Category Archives: paranormal romance

To celebrate the success of Her Dark Angel so far, I’m offering a 15% discount on the story on my website this weekend. To entice you all into buying and reading the story, here’s a two chapter excerpt for you to devour.

Her Dark Angel
by Felicity Heaton

An angel without a mission, Apollyon lives trapped in Hell guarding the bottomless pit. Surrounded by endless darkness, he longs to fly free on Earth once more but his master hasn’t called him in centuries. When the call finally comes, it’s to serve a new master, a beautiful woman he has often watched over, a woman who has always captivated him.

Serenity is shocked when a gorgeous black-winged angel shows up in her city of Paris claiming that she called him when she was only casting a simple vengeance spell. He’s no other than the angel of death! When Apollyon offers to obey her and help her have revenge on her cheating ex-boyfriend, she can’t resist the temptation, but can she resist him? Can an angel as dark as Apollyon ever fall for a mortal woman like her?

Their charade as lovers quickly becomes reality when one dance leads to another and Apollyon proves that he’s as sinful as he looks. His sensual and hungry touch brings Serenity back to life, freeing her from the hurt of being betrayed and reigniting her passion, but she can’t ignore her growing fear. Lost in their moment together, Apollyon realises that there is a reason he heard her call—he’s in love with her.

But will Serenity see past the wings and believe that Apollyon returns her feelings and won’t hurt her? When her ex-boyfriend asks her to forgive him and be with him again, will she take the easy route or will she find the courage to fly away with her dark angel?

Dark, passionate and sensual, Her Dark Angel is a tale of intense desire and deepest forbidden love guaranteed to get your heart racing.

Her Dark Angel is the first story in a three part series. All of the stories cross-over by characters and world only, not plot, so you’re free to enjoy them in any order. Keep your eyes peeled for Her Fallen Angel (coming October 2010) and Her Warrior Angel (coming November 2010)

Buy from my site and enter this discount code during checkout to receive 15% off: HDA15

Discount is valid until Monday 27th September 2010

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

The images in the bright pool flickered past Apollyon’s eyes at lightning speed but he could see them all, could bring each into focus and pause there a moment to understand what was happening in the scene. He had watched over the mortals since eternity began, had watched the world change and forget his kind.

No one believed in angels anymore.

And his master had not called him forth from the bottomless pit in Hell in many long centuries.

Yet Apollyon waited for the call to come, faithful and patient, committed to his duty even as others around him chose to live by their own commands. Many of his fellow warriors had softened and fallen for mortal women, their devotion wavering and their commitment altering to their love. He would do no such thing. He had no interest in mortals.

His dark blue gaze darted around the silvery pool, following the history it was recording, stopping a moment on images that interested him. Wars. Death. Bloodshed. It was something that never changed. One day, his master would call him and Earth would know the true meaning of destruction.

The pool cast pale light on him as he crouched near it with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands dangling in front of him. The intricate gold metalwork on the black greaves protecting his shins and the vambraces around his forearms caught the light and shone.

With a sigh, Apollyon unfurled his mighty black feathered wings and stood. He stretched, causing the chest plate of his armour to rise as he lifted his arms, and then stared up at the endless black above him. The fires of Hell burned at his back. Their smoke filled the cavern, making him long to go to Earth. It had been eternity since he had left the pit and spread his wings, breathing the refreshing air and feeling it beat against him. He ached to soar above the cities again, unseen and unknown, and to speak with the angels that walked on Earth and watched over the mortals.

He longed to be free of the choking fires of Hell.

Apollyon was about to turn away and go to the edge of the pit when his blue gaze caught on something in the pool. He frowned and crouched again. The long strands of his black hair fell forwards as he leaned over the pool and stared at the image he had stopped before him.

A lone female.

He often saw her. She liked to walk in the park alone these days and her expression was sometimes troubled, as though she bore a heavy weight on her heart. What was she thinking when she looked like that? The park wasn’t the only place that he had noticed her. He had seen her indirectly too, picking her out of a crowd or seeing her passing through an image that had interested him, and each time his gaze had followed her until she had disappeared from view.

She stood staring up at the Eiffel Tower, her back to him and the gentle breeze catching her short red dress and tousling her long fair hair. He didn’t need to see her face to know that it was her. No other mortal captivated him as she could.

Roses framed the view, obscuring much of her legs. He cocked his head to one side and ran his gaze over what he could see. He had never seen her dressed like this. She had always worn layers of clothing in the past, her legs covered and a thick black coat encasing her slender frame. The seasons had passed so quickly and he hadn’t noticed that it was almost summer on Earth. The image changed, panning up the height of the Eiffel Tower and he wanted it to go back to her until he saw the stretching blue sky above the top of the tower.

Apollyon reached out to the pool, desperate to touch that sky and feel the sun beating down on his wings as he flew.

The image drifted away, replaced with a succession of others that he had no interest in. It was summer. He stood and imagined flying in that blue sky and how exhilarating it would be. He imagined the whole of Paris stretched out below him. He had never been there but he knew it well from the images he had seen. What would it be like to see such a city?

To see such a female in the flesh?

He shook that thought away and reminded himself that he had no interest in mortal women.

If he didn’t, why did his heart stop whenever he saw her?

Apollyon looked back into the pool and then turned away from it. His duty was to his master. He had to remain here, guardian of the bottomless pit, suffering the acrid fires of Hell, until his master called him.

He laughed.

No one was going to call him. He was going to spend the rest of eternity trapped in his own personal Hell.

A dark curse rolled off his tongue and a noise like thunder rumbled in the distance.

A familiar feeling built inside him, a sense that someone was speaking his name. He listened, trying to hear the voice of his master, knowing he would be the one who called to him. It wasn’t clear.

He felt the call but couldn’t discern where it was coming from.

Apollyon grabbed his sword, buckled the sheath to his waist, and didn’t wait for the call to come again. This was his chance to escape Hell and he would take it. His master was calling him from somewhere. He had a mission again at last.

He spread his wings and with a single strong beat lifted into the air. The wind from them blew the dark smoke back and they raised him higher and higher, until he reached the ceiling of his prison and stretched a hand up to it. The black rock parted before him and he turned and flew upwards, faster now that he could see a crack of blue sky above him. Hundreds of feet of rock passed him at a blurry speed and he finally broke free into the fresh air. He shot upwards, his black wings beating furiously against the warm air, and didn’t stop until he reached the clouds.

Apollyon hovered there, casting his dark blue eyes over the world at his feet, the chill wind blowing through his long black hair. It was as beautiful as he remembered, more so in fact. The cities the mortals had built fascinated him. He swooped lower, searching for his mission and listening for his master’s call. What did he desire him to do? Apollyon would do anything for his master. He had destroyed many cities in his name and cast many sinners into the bottomless pit. He had even fought the Devil and defeated him.

He frowned when he saw the city.

Paris.

The desire to go to the Eiffel Tower and find the mortal female was strong but he resisted it and flew over the city, trying to find his master. The call was quieter now and difficult to locate. It burned within him, relentless and driving him to search, even when he was beginning to wonder if he would be searching forever and if this was just a cruel joke because he had cursed.

The Devil would do such a despicable thing. He had a strong voice and could throw it well. He had always promised Apollyon that he would pay for all the times he had cast him back into Hell.

Apollyon swooped lower, effortlessly cutting through the warmer air, delighting at the feel of it tickling his black feathers and washing over his skin. Turning, he dived down a side street, skimming low above the heads of the mortals, causing a wind to gust against them. He smiled when they shrieked and grabbed their clothes to keep them in place. It was wrong to take such childish pleasure from doing such things, but all angels had a tendency to misuse their invisibility.

A strong beat of his wings and he was soaring upwards again. He landed on the edge of the roof of an old pale stone building and looked across the city towards the Eiffel Tower. It speared the clear sky, surrounded by lush green at the base. He was about to fly there when he felt as though someone was speaking his name again.

Apollyon focused, frowning as he tried to discern the direction it was coming from. His gaze shot back to the Eiffel Tower. There?

He ran to the far edge of the building and leapt off, waiting until he was close to the flagstones of the square below before he unfurled his wings and beat them, shooting straight across the square only a few feet above the ground. He ducked and weaved through the people and came out over a grassy bank. The river was ahead and beyond it the Eiffel Tower. He flew straight for it and then came to an abrupt halt in mid-air when he heard the call again. It was behind him.

He scoured the people below. Was his master down there, amongst them, calling to him?

His master had several guises. Apollyon’s eyes darted over the mortals, stopping for barely a second on each face. None of them matched how he remembered his master.

The call came clearer this time, beating in his heart. His gaze shot in the direction it had come from and his eyes widened.

Her?

A fair-haired mortal female stood beside one of the fountains below, her back to him and the warm breeze playing with the short skirt of her dark red dress. The jets of water from the fountains sprayed high, the droplets catching the wind and settling on his skin when it blew towards him.

Apollyon frowned.

It had to be the Devil’s work.

He had been watching her, had cursed, and then she had called him. It was ridiculous. No mortal had the power to call an angel, and he had not had a different master since eternity began and the angels had made a pact with him.

Cautiously, Apollyon swooped down, closer to her, hovering bare metres above her head. Had she called him?

She raised a hand to her face and it lingered there. He couldn’t see what she was doing. Her shoulders heaved and a wave of sorrow and anger washed over him. She was hurting.

He landed mid-way along the bridge over the river behind her and stepped down off the wall, changing his appearance as he did so. His wings didn’t want to disappear and it took several strides towards her before he was sure the mortals wouldn’t see them and that his glamour was falling into place. He changed his clothes, replacing his armour with a fine black suit, with a black shirt and a dark blue tie, and then swept his long hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck in a ponytail.

Finally, he lifted the force that made him invisible to the mortal eye and walked casually towards her. He took the blue handkerchief from his pocket, stepped up behind her, and hesitated for only a moment before touching her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he said in French, hoping he had the right language and the right words. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time and although he knew modern languages, he had never used them.

She touched her face again, her long fair hair a curtain which he couldn’t see beyond, and sniffed. When she turned to face him, she was smiling. Her hazel eyes lit on the offered handkerchief at first and then slowly ran up his arm to his chest and then towards his face. She was more beautiful in the flesh, her features soft and her eyes round. She could be an angel herself. He hadn’t realised how much shorter than him she would be. She was at least a head shorter, and petite too.

The moment her gaze met his, her expression changed. Her hand stopped close to taking the handkerchief and horror filled her eyes.

“Get away from me.” Her French held a sharp note of panic and then she stormed towards the bridge.

Apollyon frowned, looked at the handkerchief, and then went after her.

She glanced over her shoulder and her pace increased. It was easy to close the gap between them. His strides were longer than hers and her little heeled sandals were clearly not made for a swift escape.

“Leave me alone.”

Why was she running?

People were staring, murmuring to each other. She was causing a scene and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“Get away from me!” She turned to face him and then backed away, the fear still bright in her eyes. They darkened when she frowned and spoke as though uttering a curse. “Abaddon.”

He hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

She knew he was an angel.

How? Had his glamour failed? It had been millennia since he’d had to cast one. He looked around them at the watching mortals. None of them looked afraid. If they could see an angel before them as she could, they would be reacting the same as she was. People would be screaming that the Apocalypse was nigh and the world was going to end. He would be in serious trouble with his master.

He remembered that she had called him. Could she see through the glamour? Was she different somehow to other mortals?

“I don’t want to die,” she muttered almost beneath her breath and cast a fearful look his way.

This wasn’t going as he had expected. She wasn’t supposed to have been able to see that he was an angel. She was supposed to have accepted his kind offer of a handkerchief to dry her tears and told him why she was crying so he could figure out what he was doing here and whether someone was playing a trick on him.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself, making herself small and making him want to reach out to her and somehow ease her suffering. Whatever pain had caused her to cry, it was still strong within her heart, tormenting her. He could feel it. There was some sort of connection to her that gave him insight into her feelings, a sense that she needed him and that they were supposed to have met here today.

It was ridiculous.

A mortal could never call him. They didn’t have the voice.

He had been alone too long and was dreaming all of this, seeing things as he wanted them and not with clear eyes.

There was only one way of finding out whether she had called him somehow. He had hoped to discover it through casual conversation but that wasn’t an option now. It was time for a more direct approach.

He stepped towards her and she backed away again, holding both of her hands out as though that gesture alone could stop him if he wanted to get to her.

“Please,” she whispered and shook her head, sending more tears tumbling down her pale cheeks.

“Leave her alone.” A burly man started towards him.

Apollyon lost patience and cast his hand out, waving it across the gathered crowd. “There is nothing interesting to see here.”

Their expressions went slack and they moved as one, drifting off and back into their own lives, moving past him and the mortal woman as though they weren’t even there.

“Oh God, you’re going to kill me.”

He frowned at her. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“It’s what you do.” There was accusation in her tone and a hint of bravery.

Courage in the face of death?

A moment ago, she had been fleeing him and now she looked ready to fight.

“I have not done such a thing in a very long time.” He sighed. It was never going to leave him. Spend a few centuries as the angel of death and no one forgets. Everyone presumes you’re still in charge of taking life’s final breath from mortals. Still, it was better than the other rumour that he was the Devil. “There is a fleet of angels who do it now.”

She didn’t look as though she believed him. Her hands trembled in front of her.

“I didn’t ask for my powers. Please don’t take me there.”

“Where?” His patience was wearing thin again and he seemed to be unable to get his question out into the open. He tracked back over what she had said.

Powers?

“All the fires of Hell are in your wake… I don’t want to go there. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Apollyon looked behind him. All he could see was Paris. The edge of the stone bridge and the murky river, and the city beyond.

“You are gifted.” He looked back at her, deep into her hazel eyes. She nodded. Was this how she had called him? He frowned and looked at the fountains at the other end of the bridge behind him and then at her. “What were you doing there?”

She looked past him, blinked a few times, and then her eyebrows rose. “Nothing really. Contemplating life, I guess, and how shitty it was.”

“You did not ask for anything?” He stepped closer to her and this time she didn’t back away. She kept staring at the fountain with wide eyes. Tears lined her dark lashes. All of her fear disappeared and the pain returned. She clutched her hands to her chest, and he felt the hurt well up inside her, overwhelming her.

“Revenge,” she whispered and her gaze darted to him. “I asked for vengeance against that cheating bastard.”

Cheating? A sinner?

She had called for vengeance and he had heard her, and he had felt compelled to answer and accept her mission. He couldn’t. Contracting with her would break the one between him and his master.

Apollyon looked at her, studying her pale beauty.

She had called him and he had come. She was his master now. He had accepted the mission and the contract the moment he had left Hell.

He was going to get into trouble for this.

It had been a while since he had been on Earth though, and although the angels who watched over mortals now tolerated the old sins and only took them into account at death rather than punished the sinner during their life, he did still hate some of them.

Infidelity in particular.

“Are you really here to kill me?”

Apollyon smiled and a hint of colour touched her cheeks. “You called me and I came to you, not to take your life but to ease your suffering.”

She swallowed and looked as though she was going to deny that she was in pain. Apollyon stepped up to her and touched her face. Her skin was warm, soft, and felt good beneath his fingertips. He caressed her cheek, placed his fingers under her chin, and raised her eyes to his.

“Whatever he did to you, I will make him suffer for it, but no man is worth such tears. Your heart will heal in time and you will love again.”

Her hazel eyes searched his.

Apollyon stared deep into them, feeling a strange warmth travel along his hand from where his fingertips touched her face. It chased through him and finally settled in his chest, burning there, stirring feelings that he had long forgotten existed.

“I will give you the revenge you seek.”

Those words were distant to his ears even though they issued from his lips.

He was lost in her eyes, in the way she was looking at him with so much warmth.

Was it gratitude that made her look that way?

Or was it something else?

“Are you a goddess?” he whispered, trying to keep his thoughts on track and on his mission.

She shook her head, moving his fingers with her, and licked her lips. He made the mistake of looking at them, watching the soft pink tip of her tongue sweep over them. A surge of hunger swept through him and he took his hand away, shocked by the strength of his desire and the suddenness of it.

“I’m a witch,” she said, matter of fact, with a little shrug.

Apollyon stared at her. Was he making a terrible mistake by helping her? A part of him said to leave now before it was too late and he became too deeply involved with her.

He couldn’t though.

She had cast a spell on him.

And he was a slave to her.

Chapter 2

Serenity’s hazel eyes went wide and she stepped back when the hulking mass of man standing before her drew the sword that hung at his waist, afraid that he had changed his mind and was going to kill her after all. She wasn’t sure what to think when he eased himself down onto one knee in front of her, lowered his head, and held his sword out to her, the hilt and tip of the beautiful blade resting on his palms.

“I am yours to command.” His French was perfect, making his deep voice so sexy that a shiver tripped over her skin whenever he spoke.

Was she supposed to do something?

People were staring again as they passed. What did they see? They certainly weren’t seeing a man offering a sword to her, that was for sure. To them, did he look as though he was kneeling with his hands raised in supplication?

Was he dressed in black and gold armour that didn’t leave much to the imagination?

Did he have huge black feathered wings?

She imagined that he didn’t. If he did, the people would probably be screaming rather than merely glancing at him as though he had gone insane.

“Erm, okay.” Serenity hesitated before touching the sword. The gleaming steel was cold beneath her fingers. She took her hand away, not liking the feel of it. “Thanks.”

He stood with grace, his muscles shifting beneath his golden skin, and she tried not to stare at his physique. Either he worked out a lot, or angels were naturally endowed with the body of a god. He was pure perfection as he stood close to her, his broad chest rising and falling, moving the beautifully decorated black breastplate. His stomach was bare, taut muscles delighting her hungry eyes, and the smallest black loincloth in the world protected his modesty.

Something that she was lacking. She lowered her gaze, taking in the toned length of his legs. They were as powerful as the rest of him. Her eyes roamed back up, over the black cuffs that covered his forearms, decorated in gold with images of lions, and over his biceps to his strong shoulders. From there, they wanted to go to his face, but his wings were too fascinating. They were large, casting a shadow across both him and her, tucked against his back.

She wanted to walk around him and investigate every delicious inch of him, taking in that he really was an angel and not a man parading as one.

An angel.

Abaddon.

Her mother had taught her gods, goddesses and mythology. She knew all about him and his kind.

Her eyes finally leapt to his face. He had a smile that could stop hearts and vivid blue eyes with icy flecks in them. They held her gaze, unwavering and strong, and her temperature rose when they narrowed slightly and his pupils widened. What was he thinking in there?

Did he like what he saw as much as she did?

The man was a god.

No, an angel.

And he was beautiful.

Breathtaking.

But he wasn’t at all as she had thought an angel would look. Everything about him spoke of darkness, right down to his aura. Whatever power he had, it was strong and it wasn’t the sort that resurrected mortals or healed them. It felt as though the opposite would happen if he unleashed it.

Abaddon. The angel of death. Although he had denied that title. What title did he claim as his then?

“So, Abaddon—”

“Apollyon,” he interjected with a charming smile that teased his sensual lips and made her heart beat a little faster.

He was an angel. No matter how good he looked and how much he was making her forget her pain just by looking at him, she couldn’t think about him like that. It was wrong of her. He had offered his assistance in getting revenge on her bastard ex and she was going to take it. Whatever dark power this gorgeous man had, she was going to let it rip in her ex’s direction.

“Apollyon?” She stopped her gaze from dropping down to take him in again. If she told him to put on something a little less distracting, would he be able to do it? She had seen through whatever spell he had used. Could he ever fool her eyes?

“I prefer my true name.” He cast a quick glance over her. His eyes lingered in all the places a mortal man’s would.

Surely, she was off limits too? Angels were asexual weren’t they?

The voice at the back of her mind said that the tall hunk of handsome standing in front of her definitely didn’t look asexual. He looked like sin incarnate, not like an angel at all.

“Serenity.” She offered her hand to him.

He took it and a jolt ran through her at the feel of his strong warm hand grasping hers. She shook his hand but he didn’t let go when she was done. He held it, his thumb resting lightly against hers.

“My mother thought I could bring peace to a chaotic world.” Her heart sped when his thumb grazed hers and then he took his hand back, his fingers brushing her palm and sending another shiver through her. “I’m not much good at it.”

“At what?” He quirked a dark eyebrow and tilted his head to one side.

Serenity sighed inside. Did he know how good he looked? Could angels be conceited? She supposed they were all beautiful so he probably didn’t realise that the reason all the women were staring as they passed wasn’t because they thought he was apprehending her or anything of the sort.

They were staring for the same reason she was.

The man was six feet plus of godliness.

“Being peaceful… I’m actually quite chaotic.” She shrugged. “Nothing I do comes out right. I mean… I thought I was casting a simple spell for vengeance and suddenly you’re here telling me that you heard me calling you. I wasn’t asking for an angel.”

“You weren’t.” He placed his palm flat against her chest and she jumped. Her pulse rocketed and she blushed from head to toe at the feel of his wrist against her breasts. “Your heart called me, not your words.”

Serenity smiled and nervously took hold of his hand and removed it from her chest before she lost control and threw herself at him.

“So you’re good with revenge?”

“Very good at it.” He stood taller, straightening to his full impressive height, looking even nobler and handsome. “I am Apollyon, the great destroyer, king of the bottomless—”

“Wait.” She cut him off and held her hands up. “Great destroyer? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I mean, you’re an angel and your boss-on-high would probably be a little upset if you blew up half of Paris to fulfil my wish for revenge, and I don’t want him dead… just in pain… and I can really take care of this myself. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It is little bother.” He frowned. “I will only do as you command. The choice of revenge will be yours and I will exact it.”

“What about your boss?” She didn’t want to piss God off. She was sure that he was already fairly angry that people like her existed on Earth, those that could use magic and make their own miracles.

Not that she had managed anything like that so far. She was better at lighting candles and the small stuff like love potions.

Serenity glanced up at Apollyon. Would a love potion work on an angel?

She cursed and told herself to get a grip. Angels probably couldn’t enter into relationships with mortals and this attraction to him was probably because she was rebounding.

“You are my master now.” The serious edge to his expression said that he wasn’t joking. “I do as you bid.”

Serenity’s eyebrows rose and she slowly absorbed the fact that she had her own personal angel.

“Then we should…” She wasn’t sure what they should do. Skulk off and plan something horrible to do to her ex because he’d cheated on her? It all felt a little cloak and dagger and not at all like her. She had never sworn revenge on anyone, had always let her anger go and just got on with her life. Not this time though. She wanted him to pay. “Do you drink coffee?”

“I have never tried it.” Apollyon smiled. “But I have been told by others that it tastes strangely bitter and sweet at the same time, and has an interesting effect on the body. I would like to try it.”

“Coffee it is.” Serenity led the way towards the fountains and Apollyon came up to walk beside her.

She really hoped that people weren’t seeing him as she was.

“What do you look like to them?” She looked at a few people to make her point.

“A man dressed in a black suit.”

“No wings?”

He shook his head. “Do not worry. It is only you who are unaffected by the image I project.”

“Can it affect me?”

He stopped and looked at her. The breeze tousled his fine long black hair, teasing the strands of his ponytail.

“You wish not to see me as I am?”

When he said it like that, it made her feel bad. His blue eyes darted between hers, as though he wanted to see the answer in them before she said it.

“No.” She stepped towards him. Her heart beat faster again and her palms sweated. She took a deep breath and smiled up at him. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

The wind blew again, catching her blonde hair and sweeping it across her face. She started when he brushed the strands from her face, smoothing them behind her ear, and his fingertips caressed her cheek as he trailed his hand off her. Did he know what he did to her with that touch? What just looking at him did to her on the inside? She kept telling herself that he was an angel and he was off limits, but her body wasn’t getting the message. It burned to feel his hands on her, to feel his lips against hers and have him hold her close.

It was insane. She had only just met him and she wasn’t usually the sort who threw herself at men. Her ex, Edward, had pursued her for months before she’d finally given in and agreed to a date with him, let alone anything else.

Now she was ready to throw herself into the arms of an angel and pray that he caught her and kissed her just as she wanted him to.

“He really hurt you,” Apollyon whispered.

Serenity blinked and her desire deflated at the thought of what Edward had done to her. She really had to clear her head of whatever ridiculous attraction she felt to Apollyon because it wasn’t going to happen.

She started walking again, not waiting for him to follow. She needed a moment to breathe. Since setting eyes on him, her head and heart had been at war and she had to give them both a reality check. Apollyon was here to help her get revenge and that was all. She couldn’t throw herself at him, or make a move, or do anything that would only end in her getting her heart broken again or winding up as miserable as Edward had made her.

“I said something wrong?” Apollyon strode beside her, his long lithe legs making easy work of her hurried pace.

She was quiet a moment, lost in her thoughts, her gaze drifting over the white stone buildings that lined the narrow street.

“No.” She moved through the crowd at a busy intersection, crossed the road and then walked along another narrow road to the street where her favourite café was. “It just caught me off guard. I mean, I get this sense that you know what you’re talking about… as though you… it’s silly.”

“Can feel it?”

She stopped dead outside the café and looked back at him.

He stood a few paces behind her, his black wings still tucked against his back and the gold decoration on his black armour reflecting the sun.

She nodded.

He walked up to her and looked into her eyes. “I can feel it. It is part of the reason I agreed to help you. You do not deserve such pain. You always seemed so happy until recently.”

“You’ve been spying on me?” It came out louder than she’d meant it to.

A couple of well-dressed dark-haired women sitting at one of the round tables in front of the café looked her way and then started talking in hushed voices.

“I am an ang—” He frowned when she slapped her hand over his mouth. His warm breath bathed her skin, tickling her and sending a shiver dancing up her arm.

Serenity snatched her hand back. “I don’t think that’s a good word to use in public.”

“We all watch. It is what we do.”

She grimaced. That had probably sounded even worse. The two women were deep in conversation now, furtively glancing at her and Apollyon. They probably thought she had a harem of stalkers.

Serenity grabbed Apollyon’s hand and dragged him into the small café. It was quieter inside, only a few people at the small round wooden tables and in the armchairs. She chose a spot away from everyone, near the window, and sat Apollyon down in a low brown armchair next to a small table.

“Wait here,” she said and hoped that he would.

What had she gotten herself into?

Serenity ordered the coffees and looked over at Apollyon while she waited for them to come. He was sitting looking out of the window. Watching the world go by? Did angels really do that? If he said they did, then they probably did all watch over the mortals.

He shifted his shoulders, frowned and then his black wings unfurled, sending a breeze through the room that had people grabbing their papers, napkins and anything else that had tried to escape in the wind.

Serenity stared open-mouthed at the sight of him. He sat with his black feathered wings outstretched behind him, almost reaching back to the other side of the room. How big was his wingspan? Each wing was at least eight feet long.

She grabbed the coffees when they arrived, went back to him, and sat in a daze in the armchair opposite him, staring at his wings.

Apollyon shifted his shoulders and his wings furled again, the longest feathers curling around and grazing his boots.

“I needed to stretch,” he said with an apologetic look and then smiled. “It has been a long time since I have had so much freedom. It feels good to stretch my wings.”

She bet it did. He looked like the cat that got the cream, smiling ear to ear, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“What does it feel like to fly?” she said before she could even consider what she was asking.

His smile widened. “Bliss. The wind on my face, the feel of it in my feathers, and the way I can see everything and go anywhere. There is no feeling like it.”

“It sounds nice. I’ve flown… in a plane… but it’s still flying, right? Something in common.”

“Would you like to fly?”

Was he offering to take her up? The thought made her stomach feel tight but something inside her made her nod.

“I am sure we can do something about it.”

He picked up the white mug of coffee and raised a dark eyebrow at it. He sniffed it first, peered at the frothy top, and then took a sip.

His feathers quivered and his eyes widened, darting to hers. “What drug is in this?”

Serenity picked up her own mug of latte and sipped. “It’s not really a drug. It’s caffeine, a natural stimulant. Humans are addicted to it.”

He eyed the mug suspiciously. “A stimulant?”

He looked as though he was going to take another sip and then set it back down on the round table between them. His gaze met hers again and his pupils dilated until his irises were almost as black as them. He shifted uncomfortably and crossed his legs, settling his hands in his lap.

“I do not think I should drink any more. It would be unwise.” His voice was tight and the unmistakable spark of desire in his eyes wasn’t going anywhere. “I will be having words with my fellow warriors when we next meet. They did not explain the effects well enough.”

Effects? She looked down at his hands in his lap and then back into his dark eyes.

Viagra for angels?

“I thought you were all asexual,” she blurted and then covered her mouth when he turned horrified eyes on her. She blushed ten shades of crimson and tried to think of a spell that would take back what she’d said. It probably wouldn’t work on him anyway. Magic didn’t affect gods and goddesses, so it was unlikely to affect other supernatural beings.

“I am not asexual.” The way he said it made it clear that he would be happy to prove it to her right now in the coffee shop.

Serenity gulped her drink and kept her focus on it, avoiding the smouldering look he was giving her and wanting to crawl under the table and hide.

“I have not had a woman in many centuries but I am in no way an impotent creature.”

Did he have to say it loud enough for the whole coffee shop to hear? She sunk into her chair, trying to avoid the looks she was getting.

“I take it back,” she whispered into her mug and peered at him over the rim of it.

He glowered, passion no longer reigning in his eyes. A dark malevolence shone there and the sense that he wasn’t exactly a good angel in the way she had imagined them returned.

“Some people say you’re the Devil.”

He leaned back into his chair and sighed. “First I am the angel of death, and now the Devil? The rumours do spread and stick, don’t they?”

“What are you then?” She emerged from her mug, sat forwards on the edge of the armchair seat and looked him over. He was sin made flesh, luscious in every way imaginable, and she was sure that angels weren’t supposed to be so tempting.

“I told you. Apollyon, the great destroyer… angel of the Apocalypse, responsible for raining hell down on Earth when everything comes to an end.”

That wasn’t comforting at all.

“You’re not a good angel then?”

He smiled and there was a sexy sort of darkness in his look. “I am good, if by that you mean I do not work for the Devil, but I can be very bad.”

She could imagine. She shouldn’t be, but she was picturing him in every position possible and he looked wicked from every angle.

“So what does my mistress command?” His smile held. Something about it made her feel as though he was encouraging her to say the things that were raging through her head.

What didn’t she want to command? She couldn’t though. She was sure that it was wrong to order an angel to commit sin. For now, while her conscience was still functioning and she could resist the temptation sitting across from her, she would focus on getting her revenge.

“Nothing involving death. I want him to suffer. I want him to feel jealous and hurt and unloved… as though he doesn’t matter to me.”

Apollyon smiled as though he liked the sound of that.

She held his blue gaze. What she was going to propose was crazy, and would shatter what little restraint she had around him, but she was going to do it.

“I have a plan.”

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