Releasing the Watcher: The Fallen Angel Trilogy #3 Page 2

She drops her gaze and twirls her long locks around her fingers as awkwardness settles in the silence. It’s easy to sense her desire to leave, and almost like clockwork, she begins turning her head.

  “What did you ask me? I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.” I’m practically begging her to believe my lie, hoping her smile will return.

  “Your tattoo. It’s so cool. Where did you get it done?”

  Again, my heart lurches. She shouldn’t be able to see my wings. Humans can’t see angelic grace unless they’ve been touched by it.

  “I…uh…my brother did it.”

  Her fingers twitch as she raises her hand and steps around me to get a better look at my back. “Do you mind?” she asks.

  Do I mind? She’s going to touch me, and she asks if I mind? I’ve been dying for her hands for what feels like eternity.

  I have to clear my throat before I can force the words free. “Go ahead.”

  The instant her skin brushes mine, a fire races through me. This body, my body, knows her touch like the melody of a favorite song. Goose bumps break out as I shiver, but she continues tracing the golden lines. I’d give anything to see her face, but I can’t move, my focus on the blades of grass at my feet as I take in the feel of her.

  “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen ink like this. It shimmers.”

  When she reaches the center of my back, the place where my true wings were ripped from me, a lance of pain shoots straight into my shoulders. With a sharp intake of breath, I step forward, unable to stand it any longer.

  “Sorry… It’s still tender right there.”

  “Oh, it’s new?”

  Shrugging, I slip into my shirt and step back under the tree’s shade. “I’ve had it a few weeks. The, um, ink is taking a while to get used to.”

  “It’s amazing. Did it hurt worse because of that ink?”

  “Almost worse than anything else I’ve experienced.”

  Her lips, perfect and plump, twitch as she fights a grin. “You’re a big guy. Can’t take a little needle?”

  “Oh, believe me, I can take just about anything, but this was hours upon hours.”

  “It is very intricate. Those feathers look almost real.”

  She takes her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, as though she’s biting back a question.

  “What? You look like you want to say something.”

  “It’s just…a strange tattoo. You know, for a man to get.”

  I can’t hold in my laughter. If she only knew how much I hadn’t wanted this, how they’d held me down and spent hours scratching the details into my skin, how I’d somehow managed not to scream when Michael hit bone.

  “I have a thing about wings,” I offer.

  Her face lights up. “Me too. Well, those and the moon.”

  Shock rolls through me as she pulls up the hem of her shirt to show me her side. There, etched in a splash of watercolor, is a stylized wing. Following her previous actions, I raise my eyebrows in question. When she nods, I run my finger over the softness of her skin and instead of looking at the tattoo, I stare into her eyes.

  Clearing her throat, she drops the fabric of her shirt and laughs. “Wow, you must think I’m crazy. I don’t usually just start touching strangers and letting them see my tattoos.”

  “You can touch me anytime you want.” It leaves my mouth before I can register what I’m saying.

  Her breath catches, and a charming pink rises to her cheeks.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, even though I know full well who she is. I’ve been practically stalking her for the last few weeks, but she doesn’t know that.

  “Selah. Selah Whitfield.”

  Nodding, I grin. “That’s lovely. It’s Hebrew, isn’t it? A musical term?” I’ve told her this before…the last time I spoke to her when I was still in Devin’s body. I glance at her left hand, and my heart leaps when I see her ring finger is bare.

  “It is. You know, you’re only the second person to ever tell me they know that.”

  It’s then that I realize my mistake. When I met her in this life, I was living in Devin, but I gave her my name. I can’t tell her who I am, not without causing serious confusion. I know any second, she’ll expect me to introduce myself.

  “I’m…Sam…Messenger.” It’s not a total lie. Sam is closer than anything else I can come up with, and as an angel, I am a messenger of sorts.

  “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

  The name sounds wrong on her lips. I want to hear the soft rasp as she moans Sariel with the same kind of passion we’d shared in our first life together. Gripping the back of my neck, I squeeze hard to try to bring my focus back to the situation we’re in right now.

  “It’s my pleasure, Selah. Not every day I get to spend time with a woman as beautiful as you. I should be thanking you.”

  Her cheeks flush crimson as she turns her gaze away from mine. Then, as though breaking a spell, her name sounds from across the path. A smile widens across her lips, taking away that beautiful blush I’d caused.

  “Adam,” she calls, her attention stolen from me. She jogs past me, and all I can do is watch as he catches her up in his arms. They begin walking away from me, but she casts a glance over her shoulder and offers me a smile. “Bye, Sam. Take care.”

  She’s not mine…not yet. But she will be. I just have to bide my time.

  My arms ache from overuse as I pull myself through the water for one final lap in the pool. I haven’t allowed myself to return to Green Lake since seeing Selah there. With him. For all I know, she could already be married to the bastard. The notion curdles my gut. She can’t marry another man. But if I see her again, I don’t know if I can contain myself. I’ll scare her off and ruin any hope of claiming her.

  After pushing my body free of the water at the side of the pool, I get to my feet and snag my towel, wrapping it around my waist before I head into the locker room. A soft gasp followed by a giggle catches my attention. For a moment, I allow myself to hope that fate has intervened yet again and brought Selah to me. My heart sinks when my gaze travels from the cement floor to the source of the noise. Two young women clad in red lifeguard swimsuits stand at the edge of the bleachers. They’re staring openly, hungry expressions on their faces.

  The blonde leans closer to her friend and whispers, “See, Heather, I told you he looks like a Greek god. He’s been here three days in a row.”

  A smirk turns up the corner of my mouth, but a twinge of worry hits me at the same time. I shouldn’t be able to hear them from this far away. I’ve been trying not to use my grace, but it’s almost an unconscious choice every time I do.

  Walking toward them with my focus on the locker room door beyond where they stand, I try to seem as disinterested as possible. I can feel their gazes on me as I move away and turn into the men’s locker room. As soon as I’m out of sight, relief hits me, and I sigh. I may not want any other woman, but my nature draws them to me. Taking the towel from around my waist, I scrub at my dripping hair and head for the shower. As I round the corner, I run straight into the immovable form of Gabriel. His chiseled features are filled with annoyance.

  “You got me wet,” he complains, gesturing toward the damp spot on his light-gray shirt.

  “Your fault,” I counter. “If you’d just call me like the rest of the world does when they want to talk to someone, this could all be avoided.”

  “I am not from this—”

  “Just get to the point, Gabriel.” I don’t have time for him right now. I just want to shower, change, and go home.

  “Tamiel has shown himself.”

  That stops me in my tracks. “What?”

  “We think he’s abandoning the other fallen. He may be of use to us.”

  “Why would he remove his cloak? He knows we’re looking for the Watchers who are fighting for Lucifer’s cause.”

  “He would probably rather spend eternity in purgatory than risk being punished as Azazel was. Smiting a brother, fallen or not, is never easy for me
, but I will do it if I have to. Tamiel knows that.”

  Gabriel has a point, but I wonder. “Do you think he’s found his soul mate?”

  My brother stiffens even more than usual, if that’s even possible. His icy glare is so cold, I fight a shiver. “Stop romanticizing your fall. You have a soul mate, you found her, the others never did.”

  “But they had them.”

  He shakes his head. “Only a scant few in comparison to the hundreds you took with you.”

  Guilt hits me at his reminder of my fall from grace. “Do you know where he is? Maybe I could talk to him and get some information.”

  “Get dressed. I can take you directly to him, but be prepared. He may not be so willing to talk.”

  Thousands of years ago, Mesopotamia

  Sweat trickles down in a line between my shoulder blades as I watch my mother choose yet another dye for the fabric she’s woven.

  “Selah, my dove, come over here so I can see you better. These are your wedding clothes we are having made, not mine.”

  Sick dread rolls through my stomach at the thought of exactly why this has been commissioned. I am to wed my father’s business partner and then be shipped off to Greece with the hope of building a strong and lasting alliance between our families. It is the last thing I want to do, to be practically sold to a fat old man with deep pockets.

  “Whatever you choose will be fine, Mother.”

  I can feel the frustration rolling off my mother in waves, encouraging me to wander farther away. But soon she is engrossed in dyes of all color and quality, and I slip away, unnoticed. The market is filled with people, all shopping with their eyes on the best bargains they can find. Vendors sell everything from figs and dates, to fish and handmade pottery. No one spares a glance as I pass through the array of tents. I need time and space to clear my head before my family obligations suffocate me. Cutting through the narrow roads and alleyways I first learned as a child, I make my way to my place. I’m sure it’s no secret, but to me, the patch of land hidden behind a wizened old pistachio tree has always been my sanctuary. The tree greets me like an old friend, offering shade and a place to reflect.

  The gnarled and knotted branches reach for the heavens, vivid green leaves spreading across my field of vision as they cut into the blue sky and bright sun. I take my place at the base of the trunk, leaning against the rough bark. Closing my eyes, I listen to the soft babble of the river as it runs across rocks. I take slow, deep breaths as I work to center myself. The warmth of the afternoon sun quickly sends me from relaxed to drowsy, and I’m soon dozing, in a state of semiconscious awareness.

  I wake with a start as something soft brushes against my cheek. My gaze connects with the most alarming set of silver irises. Scrambling backward, I try to get away, but the tree blocks my escape.

  “Take your hands off me,” I hiss.

  His face breaks into a heart-stopping smile, but he does as I ask, removing his hand and rising from the crouch he’d been settled in.

  “I’m sorry. You looked so beautiful, I couldn’t resist checking to see if your skin was as soft as I thought it would be.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks at his bold statement. No man ever dared speak to me this way.

  “It isn’t,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “What?”

  “Your skin. It isn’t as soft as I thought. It is softer.”

  Getting to my feet, I gather my skirts in preparation to run from this man, but the look in his startling eyes stops me. He stares at me as though he knows me. I want to leave, but I can’t look away. I’ve never seen a being more brilliantly gorgeous than the man standing mere feet away from me. He towers over my small frame, his big body thickly muscled and bronzed by the sun. The sheer size of him should alarm me—he could have me under him in moments without much effort—but his golden hair takes my breath away, pulling me toward him.

  “You are so beautiful, my little one.” The deep rumble of his voice sends a shiver of some unknown feeling through me, making my breasts ache.

  Remembering myself, I step back. “You are too familiar with me. I do not know who you are.”

  He chuckles and ignores my protestations, gripping my hand in both of his. At the contact, my chest tightens.

  “Forgive me. My name is Sariel. I came upon you as you slept and could not bear leaving you here alone. Tell me your name.”

  “S-Selah,” I manage.

  “Oh, Selah, it is my great honor to meet you.” He dips his head and presses his perfect lips to the top of my hand, just brushing my knuckles with the warm softness of his skin.

  I tremble.

  There’s nothing else I can do at this moment. If he wanted to take me, I don’t think I would be able to make myself stop him. Those molten silver eyes lock on mine as he releases my hand, and all I can do is stare.

  “Why are you afraid, little one?”

  “I’m not afraid. You are…different from any man I’ve met.”

  “That is true.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  The edge of his mouth twitches into a slight smile, one golden eyebrow rising. “Somewhere you would not know. It is far from this place.”

  Anger rises in me, hot and fierce. He may be beautiful, but he isn’t as different as I thought. “Are you being deliberately evasive? I don’t appreciate men thinking they can treat me like a toy or a child who cannot understand things beyond menial chores and making myself pretty.” Turning in a whirl of fabric, I walk away, feeling his gaze upon me as I do so.

  Before I get past the large tree and into the clearing, he is in front of me. A truly impossible feat that makes my heart stutter. His warm hand closes over my arm, sending shockwaves through me.

  “My Selah, please.”

  “I am not your Selah.” I wrench my arm free of his grasp even though all I want is for him to keep touching me. But the speed with which he moves has sent fear catapulting over my nerves. “Are you a sorcerer of some kind? A demon?”

  A laugh fills the air as he shakes his head. “I am no sorcerer, I can assure you. And as for your question of demons… Do you believe they even exist? Angels, demons, Heaven, Hell. How do you know they are real?”

  “It is a question of faith.”

  “And do you have faith?”

  Closing my eyes, I take a moment before I answer. “I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am needed. My mother will be missing me.”

  “And what if I will be missing you?”

  A thrill races up my spine. “That is unfortunate for you, Sariel.”

  He steps to the side, letting me pass, but calls out, “When will you allow me to look upon your beauty again?”

  “That cannot happen. I am to be wed in a few short weeks.”

  He surprises me with a chuckle, making me cast a glance over my shoulder.

  “We shall see about that, my Selah.”

  Wiping my sweaty palms across my gown, I veer down the path I shouldn’t be taking, searching for a man I shouldn’t wish to see. But still I continue. Sariel has been there in my dreams every night since our meeting nine days earlier. I cannot keep him from my thoughts, even though I try with all my might. I have avoided the clearing behind the old tree every day, but it hasn’t become any easier. My yearning to see him has only grown stronger.

  The evening sun casts a deep orange glow across the sky as it sinks below the horizon. I should not be out this late, not alone, but I have to prove to myself he isn’t waiting for me. Maybe then I can move on and seal away all fantasies of a life I can’t have.

  Circling the tree trunk, I fight my racing pulse and guard myself against disappointment. The clearing is empty, as I’d known it would be, but the unmistakable sinking of my heart has me sighing. I lean against the old tree, letting seconds turn to minutes as night creeps in. Closing my eyes, I think of the fat old man my father has chained me to for his own benefit. I try to picture myself happy with him, but I can’t.

  “
Such a beautiful mouth should not be turned down in a frown.” Sariel’s rich baritone flows over me, sending waves of warmth to places I shouldn’t be thinking of.

  Instead of looking at him, I sigh and train my gaze on the ground, letting my hair fall like a curtain in front of my face.

  “My Selah, why do you hide your beauty from me?”

  His fingers slide along my bare arm, leaving heat in their wake. Without my permission, my body reacts, leaning into him. He cups my chin and turns my face toward him. Then I’m lost in his gaze, and the world around us falls away. Nothing matters but him and me. His lips hover a heartbeat away from mine, his warmth radiating around us.

  Blinking hard to clear my head, I pull back. “How did you know I was here?”

  A smirk turns up the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting.” He runs his fingers through my long hair. “Watching.” His hand drifts to cradle my jaw, the pad of his thumb trailing along my lower lip. “Hoping to see you here again. For a chance to be close to you.”

  My heart is beating so hard, I think it might burst. I can’t breathe because his otherworldly scent makes me feel faint and I desperately want him to kiss me. Never in my life have I felt like this.

  “You are certainly close right now,” I sigh.

  A chuckle rumbles through him. “Not nearly enough.” His hand snakes around my waist, and in one smooth movement, he pulls me tight to his large body and spins us until my back is pressed against the tree. “Kiss me, my Selah.”

  Why is he asking? I could not get away if I tried, and that realization sends a shiver of desire through me. But truly, I want nothing more than to feel the heat of his mouth on mine, to know what this connection will be like if we deepen it. He is not the man I will marry, but I can’t go my whole life dreaming of Sariel and not have at least taken a kiss to remember him by.

  Locking my eyes on his, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. The glimmering blond strands feel like silk under my skin, and his breath hitches as I tighten my grip. Rising up on my toes, I pull him down and brush my lips with his. I just want a light kiss, a way to ease into something I’ve never done before, but as soon as we touch, he groans and his whole body tenses.