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  WAKING THE WATCHER

  Copyright©2017

  KIM LORAINE

  Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood

  Editor Linda Ingmanson

  Formatted by Champagne Formats

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by KIM LORAINE

  ISBN: 978-1544145686

  www.kimlorainewriter.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To Jenn, for believing in Galen from day one

  The darkness covers me like a cloak, keeping me out of sight and hidden from view. I need to hunt, need to feed, the urge so strong, my fangs descend before I’ve even zeroed in on my prey. In the almost one hundred years of my existence as a vampire, I’ve never been this filled with hunger. I watch the crowded dance floor as bodies writhe and sway. Sweaty skin, flushed cheeks, all ripe for the picking. Try as I might, I can’t find the one I need tonight. It’s never easy, choosing the girl I’m going to kill, but I always find her.

  Tonight the club is filled with the same women I always see. Desperate for love, attention, and validation that they’re not too old to be there. Usually this means plenty of easy targets. I could have any of them up against the wall, my teeth in their necks. I like to pretend there’s more coming. Make them think I’m going to fuck them before I feed. I suppose I do, sort of. I send them off into oblivion in a rush of pleasure more powerful than any orgasm they’ve ever experienced. I just can’t do it with my cock.

  I used to miss it, the feeling of blood filling my dick, the tightening in my balls right before I came. Maybe I still do, in a way, but usually it’s eclipsed by another sort of lust.

  A busty redhead catches my eye, her lush, pouty lips the sort of thing I’d have gone for when I was a horny lad spending my nights at the pub. She grins and curls a finger, beckoning, and I head in her direction. She’s just the kind of woman I like to take. She’d give me a wild ride, and I’d leave her drained in the alley. As I move across the floor toward her, the smile she sends me tells me she’s been waiting for me to notice her.

  “It took you long enough, handsome,” she purrs in my ear.

  I don’t smile at her teasing. All I want is to feed, but something is missing in this woman. She doesn’t feel right. I could feed off her and be done with it, but I know she won’t fully sate my thirst. Her hand runs up my chest and into the hair at the back of my neck.

  “God, you’re hot. Want to get out of here?” she asks, pressing her breasts firmly into my chest.

  I barely hear her, though, as my heart gives an alarming stutter. I usually don’t feel its slow pulse. It thuds again—hard. What the hell? Turning my head, I see her. She’s not a ravishing beauty by any means, but there’s something innately sensual about her as she stands with her back pressed to the bar, talking to a friend, her long, dark hair falling over one shoulder. Wide blue eyes meet mine, and I’m instantly hard. What is happening to me? I remove the redhead’s hand from my neck and, without a word, stalk my way across the dance floor. I have to be with this woman. She’s the one I need to feed from tonight. The one I need to do so many other things to as well. So many things I haven’t been able to do for a hundred years.

  Her brows rise when I reach her, and I don’t blame her for being startled. I’m standing inches away from her. I’m much too close for most people’s comfort, but I need to drink her in. To be surrounded by the heat radiating from her body. My dick twitches as I lean even closer and breathe in her scent. What is she doing to me?

  “Come with me,” I demand, hitting her with the full force of my gaze.

  She laughs softly and blinks up at me. “Does that work on anyone? Really?”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’ve never had to do more than that. This is both frustrating and curious. Typically, I lay the Dracula hypnosis on them, and they do what I want.

  “Usually every time,” I admit.

  Her hand brushes mine, and we both take in sharp breaths at the tingle that starts to build where our skin touches.

  “I’m Reese,” she says.

  “Galen,” I offer. I don’t know why I told her my real name. I usually go with something overtly masculine like Trent or Dirk. Galen betrays my deep Irish roots. I’ve always thought it made me sound soft.

  “Galen.” She tries my name out as if checking to see how it feels on her tongue.

  I have to bite back a moan as an image of her tongue wrapped around my cock floods my mind. I’m painfully hard. If I’m not buried balls-deep in this woman in the next ten minutes, I might explode.

  “Are you here to find someone to fuck or marry?” I ask. Tactful? No. But I need to get to business, right now.

  Her mouth falls open into a little “O” of surprise, and I roll my eyes. She’s oblivious to the fact that she’s killing me.

  “Look, I’m serious. I’m not looking for more than someone to share an amazing night with. I want that someone to be you. Come with me, Reese. I’ll show you more pleasure than you could ever dream of.”

  She swallows and motions for the bartender to fill her drink, tossing it back as soon as the glass hits the bar.

  “Promise?” she asks.

  I feel a little guilty, promising her pleasure while planning to end her life. But then she accidentally brushes her hip against my crotch, and I know I have to take her. There’s something special about Reese, and I’m not going to risk missing out on that just because I have to kill her.

  It takes everything I have not to press Reese into the alley and thrust myself inside her. A deep ache settles in my balls as they tighten and my shaft hardens even more, as if that’s possible. We walk in tense silence, my hand on the small of her back.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, her words a soft, husky melody breaking through the quiet night.

  “My driver is around the corner. I assume you don’t have a problem coming back to my place?”

  She straightens her shoulders, stopping us in the middle of the sidewalk, and places herself di
rectly in my path. “No. No problem.”

  A jolt runs through me at the determination hiding in her expression. Leaning into me, she runs a tentative hand up my chest before pressing her body against mine. I know she’ll feel me, hard and ready, but I don’t give a damn. All I want at this moment is to keep feeling her. The heat of her skin and the soft scent of vanilla in her hair mix with the headier scent of her arousal, overwhelming me. Before I can react, her lips are on mine, and a fire overtakes me.

  My hands tangle in her long, dark hair, taking her kiss from gentle to frantic in the space between breaths. Now that she’s crossed the threshold, I can’t keep hold of my control. I press my hips into her, making sure she feels what she’s doing to me, needing the friction to relieve some of the pressure against my fly. She parts her lips on a little moan, giving me the delicious opportunity to slide my tongue in her mouth. Fuck, she tastes like wine and honey. It’s intoxicating, and I want more. My head spins as her breasts rub against my chest and her fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt.

  “You’re cold,” she murmurs against my lips.

  “Aye.” I hear myself speak but barely recognize the rough tone. My Irish is showing, but I couldn’t care less. “Aren’t you?”

  As if she’d forgotten we were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she blinks hard and quickly steps away. The absence of her heat is like a little death. I need her like a drowning man needs air. The town car is mere feet away from us, but I never want to stop kissing her. Pulling her to me again, I cover her mouth with mine and cup her luscious ass, lifting her with little effort. When she wraps her legs around my hips, a surge of victory runs through me. Long, drugging kisses keep me walking slowly toward the car. I hold her up one-handed while I open the door with the other. Never breaking contact with her lips, I maneuver us into the backseat, laying her out across the leather. It’s more cramped than I’d like, but for what I have in mind, it’ll do.

  “Wait.” That one word, just a breath from her lips, hits my veins like ice water.

  Her small hand pushes at my chest, and, although it physically hurts me, I move away. “Don’t stop this. Not now.” I’m still kneeling on the floor, hovering over her.

  I can hear the erratic beating of her heart, the blood pulsing through her body, but all I want is to be with her, inside her. Sitting up and scooting to the other side of the car, she straightens her skirt and turns away from me. Panic sets in, gripping my chest.

  “Let me out,” she says.

  “Reese …” I don’t know how to stop her. I could just take her, here and now, but I’ve never raped a woman, and I’m not going to start now.

  Her whole body is trembling as she reaches for the door. “This was a mistake. I…I can’t do this.”

  Somehow, I manage to keep myself from following her out of the car, even though every nerve in my body is screaming at me to take her and sate my lust. Why am I reacting this way? I try to convince myself that her leaving is a good thing. Something must be wrong with me. Who knows what might have happened if I’d had my way with her? My cock throbs, straining against my pants, a painful reminder of Reese.

  Ten minutes later, as my driver pulls the car into my underground garage, I shift uncomfortably, trying to rid myself of the erection tenting my pants. I need a release—that much is obvious. Aching with need, I rush through the door and into my home, pulling at my trousers as I make my way to the shower.

  “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me, Galen?” Devin’s amused timbre carries through the darkened living room, stopping me in my tracks. Being caught by my friend and mentor with a raging erection is mortifying to say the least. Although he’s not responsible for changing me, he has been my sole source of guidance over the last ninety-odd years, and he doesn’t ever let me forget that fact.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, you wanker?”

  He raises an eyebrow as he switches on the lamp. “Looks to me like you’re about to be the wanker.”

  Embarrassment floods me. I’m like a horny teenager who just discovered his dick. “I don’t know what’s going on. I was hunting, I saw her, and then…this.” I gesture to my crotch.

  Devin shakes his head and mutters, “Lucky bastard.”

  “Not lucky enough.” I let out a sigh and rake my hands through my hair. “I let her go.”

  My friend stares at me, his face a mask of indifference. “Well, I need to hunt. I haven’t fed in almost a week, but being the considerate friend I am, I stopped by to see if you wanted to come with me. Do you need to take care of your…problem? Or can we go?”

  The desire for Reese still burns in the back of my mind, but as I think about feeding, I can feel the bloodlust building inside. “Let’s go.”

  It’s official. I’m the worst at one-night stands. There I was, beautiful man ready to fuck me senseless, and I chickened out. Why is this so hard for me? I’m twenty-three. No one is still a virgin at twenty-three anymore, right? Except for me.

  Lying stretched out in my bathtub, I listen to the latest smutty romance novel I downloaded on audiobook. The heroine is just about to give it up to the biker bad boy, and all I can think about is Galen. He was mesmerizing. The things I wanted to do to him played over and over in my mind. Things I’d only ever read about.

  A sharp knock on the bathroom door has me pulling the curtain around the tub and sinking lower to hide beneath the bubbles.

  “Reese? Can I come in?” Trisha calls through the door.

  “Only if you bring more wine.”

  She laughs as she steps inside the steam-filled room. “On it, boss.”

  Through the sliver of space between the curtain and the wall, I see her grab my empty wineglass from the little table next to the tub and silently bless her.

  “So? It didn’t go as you planned?” Her tone is casual but curious as she returns and places a full glass within my reach.

  “I think I’m broken.”

  “Maybe he just wasn’t what you were looking for?”

  “Did you see him? He’s what every straight woman is looking for. He even had an accent.”

  She sighs and takes a seat on the closed toilet before turning off my audiobook. “God, for a virgin, you really like the sexy books.”

  “Research,” I say before taking a gulp of my wine.

  “I think what you need is some hands-on research at this point. What happened? Things looked pretty intense between you when you left.”

  Remembering the heat in his gaze sent a shiver through me. “I don’t know. I got in his car, I swear, he was going to seal the deal right there, but then I panicked. It seemed like it was going so fast.”

  “Sweet Reese, guarding her flower.”

  I fight off the frustration that wells up inside me. “That’s not it, and you know it. I’m not saving myself, I just haven’t taken that step.”

  “Yet.”

  I nod. “Yet.”

  It’s not that I don’t want to have sex. I’m more than ready. There just hasn’t been that … spark with anyone. I want passion and fireworks when I finally give it up. But, maybe that’s not how it really is. Then again, what happened between Galen and me had been the epitome of passion. I had thought my knees were going to give out on more than one occasion during our makeout session on the sidewalk. Just thinking about his hands in my hair, the press of his thickness against my core, the way he murmured my name …

  “Reese? Hello?” Trisha is still here. Shit. She’s talking to me, and I’m fantasizing. What is wrong with me?

  “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” I lie, thankful the shower curtain is covering me.

  “Don’t fall asleep in the bath. You’ll drown yourself, and then where will I be?” She yawns and lets out a sigh. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got rehearsal in the morning and a date tomorrow night.”

  I pull the drain plug from the tub and tell her good night, all while trying to rid my mind of thoughts of Galen’s expert tongue in my mouth.


  I’m bloody starving. It’s been a week, and I haven’t been able to get my mind off Reese and it’s messing with my ability to feed. Maybe I need to find her and fuck her out of my system. No. I need to move on and stop thinking about her.

  “Why did I let you choose tonight?” Devin complains as we line up at the entrance to the jazz club I’ve picked as our hunting grounds for the evening. Pulling his fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair, he heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I fucking hate jazz.”

  “It was my turn. Your last choice ended with us being mistaken for male strippers.”

  “Hey, it worked. I was just trying to find a way for us to feed and you to take advantage of your newly functioning anatomy. Male strippers are hot right now. You can thank Channing Tatum for that.”

  I roll my eyes and smile at the pretty blonde in front of us. She’s been sizing me up for the last few minutes. Maybe she’ll do tonight.

  Devin continues blathering on about strippers, and I focus my attention on the woman’s lips, jaw, and throat. I can see the pulse of her blood pumping through her veins. Maybe I can feed tonight.

  “Anyway, it’s not my fault you couldn’t get it up.” A blush rushes to her cheeks at Devin’s loud announcement. He glances between us and feigns innocence. “Sorry, I mean, I know that isn’t a regular thing for you. I’m sure she just wasn’t the right woman.”

  Letting out an annoyed breath, I turn away from blondie before she can say anything. “Will you shut your bloody gob?” I hiss.

  With a cocky smirk, he says, “You’re so cranky when you’re hungry.”

  I sense her as soon as we walk down the stairs to the dining room. Reese is here somewhere. I can smell her, feel her, almost taste her. My cock hardens immediately, and I let out a soft grunt of discomfort. Damn. A primal instinct takes over, and I survey the club.

  “Oh, I’ve found myself a companion for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t wait up,” Devin says. I follow his gaze, trained on a voluptuous brunette at the bar. Her date sidles up next to her and wraps an arm possessively around her waist.