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.
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?
Her Avenging
Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple
iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links
to your preferred retailer at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php
Her Avenging Angel – Excerpt
“You fight naked?” Nevar waited for a
reaction to that, sure she would laugh at him.
She nodded. He looked her over again,
recalling her curves and how they had inflamed him. Still inflamed him.
Fighting naked would certainly give her an
advantage over a male opponent, but it provided no protection for her too.
“I can highly recommend armour.” He
regretted it the moment it left his lips and she looked down at his, making it
clear that she could see straight through his glamour to his real appearance.
Her eyes danced over every piece of it, studying it so closely that he squirmed
under the scrutiny.
He had loved his armour once, when it had
been blue edged with silver, the colours of a guardian angel, and his wings had
been stunning silvery-blue.
His contract with Asmodeus had turned it
obsidian edged with violet and had corrupted his wings, turning them as black
as Hell.
He could do nothing about either of them,
no matter how deeply he wished he could.
So he kept his wings hidden so he didn’t
have to see them and did his best not to look at his armour. He had once
considered giving it up and disposing of it somehow, but it provided
protection, and he didn’t think he could fight like the delicate-looking female
currently staring in absorbed fascination at him.
Naked.
Maybe he could fight naked with her.
His body stirred at that wicked thought and
he shifted on his stool, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She would probably toss
him across the room if she did.
Telekinesis.
He would give anything to have that power.
Where did she come from? She wasn’t mortal.
She wasn’t angelic. He didn’t think she was demonic either.
She was something else.
And she was beautiful.
And he was sober again.
He didn’t care. Not right now. She had all
of his focus, fascinating him with every little thing she did.
She sipped her blood.
Except that.
His stomach cramped, his fangs itched, and
his hunger rose like a demon within him.
He breathed through it. In for five. Out
for five. He didn’t need blood. In for five. Out for five. He was stronger than
his hunger. The cramps subsided. He exhaled slowly, silently congratulating
himself for successfully working through another attack, just as Liora had made
him promise he would do. Some ridiculous thing she had called positive affirmation.
The female lifted the glass back to her
lips and took another slow sip that painted them red and made him hunger to
kiss her.
The darker needs lurking within him gave
positive affirmation the finger and seized control, crushing his will to resist
before he could muster it.
He tried to back off before he jumped on
the female and stole the blood on her lips. The backs of his thighs snagged on
the leather of the stool seat, and he fumbled in an attempt to remain upright.
His left arm shot out, catching all the glasses on the bar and sending them
flying as he fought for balance.
The female stared at him and cocked her
head to one side.
He growled at her, dug his claws into the
bar and dragged himself up, leaving deep grooves in the black wooden top. The
shadows swirled higher, curling over his biceps and twisting around his thighs.
His fangs lengthened and he ground his teeth, desperately seeking some calm so
he could centre himself or whatever the fuck Liora had called it. His eyes
blazed violet, burning in his skull as the skin around them bled into darkness.
His shoulder blades itched, his wings
pushing for freedom.
Nevar snarled and buried his claws deeper
into the bar top, clinging to it as he fought the change, refusing to give into
it. It would pass. He just had to breathe.
What he really needed to do was let this
hippy shit go and rip the heads off everyone who was now staring at him as if
he was a one man freak show.
Including her.
He fixed his gaze on her.
Not including her.
Calm came over him like a cooling balm as
his eyes met hers, washing through him and chasing back the darkness enough for
him to get a grip on it and shove it back in its place, under his control. He
breathed slowly and steadily, willing to try the hippy shit again because he
had to admit it did work most of the time, and mentally apologising to Liora
for doubting her methods, and everyone in the bar for wanting to tear their
heads off and drink from their gushing necks.
The woman stood studying him still, her
head canted to one side, a curious edge to her gaze.
“You have a sickness,” she said.
He nodded. “I brought it upon myself… and
so I must conquer it myself too.”
She hopped back up onto her stool. “Why do
you deny what will make you better?”
She held the glass out to him and he shot
backwards, hit the stool, lost his balance and toppled over it. To add injury
to insult, he landed hard on his knees and cracked his chin on the seat, and a
few people nearby snickered at him, including Villandry.
Nevar shot Villandry a glare filled with
intent that he knew the vampire would clearly read. One more laugh out of him
and Nevar would make him intimately acquainted with something wooden and
pointy.
“I’m sorry.” The woman drew the glass back
to her, clutching it to her chest between her breasts.
He grimaced, clawed his way back onto his
feet, and huffed as he sat down. “Blood only makes it worse. Vicious cycle.”
She drank the rest of the glass in one go,
set it on the bar and pushed it behind her, where he couldn’t see it. He
appreciated that. It was better than shoving it in his face and taunting him
with it as she had a minute ago. She toyed with the belt of her robe, an
awkward edge to her body language, and Nevar surmised that he wasn’t the only
one having trouble not making an idiot of himself tonight.
Her head jerked up, her eyes leaping to
his, and she blurted, “What are you?”
Nevar leaned back, caught off guard by her
question and unsure how to respond. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”
Her smile bewitched him. There was a touch
of innocence in it. Purity that he found alluring, as if she could cleanse him
and make him good again. Impossible. The only way he could be good again was to
die and be reborn as an angel of Heaven, and he had no intention of letting
that happen. Heaven had tampered with his memories, controlling his actions.
They had taken his free will from him. He would never return to that place and
that life, under their control and unaware of how they played their angels like
pawns, erasing memories when it suited them, keeping them in order.
“I don’t know what I am. Perhaps I am like
you,” she said, luring him back to her, and he frowned at what she had said.
He shook his head. “Impossible. I was an
angel, and now I am a demon, and not by choice.”
She played with the belt of the robe again,
her black eyebrows dipping low and darkening her hazel eyes. “If you had a
choice, would you still be an angel?”
He pondered that. “I would want to be an
angel again to extinguish the evil inside me, but I have no desire to serve
Heaven again. I want to serve no master.”
She stared at her knees, her gaze distant
and her fingers paused against the material. She was still for so long that he
grew concerned and leaned towards her without thinking, reaching one hand out.
She spoke before he could lay it over hers,
her tone solemn and edged with pain, and he froze.
“I despise angels.”
He sat back and settled his hand on his
bare knee instead. “Why?”
She frowned and he expected her to bite out
something, and then her expression turned troubled and he sensed the panic
rising within her. Her eyes slowly widened, her eyebrows creeping upwards, and
she shook her head.
“I cannot remember.” Her gaze leaped to his
and her breathing quickened. “I cannot remember.”
He could sympathise. He had been there
himself, unable to recall events that people told him had happened and he had
been involved in. He reached out and touched the robe covering her shoulder,
his focus on the wound beneath.
“Did angels do this?”
She snarled and smacked his hand away, and
shot to her bare feet. She shoved him in the chest and backed off, her eyes
wild, filled with fear that flowed over him together with her power. It rose,
growing stronger and pressing down on him. The colourful lights in the club
flickered.
“I don’t remember,” she whispered on repeat
and clawed at her hair, drawing the long black strands back from her face,
tugging at them. “I want to remember.”
A light above the bar shattered, raining
blue glass down on the black top.
Everyone stopped to look at her and she
shook her head, curling into a ball.
Nevar did the only thing he could to get
their eyes off her.
He caught her right wrist, pulled her
between his thighs and wrapped his arms around her. He cupped her head with his
left hand and rubbed the small of her back with his right.
“Breathe,” he murmured into her hair,
closing his eyes as he felt her trembling. She smelled like dew, fresh and
clean and earthy. Pure. The scent of a cool summer morning.
She sucked down one breath and then
another.
“Slower.” He stroked her back, cursing
himself for enjoying the feel of her pressing against him. “In through your
nose and out through your mouth. Breathe like you’re filling your lungs up from
the bottom. Nice and slow.”
He couldn’t quite believe he was spouting
Liora’s hippy shit to his beautiful stranger.
She seemed to be embracing it though, and
it seemed to work for her just as it did for him. Each slow breath she took had
her power falling, the weight of it lifting from his shoulders. She released
her head and pressed her palms to his breastplate, and a foolish part of him
wished he wasn’t wearing his armour so he could feel her delicate hands on his
flesh. Her breath skated across his arm.
“I know a little about forgetting things,”
he said in a low voice destined for her ears only and kept stroking her back.
He couldn’t stop himself now. She was soft and warm beneath his calloused palm.
Tempting. “It can get a little too much to handle at times. You just have to breathe.”
She nodded, exhaled, and pushed back from
him. A sense of loss immediately engulfed him as she slipped from his arms,
placing some distance between them, and straightened her robe.
He lowered his hands to his knees and
searched for something to say, trying to come up with something that would make
him look good. Something reassuring. Women liked that sort of thing.
She swept her hair out of her face and
lifted her chin, looking him straight in the eye. “What do they call you?”
“They call me many things, and most of them
not complimentary.” He smiled at her formal way of asking. She leapt between
antiquated and modern so much that he was going in circles trying to figure out
how old she was. He held his hand out to her. “But you can call me Nevar.”
“Nevar,” she whispered and he liked how his
name sounded when it fell from her lips, spoken in her soft voice, edged with
warmth.
She reached out to take his hand.
A black vortex appeared off to his right.
Asmodeus stepped out of it, his expression stormy and dark, relaying his anger,
and his golden eyes locked on Nevar like a hawk’s on prey. The portal shrank
and Asmodeus advanced, the crowd parting for him. Every demon here knew of his
master. It was impossible to mistake him for anyone else as he towered above
them, his short black hair and golden eyes matching the Devil’s, and his
partial gold-edged black armour in place, protecting his hips and shins, and
leaving his chest bare.
“The King of Demons,” the woman whispered
with the same reverence as she had used to speak Nevar’s name and stared at
Asmodeus with wide eyes that were a little too adoring for Nevar’s liking.
Asmodeus paid her no heed, which spared him
from Nevar’s wrath.
He seized Nevar’s wrist and dragged him off
the stool, and Nevar fought him, clawing at his hand to get it off him. He was
damned if the bastard angel was going to drag him around and command him in
front of the female, belittling him.
“You will return to Hell, Nevar,” Asmodeus
said, the compulsion behind the words sinking claws into Nevar and dragging him
downwards, towards that realm.
He wasn’t strong enough to fight Asmodeus
or his commands when he was weak with hunger, but that wasn’t going to stop him
from trying.
He attempted to pull his arm free of his
master’s grip but Asmodeus tightened it, digging claws into his flesh and
spilling his blood. He fought him every step of the way as they headed towards
the exit. The female left the bar and followed, her gaze darkening by degrees.
“I will not go with you,” Nevar snapped. “I
will not return. It is time you did your duty.”
Asmodeus yanked on his arm and sent him
barrelling through the open door. He hit the damp tarmac and snarled over his
shoulder at Asmodeus. The wretched angel would pay for that.
Asmodeus loomed over him.
The female stopped a short distance away,
hovering near the entrance to Cloud Nine.
Nevar fought the change that threatened to
come over him and the need to fight Asmodeus burning inside him. A need that
would never die. He growled and flashed his fangs at Asmodeus. The male stood
his ground and glared at him, his lips compressed into a thin line and his arms
folded across his bare chest, as Nevar rose to his feet.
“You will return to Hell, Nevar.”
Asmodeus’s deep voice echoed around the walls, drawing a few glances from the
mortals in the queue for Cloud Nine.
Nevar shook his head, but he wasn’t
answering his master. He was answering the dark hunger inside him, the vile
need to surrender to his urges and act on his impulses. He refused. He wouldn’t
give in to them, not while the female was watching him.
He hated that part of him and how he felt
when it emerged.
Not just the way he changed
psychologically, craving violence and bloodshed despite not wanting to feel
such things. It was the physical changes he underwent that really sickened him.
The claws and the fangs, and how his skin turned the colour of shadows, and
most of all the horns that made his skull feel as if it would explode as they
emerged.
Asmodeus cast a black portal and the female’s
eyes darkened and she bared her fangs, her deadly gaze pinned on his master
now.
Was she going to attack him?
Asmodeus didn’t give Nevar the chance to
find out. He shoved Nevar into the swirling vortex and he landed in Hell, on
the black plateau on which Asmodeus’s ruined fortress stood, high above the
rest of the barren basalt wasteland.
He landed hard but was on his feet in an
instant, rushing back to the portal, a sliver of him filled with hope that the
female would step through the vortex too.
It shimmered.
He waited.
Asmodeus stepped through it and the
swirling black ribbons evaporated.
Nevar growled and cursed him in the demon
tongue.
His master gave him an unamused look. “You
are drunk. I have a way to sober you up.”
Nevar straightened, forgetting his desire
to correct his master and point out that he wasn’t drunk, at least not on
alcohol. Perhaps he was drunk on the female, intoxicated by her beauty and
innocence. All of that fell away though, drowned out by what Asmodeus had said and
his overwhelming reaction to it.
All angels suffered from intense curiosity
and he was no exception.
Asmodeus folded his arms across his broad
chest and crimson bled into the edges of his golden irises, a sign of the anger
that laced the incredible wave of power that swept over Nevar, battering him
fiercely enough that he had to plant one foot behind him to keep himself
steady.
“I sensed you leave Hell and went to the
chamber after dealing with the Devil on your behalf.”
Nevar took a step towards him, a trickle of
dread running through his veins. “What of the chamber?”
Had something happened to it while he had
been absent? The look in his master’s crimson eyes said that it had, and that
the Devil would be punishing both of them.
Asmodeus flashed his fangs on a black
snarl. “The chamber is dark.”
Nevar’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
“The destroyer has awoken.”
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Her Avenging
Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple
iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.
Find all the
links, a fantastic 6 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also how to
enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift
certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php
Books
in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:
Book 1:
Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers
About Felicity
Heaton:
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today
international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books.
In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action,
intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from
dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful
angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian,
J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will
enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and
wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong,
powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her
stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that
are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic
Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded
alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and
angels, then take a look at the new Her Angel series.
If you want to know more about Felicity,
or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/felicityheaton
Twitter: http://twitter.com/felicityheaton
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/felicityheaton
Another Great book by Felicity, Love, Love. Love all her Angels and that excerpt, I just Loved it especially the bit where Nevar says " You Fight Naked" that's just Epic. Great book!
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