Table of Contents
DESTINY STRIKES
Introduction and Glossary
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
EPILOGUE
DESTINY STRIKES
THERESA FLOWERS-LEE
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
DESTINY STRIKES
Copyright©2015
THERESA FLOWERS-LEE
Cover Design by Fiona Jayde
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
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Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-61935-911-6
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The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book belongs to anyone who believes strongly enough in something to see it through. Take my husband, for instance. He never believed one statement “You should be able to write a book with as many as you’ve read,” would lead me to writing one. Destiny Strikes is also for my children who did not let me forget that they came first. Then there is a special “ole hoot” by the name of Maxton Chrisco. Sometime a simple thank you will never be enough in this life. Mary Ball, you know why I say writing consists of pushing, praying, kicking, and crying.
Introduction and Glossary
The dawn of man awakens. 2000 years later. Earth and its two human occupants flourished. Some angels looked upon the creation with pride, while others did so with jealousy. Thus, whispered rumors of unrest and dissention began to spread. One thoughtless action in the Garden of Eden spurred a ripple effect no other angel foresaw. Not only would humanity need a savior, but Anglicans alike.
Earth—One of the last planets created by the Omnipotent. A place chosen to house His greatest creations. Mankind.
Humans—The recipients of gift no other creature had: Souls.
Heaven—Hidden amongst planets. A dimension never seen, unless dead or an angel. Also, believed as interchangeable as a person’s thoughts. Before humankind and their complex, but colorful way of thinking, angels just saw it as serviceable. Times have changed, but Heaven will never be earth to some.
Angels—Heavenly beings of great beauty, height, and strength. Their massive wings, a gift to angels after man came into existence. The Creator felt the birdlike extensions would gentle their presence amongst the newly awakened life form.
Angelic Ranks—A designation assigned to those closest in worthiness and power to The Creator. After the Fall of Lucifer, many branch off to become lesser gods.
First Class-Archangel—Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and others stand at the forefront of battle. Known for massive gilded white wings and battle hardened physics. Completely black eyes hold the light of many stars within their depths. This class maintained order over other planets and the horrible creatures spawned by Death. Death was of unknown origins just as The Creator that breathed Life.
Second Class—Seraphim—Angels of equal beauty, yet less strength and wing size, the chosen mates to archangels. Recognized by honey-colored feathers interspersed into wings and solid black eyes. Second to defend Heaven if needed. Also played a major role in battling Lucifer, and his followers, after the uprising.
Third Class—Nephilim—Possessing what other angels deemed leftovers. Their violet eyes and quiet natures separated them from being warriors of heaven. Most remembered in Heaven for the severest punishment dealt their kind for literally screwing with humans. Many are familiar with the story of Lucifer and his efforts to break free of his darkness. Not of the Nephilim Orion and the lengths an angel will go for revenge.
Sortaneph—(Sort-of-a-neph)—-Tainted offspring—Not of pure blood and remains undocumented or recognized in Heaven. Believed to be mongrels of Nephilim lusts and various births.
Angelic Tome—A book recording the life of all angels. Those who have followed the chosen path an all who have Fallen. In this book, like that of the human Bible, holds a prophecy. A destiny that only time can alter.
(The Angels, which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, He hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.)
KJV . . . Jude verse 6.
Prologue
Outside East of Eden Walls
Not mere seconds ago, the hunt held Orion in its exhilarating grip. Now, flat on his back, merciless pain beat at his mind. Single-handed, on the new planet his father called Earth, and littered with giant beast aplenty, he’d been mortally wounded by the tiniest of creatures. A scorpion. The instrument of Orion’s slow death no doubt laced with the potent venom designed to kill one of Orion’s kind coiled, whip-tight.
The insect no longer feared Orion’s wrath as the black hard-shelled body crawled within striking distance of his left hand.
Turning away in disgust, moisture trekked down Orion’s cheek as senseless humor swelled inside him. Orion, the mighty hunter of mere moments before, had surged from the thick stand of trees beyond his peripheral into open skies. Exhilarated by triumph as his arrow sank into the flesh of his prey and naïve to the danger that stalked him.
Vision dimming, acceptance and fear fought for supremacy as his eyes settled on the broad chest of the beast, large as a small mountain. One mighty heave preempted the leathery nostrils flaring, as it expelled its last breath.
Orion suppressed dread as gut-wrenching anger burned his belly.
Thoughts sifting as sand in a bottle and time running out, a question of ‘w
hy’ plagued him. Could his enemy be among the angelic ranks?
Seething, one name came to mind for this crime.
Apollo.
The cowardly snake would think this travesty of a death befitted Orion for loving Artemis. Beloved sister of Apollo. The ravened-haired wench none other besides Orion had conquered.
Challenging the foolish piss-ant and thoughts of standing against Orion in guarding her virginity, Apollo failed miserably.
For Artemis Orion writhed in pain.
Pain arose, as mighty as the sun above. Lids affixed, Orion wanted to scream away liquid fire and waves of tortuous flames as the venom spreading through his body.
He would die with his hatred intact.
Breaking through the wall of pure hell his body had become, his eyes slowly opened. Teeth clenched. Jaws beset by a pain sheer will demanded in a bid for more time. He was Nephilim. Third-ranked descendant angel, but still powerful.
Orion vowed he’d find revenge even in death.
Savoring what was to be his last moments of warmth from glorious rays above him, strands of unshorn hair lifted. Then another gentle breeze whispered over him cooling the sheen that coated his face.
Bitter death inched closer.
Unable to voice his rage, his innermost vow became a mantra. “One day. I will have revenge.”
All of a sudden, a voice pitched low and soothing as the Master’s harp commanded him. “Silence.” Even though he’d never spoken a word aloud.
Distracted, envisioning the demise of the person responsible for this cowardly form of death, Orion belatedly realized he was no longer alone.
Unable to move any part of his body but his eyes, he couldn’t see the newcomer. However, reminiscent of heavenly moments between Artemis’s thighs, the rapture of pure peace suffused Orion. Then the gentle caress of the stranger’s breath grazed his ear-lending succor as the poison pretty much fulfilled its mission. His heart stuttered.
“Orion. My child. As with all my creations, you are my greatest treasure. I, as well as others in heaven, have come to know of thy exploits. You have not been greedy in taking more than I provided, than was given. In thee, you have my deepest gratitude. And so, thou actions have earned a reprieve from death.”
The strokes of gentle fingers lingered on his face and gently lifted the irritating strands of golden hair that settled within the whites of his unblinking eyes and stung. Brushed away with a tenderness that made Orion want to weep.
Yet, slipping further into the throes of death, he was not stupid. Time among the humans had taught him much. For every blessing came a curse.
Still unable to air his concern aloud, the voice spoke as if heard.
“From this day forward, forever more, your rest will be found among the stars. Awakened to do my bidding as vital resources for humanity’s survival becomes endangered or nears depletion. Your weapons are those that have seen you through this life. Thy arrows from your bow strike with deadly accuracy. Thy bronze club rattles any foundation. Your warriors cry shall topple the tallest mountains. The sword will become as a fire hotter than any sun. However, the tears shed at what you must do will flood lands.”
“This is to be thy new destiny.”
Joy, confusion and trepidation followed the ordaining, before he could even question what perversely sounded like guardianship over earth.
“There is yet one more thing I must impart.”
Orion’s heart near gave up the ghost with The True One’s next statement. There wasn’t an expletive to describe what he felt.
“The children you have left behind will suffer greatly as this world fully matures.
Orion’s mind raced. He sorted through various memories that comprised his life. Through all of his recollections, he knew no such woman who’d taken seed from one of his tuppings.
The dire proclamation had to be a mistake.
Eyesight dimming, he quaked in a final bid for life. “Thou took a woman of deep pain and vengeance of heart. She now plots against you. I cannot interfere. I am truly sorry, my son, because your offspring share your fate. You will restore Earth in her time of need. The fruit of your seed’s judgment condemns Heaven and Earth.”
CHAPTER 1
Present Day
July 31, 2014
Cascade, Seattle Washington
Screw dreams!
Fallon Strikes had waited a thousand years for the impossible only to be awakened in the wee hours of the morning extremely horny and aching for a release long denied.
With dawn arriving just beyond her kitchen window, Raven struggled to recall every detail of the distant dream. Fallon sucked in a harsh breath as she opened her mind awash with every sensation along for the ride. Hands curled over the edge of the countertop and a shiver ran the length of her spine. The sharpest stab of need ever warranted from a longing that went deeper than mere human connection crashed through her lower abdomen.
She exhaled a keen moan, reliving her kiss-swollen lips being inches from the man in her dreams.
Funny. Within seconds of waking, everything but what his face looked like was vividly clear.
Fallon even remembered the sensations of her hands clenching beside two powerful biceps, and her finger sinking further into cottony wisps of moisture, the lightest touch of fluff caressing her palms. She’d fisted her fingers around the surprisingly sturdy puffs of air then turned one hand over. A faint sheen of moisture clinging to the surface. Odd.
She frowned as her palm tingled, sizzled, and popped as it had in the dream. Similar, but on a much smaller scale, to how a steady current of electricity danced on water.
Another interesting facet of her late-night fantasy was the endless obsidian backdrop streaked with intense flashes of webbed lightning, but that paled in comparison to the hedonistic feel of the male reaching up past her shoulder and claiming the nape of her neck. The mystifying milieu became forgotten as his tongue traced the seam of her compressed lips. His other hand engulfed her breast.
Her spine arched to feed him more.
Sensation so real, moisture gathered at the thought of her sheath rocking against solid abs and her thighs clenched and shuddered as they pressed into the flesh of his upper body. Then there was the feel of his masculine hands locked on her hips. Strong fingers flexing at her hips.
The pain from her granite kitchen countertop cutting into her palm and several deep breaths later, she forcibly pushed the image from her thoughts. Fallon groaned for different reasons at what had come next.
Thunder boomed and lightning cracked in rippling waves inside her dream world. Words, not her own, had emerged from the storm around them.
“Kill him.”
“No!”
Minutes had passed without reply after her denial.
Encouraged that her imagination had an imagination she’d continued to adore the body beneath her when the hardened member wedged against her nether lips, bucked.
Caught up in the moment, she’d pushed the strange voice, weird setting, and violence of the storm overhead from her mind.
She’d lifted her hips and aligned the bulbous mushroomed cockhead with her dripping entrance. Inch by delicious inch, he’d penetrated walls never breached.
“Destroy,” whispered out of the turbulent depths again.
Unlike before, the request hadn’t been easily dismissed the second time around. A malicious and oily-like darkness had suffocated any thoughts to resist again. With a will of its own, her hand withdrew from the steely flesh of the man who’d complete her and reached for something above her. Metaphorically poised at the brink of heaven and hell, another sizzling Crack delivered a bolt of lightning right into her hand. She’d captured pure electricity as it snapped and popped within her grasp.
Riveted by the fact she’d actually h
eld a lightning strike, instead of wielding it, she’d grinned with silly glee into his unblinking violet gaze. Other than the weird eye color, she now remembered. The odd smile that spread across her dream lover’s firm lips never disappeared, even as she’d driven the elemental spear into his chest.
“Damn it to Hell and back,” Fallon shrieked, smelling smoke. “Fucking dreams.”
She shook out her hand, more from habit than actual pain, swiping the destroyed toaster off the kitchen counter and into the sink.
She despised everything about ungoverned electricity. Even if she was the one supposed to govern it.
What a waste. Looking over burnt toast, toaster, and power socket. Triple damn.
Fallon released a huge sigh. Her nose scrunched and flared over the scorched stench. The water she doused the toaster in helped clear some of the smoke.
Hands palm down and gripping and the counter, she surveyed the damage, then hung her head in defeat.
For the past month, she’d been haunted by the same damn dream. Incredible sex. Mystery man. Dark, overwhelming desire to kill him.
Wallowing in self-pity, she wondered what it’d be like to possess one of her brothers’ gifts.
Rafael, Michael, Avedon, and Wallace, competently manipulated Earth’s most basic elements: Water, Air, Fire, and Earth . . . But, joke on her, the Creator chose her to be the freak of the family.
Heart hardened, she snorted with disgust over the legacy that tainted and cursed her family. The once-proud Nephilim race. The darling other half of the family tree she also blamed for her troubles.
Destroyed in one fell swoop for touching forbidden fruit . . . Humans. The big no-no.
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