Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) Felicity Heaton Once a proud angel of Heaven, Nevar is now a servant of Hell, bound to a new master—the King of Demons. Consumed by darkness and driven to seek revenge, he set in motion a series of events that awakened the Great Destroyer, a force that will bring about the apocalypse. Now, he is the creature’s master and the fate of our world rests in the hands of an angel with only darkness in his heart.
Lost in the mortal realm without any recollection of how she came to be there, Lysia is only aware that she has survived a great battle. When she stumbles into a demon bar, she finds more than a chance to discover what happened to her—she finds a dark and deadly angel warrior who stirs fire in her veins and awakens soul-searing passion she cannot deny.
With the mounting threat of the Great Destroyer, the forces of Heaven and Hell against him, and a band of dangerous angels intent on capturing Lysia on his heels, can Nevar protect the beautiful woman who is light to his darkness and find the strength to save the world?
Read on for a sneak preview of Her Avenging Angel!
Her Avenging Angel is due for release in ebook and paperback on October 11th 2014 and will be available from all major online book retailers. Pre-order links available soon at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php
Join Felicity’s mailing list to receive a notification when Her Avenging Angel is released, PLUS a sneak preview of the first 6 chapters of the book and chances to WIN a signed paperback copy: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/newsletter.php
Add the book to your Goodreads shelf at: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20940849-her-avenging-angel
Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:
Book 1: Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers
Lysia hovered by the entrance of the inn, unsure whether to enter or leave. Her stomach gurgled again, making her decision for her. She had to stay. There were colourful glass bottles lining the wall to her right and demons there were serving drinks to people who lined a long black bar. If they had mead and other liquids then perhaps they had food for her.
She moved deeper into the room and everyone turned to stare at her, their eyes wide. She frowned at them all. Why did they stare? She thought them all strange but she wasn’t being rude by staring at them. If she hadn’t been so hungry, she would have asked them, or forced them to tell her the reason.
She pushed through a group of male demons, all of which were wearing their human forms, and they turned on her. Their growls died as their eyes fell on her and they parted, staring as she passed.
Lysia leaned against the tacky black bar top.
A man walked over to her, tossed a rag over his shoulder, and smiled.
“What’ll it be?”
“I require sustenance.”
He frowned, a puzzled edge to his dark eyes, and shook his head.
Lysia tried again. “I must eat.”
He waved his right hand and another man joined him, a blond with pale eyes.
“Problem?” the blond said.
“Not getting this one,” the brunet responded.
The blond raked his eyes over her, his right brow quirking. “Taking things a bit far, aren’t we? You want something?”
She nodded. “I need sustenance.”
He looked at his friend and shrugged. “I don’t understand her.”
What was there to understand? She only wanted food.
The two men walked away, serving others who seemed to have no problem ordering what they desired and receiving it. She cursed them and everyone who communicated with them with ease. While she could understand many languages, she could write and speak only one. Without being able to speak to the serving staff, she had no chance of getting blood.
A woman beside her cast a glance her way, looked down at herself, and slipped off her seat and walked away, disappearing into the heavy crowd.
Lysia sighed, perched herself on the seat, and leaned on the bar with her forehead resting on her arms. She was warmer inside this noisy inn but still hungry, and still tired. She needed to feed. How?
A male stopped to her left.
She turned her head towards him and ran her eyes up from the waist of his impeccable crisp black suit to his shoulders and then his face. Vampire. She knew his kind and could see through his façade to the wretched monster beneath. He smiled, his fangs on show to her and his pale blue eyes swirling with ill intentions.
“Having trouble?” The dark-haired vampire leaned his left elbow on the bar beside her and she sat up.
She nodded. “I need to order blood.”
He frowned at her and her heart sank. He didn’t understand her either.
“What language is that? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it. Can you mime what you want?” He shifted closer and she focused hard on every word he said, listening closely so she could grasp the words he used and use them too.
He smiled a little wider, and shifted a little closer. His gaze drifted down to her chest and back up again.
“Mime?” He made a show of using his hands to make shapes.
She was about to do as he asked when he danced his fingers over her left shoulder.
A cold shiver ran over her flesh and skated down her spine.
Lysia flicked her right wrist and hurled him across the room, scattering the crowd and ripping a few shocked gasps from them.
A male further along the bar looked her way.
She froze as her eyes met his, heat pulsing through her, a visceral throb that reached right down to her bones.
The male was handsome, but darkness clung to him, danger that called to her and lured her to him. There was evil in him.
He would know her tongue.
He raised a glass filled with green liquid and tipped his head, causing threads of his silver-white hair to fall and brush his brow. He swept them back and she caught a brief glimpse of tiny horns above his ears. Her belly flipped and heated.
“Kudos for giving Villandry hell,” he said above the thumping music, his deep rumbling voice doing funny things to her insides and turning her knees to rubber.
She presumed Villandry was the name of the vampire now picking himself up off the floor across the busy room. She wasn’t sure what kudos meant though.
Lysia swallowed her trembling heart, slipped off her seat and approached the pale-haired male with all the confidence she could muster when he was staring at her, his jade eyes burning into her body and setting her aflame.
Rousing strange feelings within her.
She halted beside him.
He swivelled to face her, set his drink down on the bar but kept his left hand on the stem of the elegant glass, and raised an eyebrow.
“Why are you naked?”
He held his right hand out and black material appeared in it. He offered it to her.
Lysia took it and stared at it, unsure what to do with it.
The male huffed, released his drink and stood, managing to tower over her despite the fact she was taller than the other females present. He moved closer to her and took the material back, but she didn’t notice it leaving her hands. The heat radiating from his big body washed over her, cocooning her in warmth and strengthening the feelings stirring in the pit of her belly.
She stared down at the strip of cut, hard muscles visible between the armoured plates around his hips and his breastplate. A warrior. Her heart accelerated. Her breathing quickened. She dragged her eyes back up to his face and found he wasn’t looking at her. He busied himself with slipping her arms into the garment he had made for her and she busied herself with memorising every sculpted plane of his face, from his straight nose and strong jaw, to his firm lips as they compressed into a mulish line.
She inched her gaze up higher, to the stunning jade eyes that were focused on their work with an intensity that made her ache inside with a desire to have them locked on hers with the same ferocity.
They shifted to meet hers and then dropped, a fascinating glimmer of shyness in them that lasted only a heartbeat before coldness swept in to wash it away.
He tugged the material closed over her front and tied a belt around her waist, fastening the garment in place.
“There,” he murmured, “now people will stop looking at you funnily, and you can stop looking at me funnily.”
He stepped back, a scowl darkening his striking eyes. She hadn’t been looking at him strangely. She was merely fascinated by him. Now that she was close to him, she could sense the depth of the darkness within him but something else countered it, something she could only describe as good. There was more to the male before her than she had anticipated, and it made the pull she felt towards him grow stronger.
She looked herself over. The sleeves were too long, concealing her hands, and the material reached her ankles. The garment covered all of her, leaving nothing on show. Had that been his intention?
“What do you want?” he said, bringing her focus back to him.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Blood.”
He back peddled, almost falling over his seat, a flicker of something dark crossing his handsome face. His eyes shone pure violet.
He had eyes like hers.
And he understood her.
“Leave me alone,” he barked and snatched up his drink with a shaky hand. He downed it, slammed the glass back onto the bar top, and shoved it forwards, away from him. “I’m not interested.”
Lysia frowned and shrank back. Why was he rejecting her company? He had given her something to wear, had seemed concerned about her, and now he was pushing her away. She clutched the robe over her chest in both hands and risked a step closer to him instead.
“I only desire blood… but I cannot order it.”
His violet gaze darted to her and away again. A shadow settled on his troubled features, turning them grim. He looked down into her eyes for long seconds, stealing all of her attention, sucking it away from the room and her surroundings.
He raised his hand and she flinched away, anticipating the strike.
It didn’t happen.
She squinted, remaining held away from him, and looked up into his eyes.
He cocked a single pale eyebrow and waved his left hand. The brunet male behind the bar came to them. He had been signalling the serving staff.
She had much to learn about this realm.
“Blood, straight up,” the white-haired male said.
The servant’s expression turned wary and he shifted foot to foot. “I’m not allowed to serve you blood, remember? You made me promise.”
He had? She canted her head, studying both men. Why had the man asked the servant not to give him blood? Did he drink it as she did?
The pale-haired warrior scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. He pressed both hands into the bar, digging his black claws into the wood, and leaned forwards, closer to the man.
“It is not for me. It is for the woman.”
The brunet shrugged. “She has to order it then.”
The warrior tipped his head back, screwed his eyes shut and sighed, and she felt he was searching for calm. He drew several slow deep breaths before opening his eyes again and fixing them back on the barman.
“I do not think she knows how,” he said.
“I tried, but the man didn’t understand me.” That brought his gaze back to her and she shivered under the intensity of it.
“That would be because you are speaking a language this man doesn’t know… one I don’t have a fucking clue about either but for some godforsaken reason I can understand you.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, clawing it back until it tugged at his forehead, smoothing the skin, and ground his teeth. He released his head, dropped his hands to his sides, and huffed as he leaned over, bringing his face close to hers. “Repeat after me if you desire… blood.”
She nodded, noting that it had taken a lot of effort for him to speak that final word. Why?
She leaned closer to him, trying to shut out the noise of the room so she could hear every syllable that left his lips.
She watched how they moved as he spoke. How his tongue moved. How his teeth moved.