The Keepers: Declan (12 page)

Kate’s eyes fluttered open when she heard the groan, her mind snapping to attention. She blinked, trying to make sense of the darkness around her, her body lulled by the gentle movements of the train. A few scattered night lights along the outside of the coaches offered minimal light, but enough for her to gather her bearings.

Declan groaned again in his sleep beside her. Judging by his twisted expression and the shudder that tore through him, he was caught in a nightmare.

“No,” he moaned, the sound slicing through the silence of the room. His head moved from side to side on the pillow, his fists clenching the twisted duvet.

“Declan,” she whispered.

“No!” he snapped, thrashing his arms. “Sarah, no!”

A mixture of concern and alarm swirled inside her and Kate sat up. “Declan, wake up.” She touched his shoulder, his face, and called his name again, louder this time.

With a deep-throated roar, his eyes opened and he bolted up with a speed that startled her. He lunged for her, pinning her against the bed. Powerful fingers gripped her throat, threatening to snap her neck.

She clawed at him, choking, trying to form his name, but air and words evaded her. His grip tightened and he growled above her, the sound vicious and drowned in hot fury. She bucked but his heavy bulk weighed her down. Using her arms and legs, she began thrashing, felt herself losing consciousness, and fought against the panic.

“
Declan
,” she choked, his name a twisted gasp.

He let go, gaping at her as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Oh, God,” he grunted, his voice husky, and lined with confusion. “Kate?”

Holding her neck, she flinched when he reached out. With a guttural groan, he reared back with a speed so forceful that he collided with the wall behind him. The room rattled on impact, a lamp toppled over.

“Declan, wait!” Climbing off the bed, she went to him, overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him.

It wasn’t fear she felt. Or pity. He was hurting and everything inside her clenched in objection.

“I hurt you,” he growled, his entire body trembling with rage. He tried to step away but she closed in, cupping his face, her fingers brushing the rough black stubble.

“Don’t,” she said firmly, tugging him back to her. “It’s okay.”

“I was dreaming. My sister  …  I  … ” He closed his eyes, dragging in a ragged breath.

She nodded, stroking her thumbs along his jaw. “Declan  …  I’m fine.”

His eyes flew open when she said his name, his gaze meeting hers. The need for words fell away and they stared at each other in silence. Heat prickled between them, different to before, and she felt the familiar pull between them. A shiver ran down her spine and she ached to hold him, to wash away the pain.

He tugged her hands away from his face and she felt the tremble in his touch. His gaze fell to her lips, his eyes a beady mixture of fury and passion.

“Declan, no,” she whispered but her words held no weight and went ignored.

Sliding one hand behind her neck, he drew her closer and covered her mouth with his.

Her sharp intake of breath was swallowed by a kiss so powerful, so urgent, that it shook her to the core.

Desire sparked, sending her senses into overdrive, stirring a longing inside her, and she clung to his shoulders while his mouth raided hers.

A low growl caught in his throat, the sound deep and primal, and he pushed closer, the evidence of his desire pressed against her. His tongue swept against hers, demanding more, and he slipped his arms around her waist.

Turning around, taking her with him, he walked forward. He pressed her against the wall, tipping her head back so that he could devour her neck. His hand slid beneath the fold of her robe, his Keeper ring grazing the skin along her thigh, sending her libido soaring.

His teeth nipped, his tongue sending delicious sensations sweeping across her skin. His hand found her breast, the intimate act sending a shiver through her. His touch was warm, firm, demanding, and she breathed him in, caught by the urge to abandon everything she’d ever been warned against and give herself to him. Again.

And this time, the urge was even stronger. She’d had a taste of what sex with him was like. Sensual, blissful, mindless.

Oh, she remembered everything he’d done to her.

She groaned when his head dipped to capture her nipple in his mouth, the sensation warm and incredible. In a swift movement, he cupped her thighs, tugging her legs around his waist. His hips rolled against hers in grinding movements that had her breathless and panting for more.

He was wild, ruthless, consuming her with a passion she’d only ever known with him. A delicious roughness that threatened to scatter her thoughts and fill her mind and body with only one thing.

Declan.

Realising she was about to lose herself in this man, she fought for ground, reached for common sense, and reminded herself who he was – what he was. Getting involved with him would go against everything she fought for.

A life free from the supernatural world.

A bolt of panic spread icicles through her and she drew back, pressing her hands against his chest. “Whoa. Declan, stop.” Her words came out on a choppy gasp of air, and she met his gaze. Raw hunger stared back.

He froze and she felt him withdraw, even though he’d barely budged. He dipped his head, his temple against hers, as they both struggled for air, panting against each other.

With a low growl, he slammed the wall beside her, and pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” he grunted, turned around, grabbed his shirt, and bolted.

Sighing, Kate wrapped the robe around her. Her legs were shaking and she slid along the wall until she reached the ground.

Wow.

****

Declan snatched the bottle of whiskey and a glass from behind the bar, not bothering with the lights. The deserted lounge was in darkness, perfect for venting. He poured so fast that the liquid splashed on the counter. Slamming the bottle down, he downed his drink before pouring another.

Fury brewed inside, along with an undeniable sense of shame he couldn’t shake.

He’d hurt Kate,
strangled
her, dammit! And then like a madman, he’d shoved her against the wall and ravished her.

But he’d wanted her with a burning desire he’d never felt before, the intense need to consume her so powerful that he’d lost all common sense.

Anything to wash away the gut-clenching horror that came with the nightmares.

They were always the same; it was only the intensity that varied. But each time he dreamt of his sister’s death, he fell deeper into the black hole of guilt and despair.

Ignoring the glass, Declan swiped the bottle off the counter and paced the abandoned lounge, rage burning inside him.

He was trembling, his mind swarming with painful memories he battled to deflect. He growled, the sound coming out like an enraged beast, and clenched his fists.

The night of Sarah’s death had killed the life they’d known. Four siblings, bound together by blood and the duty of protecting the Beckham witches. Along with Sienna, they’d all been inseparable.

Until the night they’d bound Mason. It had been the only way to stop his evil madness but they’d underestimated Warrick and his loyalty to his brother.

And sadly, Sarah had paid the price. Beautiful, sweet Sarah.

She’d been in that damn tomb protecting Sienna and had died protecting him. Gone in a snatch of violence.

Declan growled, the sound tearing through the darkness as he paced the floor, finally settling in front of the deserted musical instruments in the corner of the room.

Reaching for the guitar, he slugged at the bottle, cursing the Brogan brothers, loathing himself for not protecting his sister, and fought against the grief that threatened to destroy him.

It didn’t take Kate long to find him. After all, a quiet, cramped train at four in the morning offered Declan few options to hide.

She pushed open the heavy lounge door, surprised to hear a tune she immediately recognised being played on a guitar. It was a theme song from an old movie, one her mother had taught her as a young child, a tune she knew by heart.

Declan?

Closing the door, she moved toward him, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist. He sat in the darkness wearing jeans and his white shirt, unbuttoned, a bottle of whiskey on the seat beside him. His expression was grim, lost to the music, his fingers working across the strings with practised ease. It was such a contrast to the warrior who’d fought for her or the beast who had almost strangled her.

The man who’d devoured her.

The melody struck her, as it always did, with its simplicity and beauty, and she sauntered across the room, unable to tear her eyes away from the man at the guitar. So strong, powerful, and completely in tune with the music.

His rhythm didn’t falter when she approached, the slight narrowing of his eyes the only indication that he’d heard her.

The music picked up a pace, the drama of the song reaching its peak, and she edged closer, drawn to him. She knew this was wrong; she shouldn’t be attracted to him. He stood for everything she should fear.

A world she’d been taught to run from.

Despite all that, she couldn’t stay away from him. The realisation prompted an ocean of guilt, threatening everything her mother had believed and worked so hard for. Died for.

She’d be screaming in her grave.

But his face held a wealth of emotion that tugged at something within her. His anger had quietened; the music – or whiskey – calming the raging demons. His eyes were a grey thunderstorm, his expression even, yet marred by sadness.

His sister?

Kate slid onto the seat beside him, not saying a word, absorbing the familiar melody.

For a brief moment, they sat together as she watched his hands work their magic across the strings, mesmerized.

Then she inhaled softly and began to hum, picking up the tune at his next pause. His head tilted an inch, acknowledging her presence for the first time.

But he continued to play and they fell into an easy rhythm.

As she sang, she became more aware of the man beside her. She could feel the gentle movement of his quiet, even breathing, inhaled his warm, masculine scent and sensed the energy shift between them.

The music flowed, age-old electricity sparking to life as it always did whenever he was near. It wasn’t about the music anymore.

Her pulse began beating its erratic rhythm reserved for him, her breathing grew shallow, and even though she tried to concentrate on the music, everything about him plagued her senses.

She drew in a sharp breath when he stopped playing and quietly placed the guitar on the floor beside him. He shifted in his seat, settling a thigh on either side of the bench, facing her. He gripped her waist, drawing her into the space between his legs, and rested his forehead on her temple.

The moment was as beautiful as it was fierce and she continued to hum softly, her body racing far ahead of the gentle tune, her heartbeat soaring.

He tilted his head, his lips against her ear, holding her close. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, the words choked.

She paused, her melody missing a beat the same way her heart did. Slowly, she shook her head and he exhaled quietly, pressing his face into her hair, and breathed her in.

“So why are you?”

She had no idea but every part of her being wanted to be nowhere else but here. With him.

“I hurt you and it won’t be the last time,” he whispered, “because that’s what I do.”

His words sounded so tortured, sad, edged with regret.

And yet, she wasn’t afraid. If anything, his honesty enthralled her.

His fingers tracked the stray hairs on her cheek, stroking the curls behind her ear.

“You should go back to bed. Walk away, Kate. Now.”

She turned her head to look at him. “
You
walk away, Declan. You.”

A shiver shot through her as he dipped his head, dropping feather-like kisses across her jaw. His fingers crept across her neck, tilting her head toward his. His touch was possessive but undeniably gentle.

He caught her mouth with his, his lips warm and soft against hers, sending a thrill of excitement through her. She breathed him in, completely overpowered by his sheer masculine beauty.

A flash of desire mingled with something else she was determined to deny. The room was plunged in silence, marred only by the sounds of their deep breathing and the gentle humming of the train.

He tugged her around so that she straddled him. She tangled her fingers in his hair, capturing his mouth with hers.

The kiss sent them reeling, the force of emotion catching her off guard. She didn’t bother fighting it, dismissed the flash of warning that came with the sensation, refusing to listen to reality for now.

He nudged open her gown, the material settling beside each breast, giving him complete access. His sudden intake of breath excited her when she reached for his hand, guiding them across her curves to cover swollen breasts.

The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, the quiet moment they’d shared moments earlier surpassed by an insatiable desire.

The sound of the door opening, followed by a mumbled apology, had Declan breaking away with a deep growl in the back of his throat.

Kate tugged her robe closed and blinked, trying to clear the murkiness that had overruled her common sense.

The door closed, leaving them alone, and she offered Declan a shaky smile. He caught her chin between his fingers and gave her a lingering kiss. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth.

“You have to stop kissing me,” she whispered and his lips twitched into a hint of a smile.

“You’re so damn sexy. I can’t help myself.”

“Practise some control, warrior boy.”

“Practise is for amateurs.”

He trailed a finger along her neck, his touch so gentle; so different to the vice-like grip that had almost strangled her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his expression clouded with a dark emotion she’d never seen before.

She covered his hand with hers. “I’m fine, Declan. I’ve had a lot worse happen to me.”

“Yeah, you have. And you shouldn’t. It’s all bullshit.”

“Do you often dream about her?”

He frowned, and surprised her by actually answering. “Most nights. Some are worse than others.”

“You blame yourself.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. His tortured expression said it all.

“Tell me about her.”

His head shot up, his gaze meeting hers, and she felt the rapid increase of his heart rate.

“Sarah,” she pressed, keeping her voice low. “What was she like?”

He remained quiet for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to reply until a small smile eventually relaxed his features. “Beautiful, smart, crazy. She was a Keeper like us and so good at it.”

She saw the flash of pride soften the darkness in his eyes and she ached to know more. “What happened the night she died?”

“Mason had taken Sienna, linking her to him with a spell. She outmanoeuvred him and broke the spell, using another one to bind his powers. It was crazy to watch and then suddenly, it was all over. Or at least, I thought it was.” He lowered his gaze.

Unable to stop herself, she tangled her fingers in his dishevelled hair, caught by his raw emotion, surprised to see his defences lowered.

“We’d sealed Mason in the tomb. Sienna and Rose had cast the spell to strip Warrick of his powers. He was unconscious on the ground. Everything was quiet, the ceremony was over, and Archer and Ethan went above ground.” There was a hitch in his voice and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting in his throat. “I didn’t see Warrick coming for me. My guard was down and I didn’t see what happened. By the time I spun around, Sarah was between us and he’d stabbed her.”

He closed his eyes and Kate wrapped her arms around his head, drawing him closer against her. She felt his snatched breathing against her flesh, his heartbeat, and she held onto him, aching to ease the pain that came with the memories, knowing she couldn’t.

“And Rose? What happened to Rose?”

“A few months ago, just after we were together in New Orleans, Warrick returned to Rapid Falls. He demanded that Sienna return his powers and free Mason. Things got heated and we were all wounded. Sienna almost died defeating him and Rose sacrificed herself to save her.” He shook his head, his jaw clenched in a tight grimace. “We lost two beautiful women simply because they chose to protect the ones they loved.”

“Rose and Sarah did exactly what you would have done.”

He inhaled deeply, and lifted his head, reaching for her hands. “My sister’s death destroyed everything. I live for protecting my witch, defending my brothers. That’s all I have left, all I can offer. You’re right to stay away from me. From this.”

“What
is
this, Declan?”

“I have no idea. One moment I want to throttle you, the next moment I want to devour every inch of you.”

His honesty sent her heartbeat soaring.

“We’re from different worlds, different backgrounds,” she murmured, trying not to recall the dozens of warnings her mother had dished out over the years.

“This has nothing to do with our differences, Kate. You’re a part of my world whether you like it or not.” His words rang with frustration, his smouldering gaze fixed on hers.

“I can never be part of your world, Declan. All I’ll be is a tool to tipping the balance in your favour. I’ve spent my entire life avoiding the supernatural. It’s instinctive. This,” she said, waving a finger between them, “will complicate things. It can never be real because there’ll always be my powers between us.”

The narrowing of his eyes indicated that she wasn’t wrong. He nodded, released her hands to cradle her face. Looking up at her, his grin triggered a race of butterflies in her stomach. “You know this is unavoidable, don’t you?”

She didn’t reply, torn between the truth and her refusal to admit to it. “Just don’t kiss me again.”

He chuckled and touched his lips to hers.

“Declan!”

He laughed and pulled back, the sound easing the tender moment between them. He slid off the chair and took her hand. “We should get some sleep. The sun’s almost up and the train will reach town soon.”

Sleep? After he’d revved her up more than once? Right. And the idea of returning to his family and his home sent a flare of fear through her. She hesitated and he caught the reluctance, tipping her chin upward.

“Don’t worry about Sienna and my brothers. They’ll be fine.”

She nodded, doubtful, and he smiled.

“Besides, you’re my houseguest.”

“I don’t really make the best
houseguest
.”

He flicked at the robe she wore. “If you’re dressed like this, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, you’re so naughty.”