by Brandi Evans
Praise for Brandi Evans
“…Brandi Evans takes the age-old battle between the pleasure of the flesh and the soul to erotic heights."
The Pen & Muse Reviews
“Ms. Evans created a very sexy story that will keep your heart pounding.”
Literary Nymphs Reviews
“Ms. Evans has created characters so real it feels as if you could meet them walking down the street.”
Whipped Cream Reviews
Tempted
Brandi Evans
Tempted by Brandi Evans
Copyright © 2020 by Brandi Evans
Cover by Premade Ebook Cover Shop
This eBook is not transferable. It cannot be resold, shared or given away because that will be considered an infringement of the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations for review purposes.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to www.BrandiEvansAuthor.com and learn more about purchasing your own copy.
To my beta readers:
Tiffany, Jackie, Etta, and Cassandra, thanks for your kind words and suggestions during this novel’s creation. You helped make this story better.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the Author
Also by Brandi Evans
One
Seth didn’t know which was worse. Spending eternity in hell or working his way out of damnation by becoming a murderer.
Okay, in his defense, he technically wasn’t a murderer, at least not in the terms mortals used. He had, however, been responsible for the termination of more lives than he could count—all in the name of finding redemption. And no, the irony wasn’t lost on him, but at the moment, he didn’t have time to contemplate his penance. He was on the clock.
Franklin Michaels jogged around the bend. Each footfall brought him closer and closer to Seth.
To death.
With the dropping temperatures, the coastal park in Redemption Harbor, Maine, was all but deserted. Seth was grateful for the privacy. Not because he feared his target might see him—the job was easier if Seth didn’t think of his victims by name—but because this termination necessitated solitude. The target had to die alone. No exceptions.
Why? Because his bosses, the Angels of Death, deemed it so. And Seth’s job wasn’t to question but to do. To fulfill his obligations without emotion and with as little deviation from the plan’s parameters as possible. Simple.
Ha! There was nothing fucking simple about carrying out a person’s death, even a scumbag like this one.
For reasons Seth didn’t understand, this asshole hadn’t been slated for termination two years ago when he’d had his first heart attack—with the coronary Seth would cause tonight being the second. No, fate had allowed him an additional two years of blessed breath. Time to see his daughter get married, to see his son welcome his own child into the world.
To rape four more women.
He’d beaten one woman with such animalistic rage that she’d later succumbed to her injuries. Another had died by her own hand when she could no longer withstand the black void Michaels had punched into her soul.
Seth hovered toward the target. A lone spiritual “touch” was all it would take to send this bastard into a lethal episode of cardiac arrest and straight to hell where he belonged. Seth reached out and—
“Son of a bitch! I’m gonna set a blowtorch to your ass and turn you into a goddamn sculpture!”
Seth pulled back. Curiosity had him turning toward the furious, yet sultry, female voice, a strikingly odd combination.
Just off the main road near the park entrance, a woman stood with her back to him as she kicked the shit out of a hybrid car’s tire. White smoke billowed from the vehicle’s engine. Caught in the soft glow of the streetlight above, she ran her fingers through long chestnut hair that had just a hint of auburn undertones, as if she’d spent much of the previous summer camped out on one of the nearby beaches. No pants protruded from the hem of her dark, calf-length jacket. The skin of those toned legs set off a creamy contrast to her coat—so okay, maybe no long hours spent on the beach.
Wild thoughts flashed through his mind as he wondered what she wore beneath that jacket. A dress? A skirt? Would the material cling to her body like a second skin? Or would it fit loose while still managing to show off the curves he could too easily envision?
Or maybe she wore nothing at all?
Concentrate, he scolded. You’re here on a job.
Seth turned to his mark, but the mark was gone.
Damn it. Seth opened his mind, searching out and instantly finding the target. Up the walk, he’d folded himself into the shadows, his dark arousal filling Seth’s being like onions wrapped in ripe gym socks. Beautiful-Potty-Mouth was exactly this animal’s type. A pretty little brunette who was all alone. The Guardian in Seth would be damned if he’d let the fiend hurt her. Not on his watch.
Yet even as the noble notion entered his mind, so did the warning against intervention. Death Code and Angelic Code both forbade interference in the affairs of mortals, except by Divine Order. Seth had one purpose here tonight. To make sure his target died in the manner his bosses foresaw. No more. No less. To disregard the Code was to risk all hope of ever returning home.
To assure his banishment would, indeed, be for eternity.
Still, he moved toward his target. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the other man was doing: stalking. Dark anger welled inside Seth. How was he supposed to sit back while this creep raped and possibly killed an innocent? If Seth killed the target now, before he made his move—
Beautiful-Potty-Mouth turned from the car—toward Seth—and something happened that he hadn’t experienced since he’d lost his wings.
His soul stirred.
Seth stood rooted to the spot. Beautiful-Potty-Mouth’s hair framed a delicate heart-shaped face that, quite possibly, might haunt him well into the next two millennia.
She scanned the area. Looking for danger? Smart girl. She couldn’t see him while he was cloaked in an Angel of Death’s powers. After a long moment, she started toward him. No, not toward him, but to the phone booth in the corner of the parking lot. He cocked his head to the side as he watched her. Who didn’t have a cell phone in this day and age?
She passed within inches of him, the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle filling his senses and reminding him of the vanilla orchid fields in Brazil where he liked to meditate. Only her scent was four billion times more alluring and oh-so-much sexier.
Beautiful-Potty-Mouth stopped in front of the booth and looked heavenward. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. You fucking piece of horseshit!” She hit the side o
f the enclosure. Seth was surprised she didn’t kick it too. “You’re as useless as the goddamn car.”
Seth moved closer to see what had caused her ire. With cell phones commonplace, many booths now sat empty. This was one of them.
“I couldn’t help but notice your car’s broken down and you have no way of calling for help.”
She froze at the sound of the deep male voice.
Michaels.
Shit! Seth had been so completely captivated by the woman that the target had slipped his mind. Again.
Seth turned to his mark as the man crept from the cover of shadow and skulked forward. His eyes were round with the dark desire of a predator about to strike, and because Seth had let himself be distracted, he’d missed his window. The target had to perish alone; it couldn’t happen with a witness. Seth could no longer intervene.
Acting now would assure his eternal banishment from Heaven.
Still, he eased forward as the woman backpedaled and oh-so discreetly fisted her hands around her keys so that they jutted between her clenched fingers like spikes. “Actually,” she said, fear and apprehension mingling to deepen her voice, subtle but present. “I’m meeting some friends here. I just got here a little too early and realized I’d forgotten—”
“And your car always smokes like that?” Michaels kept moving toward her.
“Yes… I mean, no. I mean…”
She flashed a reserved smile, as if attempting to hide the undercurrent of terror taking control. No, not terror. Resolution. Suddenly, she looked as if she were about to attack.
Hmm…
“You wouldn’t happen to have a phone I could borrow, would you?” she asked, keeping her voice light. “I’d like to call my boyfriend and let him know my car crapped out again. He’s very protective.”
Michaels returned her grin. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have a cell phone.”
Liar. The bastard had put his cell in his glove box before he’d gone on his run. I should have taken you then. If only there hadn’t been so many people around.
Beautiful-Potty-Mouth worried her bottom lip between her teeth. For one insanely stupid second, Seth found himself considering conjuring a phone and showing himself so he could let her use it, but he squelched the thought even as it entered his mind. To show himself to a human without Divine Order would land him a one-way ticket back to hell. And this time, it would be permanent.
She glanced back in the direction she’d come. That’s it, sweetheart. Turn and run. As soon as you’re gone, I’m free to terminate this bastard.
“Okay, then,” she murmured, “I’ll just go back up to the road and wait for my boyfriend. He’s a cop. He just won a sharpshooting competition. That’s what we’re celebrating tonight.”
Okay, there might be a boyfriend, but Seth doubted he was a cop. And a sharpshooting competition? Please.
“How about you let me give you a ride?” Michaels suggested, turning up the “charming” smile that must have fooled other women. He motioned toward the parking lot. “I promise I don’t bite.”
No, you violate.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure my boyfriend’s already out looking for me. I’ll go wait in my car.”
“Like I said, it’s no problem at all.” Michaels took her by the elbow. “This way—”
She jerked her arm free. “Back off, creep!”
Michaels grabbed her again, tighter than before, and Seth recognized the look in the other man’s eyes: unadulterated evil.
“This way.” Michaels wrenched her toward the parking lot, an easy task considering the woman’s petite stature. She didn’t look as if she weighed much more than one-ten.
“Let. Me. Go!” the woman screamed, but no one was around to help her—no one except Seth.
Forbidden, he reminded himself.
A tragic epiphany sliced through him. Maybe dying tonight by Michaels’s hands was her destiny?
The idea turned Seth’s stomach, but he had to find out. He opened his mind and scanned the area. Nothing. No angels, no demons, no death workers. He relaxed a degree. Her physical death might not be imminent. But dying inside after being raped? Totally different story.
The woman dug her heels into the ground. She punched Michaels’s arm with her key-fisted hand, using much more strength than her tiny stature seemed capable of producing, and Michaels stumbled backward.
“Bastard!”
She rammed the butt of her opposite hand into his nose, and her knee crushed into his groin. Michaels dropped, hands grasping his family jewels, and doing a perfect roundhouse kick, she nailed him across the face with shoes not designed with self-defense in mind.
Michaels writhing on the ground, she turned and ran toward her car. “Try picking on someone your own size next time, ass-wipe,” she called over her shoulder.
Seth smiled as he watched her go. Wow. Just…wow. The Divine had used an interesting model when He’d created that one. Beauty combined with a killer body. Literally. The type of woman who could too easily bring Seth to his knees, and he’d be damned if he let another woman ruin him.
Michaels’s groan turned into a low snarl. He rolled to his stomach, blood smeared on his face and, with slow deliberation, pushed to his feet. “Fucking bitch,” he mumbled, picking up a softball-sized rock and starting after the woman.
She had almost reached the street. A semi sped by, giving Michaels perfect auditory cover for his quick-moving approach. He covered the distance separating them in seconds and prepared to strike.
A streetlight shined over the pair, illuminating the scene in ghastly hues so that Seth could see everything perfectly. And he snapped. Forbidden or not, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—stand by while that monster attacked her.
He dropped his cloak and took on human form. “Watch out!” he shouted, sprinting forward to help.
Michaels turned toward Seth, shock tightening his features.
Without a second’s hesitation, Beautiful-Potty-Mouth twirled around and landed a hard elbow against Michaels’s ribs. The bastard dropped the rock and stumbled over a curb. Then, she leveled him with another kick and sent him tumbling down the shallow ravine bracketing the park entrance.
Defeated and outnumbered, Michaels limped away into the night.
“Are you all right, miss?” Seth asked, careful not to get too close. He didn’t want her whaling on him next.
She nodded and fixed her fists on her hips, still super-defensive. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. At six-foot-nine in his physical body, not many humans rivaled Seth’s build, but his size couldn’t be helped. Forcing his non-corporeal being into a tiny human body wasn’t easy; as a result, the bodies were just bigger.
Her expression flashed from I had this, dude to Oh my God, you’re fucking huge. “Yeah, I’m fine. That SOB just didn’t know when to stay down.”
Seth laughed. That SOB? She didn’t strike him as the kind to curb her language for anyone. Did she think he’d be offended? “It’s a good thing I came along when I did then.”
She pointed to the overhead light. “I’d seen his shadow. I knew he was there. I was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. More precisely, I was waiting for him to reach the apex of his swing, when he’d be most exposed. But when he turned at your voice…perfection.”
He’d broken Code to save her, and she hadn’t needed saving. Figured. He should have expected nothing less after her performance earlier. In fact, her stance still conveyed a little defensiveness. Not fear. Anxiousness maybe?
He could imagine how intimidating he must look to a woman so petite in stature, so he reached into the pocket of his black trench coat, conjured a generic badge, and showed it to her. “I’m a cop. You can relax now. I’m one of the good guys.”
His last sentence almost stuck in his throat. Could fallen angels be classified as “good guys”?
Her gaze darted from the badge, to him, and to the badge again. “You’re not a local. I’d recognize those badges.”
Well, shit. Maybe he should have gone with an FBI badge. “Spend lots of time in police custody, do ya?” he asked, trying to keep things light. Maybe she wouldn’t push to find out what precinct he supposedly worked for.
“Not anymore.” She grinned. “I teach self-defense, and one of my classes is for abuse victims, battered women, and rape victims mostly. I help them take back the power their attacker stole from them.”
That explained her ability to kick Michaels’s ass back there. Michaels. Seth had missed his chance to take the bastard into eternity, but by the Divine, he’d get another opportunity. And soon. He’d make another opportunity, and this time he’d enjoy taking out the son-of-a-bitch.
She offered her hand. “I’m Lyndi Garrison, by the way. And you’re…”
Lyndi. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
“Seth,” he answered, reaching out to take her hand and—
Holy shit.
A current of something as hot and intense as hellfire shot up his arm. His body stiffened and went into immediate lust-filled overdrive. Physical touch, in his corporeal form, was…was…incredible, undeniable, uncontrollable. This was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
“Well, Officer Seth, aren’t you going to chase down that creep?”
Willing his instant hunger back where it belonged—in a vault he didn’t have the combination to—he shook his head. Michaels wasn’t long for this world anyway, but Seth couldn’t tell her that. “Victims are the main priority. What would it look like if I left you here to chase Creep Guy down and you got attacked again?”
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “I’m no victim. I can take care of myself.”
“Obviously.” He grinned. “Still, you don’t want me to get in trouble, do ya?”