run,” he said, a wet gurgle bubbling through his words. “Get clear.”

  Clear? Clear of what? Right, this wasn’t a car accident.

  This was an attack.

  Cement trucks didn’t ram trucks off overpasses. She searched the tangled jungle of steel and deployed airbags. She found Bo’s jacket through the mess and reached through to squeeze. “Can you get out from your side?”

  “I’m right behind you. Can you see a way out?”

  Her door was mangled. The front windshield was crushed. The back of the truck fared better. “If I shift, I might make it out the back window.”

  “Off you go,” he wheezed.

  “And you’ll get free on your side?”

  “Yeah. Worry about yourself.”

  A dagger of doubt slid between her ribs and pierced her heart. He was lying. She knew it and knew why. She had to survive to ensure Phoenix survived. Bonded Nephilim were powerful and dangerous—Phoenix even more so.

  “I love you.”

  “You too. Now go.”

  Storm shifted with a thought, the change in her form and her razor-sharp claws enough to free herself from the restraint of her seatbelt. Once she untangled her limbs from her Vince Camuto pantsuit and winter coat, she crawled through the devastated belly of the vehicle.

  She couldn’t wait for Bo.

  A clouded leopard emerging from a car wreck drew attention from the gathering crowd of good Samaritans calling it in. I’m sorry, Viking, she thought, wishing she could do anything besides leave him behind.

  Her only shot was to find Phoenix and, goddess willing, get them back in time to help his brother.

  Danel and Seth met up with Phoenix outside Union Station shortly before seven. The three of them weaved along the busy sidewalk and focused on not mowing over the eighteen-thousand Maple Leaf fans heading to the Air Canada Centre.

  “You picked the wrong meal to skip, Phoenix,” Seth said, patting the front of his leather trench. “Southwest ribs. Enchilada casserole. Ohmygod, the pork posole was incredible. Don’t worry, despite me trying to have thirds, Austin put some away for you.”

  Danel laughed. The adage that you win a male over through his stomach held especially true for Seth.

  Phoenix nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, studying the posture and energy of his brother. “Something on your mind?”

  Phoenix raised his hands and frowned. There’s a glitch in the Matrix. I feel someone siphoning Otherworld power but can’t get a read on who or where.

  Seth made a face. “Is it just me or does that sound like it’s really going to suck?”

  It’s not you. My skin’s been itching all day. It’s like the dark universe is warning— Phoenix dropped his hands and cranked his head around like it was on a swivel.

  The surge of magic that pulsed off him knocked Danel and Seth staggering back a step. Before they could ask what set him off, he beat feet down Yonge towards the lake.

  It was an unwritten rule that when your brother-in-arms flipped into assault mode, you backed him up. When that brother happened to possess the magical equivalent of an atom bomb and could levitate entire buildings, you called in the Cavalry—’cause whatever bee just flew up his bonnet was about to get totally annihilated.

  Danel hit the comm pad on his vest and kept his legs pumping. “Somethings wrong with Phoenix,” he panted as they banked hard at the Lakeshore and fought to keep up. �
��He’s gone full-tilt Running Man. Lakeshore and Lower Sherbourne.”

  Tanek had rigged button cams in their vests too but Danel made sure to keep the updates flowing. These days, they didn’t leave anything to chance.

  “Oh fuck,” Seth cursed, pointing at the jungle cat racing straight at them.

  “Storme has shifted,” he heard Tanek say over their line.

  No way would she do that unless it was life or death. “Her gate’s off,” Danel added, thankful Phoenix was gearing down. “Her right leg isn’t carrying its weight correctly. Advise Drina.”

  Storme’s eyes flashed gold in the streetlights and the clouded leopard launched into the air. Phoenix opened his arms and caught his mate. The impact knocked him back, but there was no way he’d ever drop his female.

  “She’s bleeding,” Seth said, waving a car past and shoving his twin off the thoroughfare and behind a grouping of cement columns.

  Phoenix’s wings came up, and Danel cursed. “It’s seven thirty on a Friday night, Phoenix. You can’t just—” Yeah, so much for logic. Phoenix pushed off the ground and launched into the darkness of the night sky.

  Seth cursed and bolted back into a run.

  Danel resumed the chase. “What did I miss?”

  “A convo on the Egyptian private channel. Bo is pinned in the Navigator, with incoming hostels.”

  And with that, all hopes of a quiet evening in the streets was formally shot to shit.

  Danel and Seth arrived at the scene of carnage at the same time Detective Colt Creed pulled up in his blue Tacoma. The stunning paint job perfectly matched the vibrant blue of the Ice Demon’s eyes. But as pretty as the Darkworlder looked, he was even more deadly.

  He and Seth stayed well back from the police tape but didn’t need a front row seat to get the gist of what happened.

  “What. The. Fuck?” Zander said, joining them. Kyrian and Hark pulled up the rear.

  “And the gangs all here,” Colt said, coming over to chat. He opened his jacket and slipped Kyrian a Crystalline Dagger. “Which one of you assholes owns that? Come on. Does ‘secret lives in the shadows’ mean nothing to you fuckers anymore? If I hadn’t pulled that out, you’d have your ass in a sling with the Archangels. Again.”