Wicked Angel
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About the Author
A fearsome angel is out of her league. Yet Lana craves the wicked pleasures she knows he can give her, if only for a few nights. Her only fear is that she won’t be able to erase him from her mind and her body.
Lana is a gifted healer. Her job is to treat angels who have been hurt by rogue Ahkran. Although awed by the winged race, only one angel unsettles her in ways too deliciously wicked for her own good. Julien. Muscle-ripped and fearsome, the chief enforcer is hardly angelic...could be her undoing if she succumbs to the unexpected interest he’s taken in her. Called to treat his injury one night, Lana is determined to control her desire for him, do her job and leave. His proposition, however, stops her in her tracks.
Julien normally doesn’t bed humans, yet the lovely healer tempts him beyond control. Surely, three nights with her in his bed are enough to quench his desire...
Publisher’s note: This title was previously published by Cobblestone Press under the pen name Evie Balos. The story has since been re-edited and extended.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Wicked Angel
Copyright © 2015 Celia Jade
ISBN: 978-1-4874-0273-0
Cover art by Latrisha Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc
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Wicked Angel
By
Celia Jade
Chapter One
Lana Kinley smiled as she walked along one of the narrow outdoor aisles of her favorite specialty market. It was a perfect day. Low humidity, a strong June sun without a single cloud to block the rays. The market, tucked between two chunky commercial buildings in midtown Manhattan, was a discovery she had made a year ago while heading to Bryant Park to meet a friend. She stopped by the aloe plant section and turned to her students—a half dozen men and women in their early twenties—about three years younger than her.
“Choosing the right aloe plant is important. As you can see, there are different kinds. Small and medium sized ones are easier to handle and take up less room.” She paused and gave the plants a quick inspection. “You want to look at the leaves, find a concave variety rather than convex.” She motioned them closer as she singled out a plant. “See how the leaves are even on both sides and kind of soft?” A murmur of acknowledgment rose from the group. “This variety is good to eat. But not effective for burns.”
She lifted a potted plant from a different section and held it up. “Now this is the variety you need. The leaves are concave, which of course means they cave in slightly on one side. They’re a little more sour than the other kind and the gel in the leaves will be the key ingredient for your burn ointment.”
“So beautiful...” The female voice that floated up from the group was filled with awe.
Lana assumed the woman was referring to the plant but she noticed the students’ gazes fixed on something in the sky. She looked up and saw two angels flying above The Bryant Park Hotel, formerly The American Radiator Building. Her heart made a tiny skip. It was a glorious sight. They swept around in wide arcs, white wings outstretched, the edges reflecting the sunlight and the gold bricks that adorned the building’s crown.
“I envy their ability to fly,” said the same student without malice.
“Yeah...Me, too...Awesome,” the others chorused.
Lana understood too well. Most angel healers felt the same way, had a strong affinity for the winged race. Possibly derived from a divine lineage, many believed. She hadn’t settled on a personal belief, but if she had one wish it would be to grow wings and fly like those angels.
“Awesome, yes,” she addressed the students. “But we are blessed with the gift to heal them when they’re injured, the ability to support their mission.”
The significance of the mission could be measured in human lives. Angels worked with human law enforcement to ensure the safety of citizens. They provided supernatural power to bring down the most dangerous criminals and terrorist cells. They rescued people from natural and man-made disasters and protected in other ways unknown.
An eager smile now brightened the students’ faces. Lana glanced at her watch. She had a gala to attend in about six hours and she wanted to take her time getting ready. Making connections were necessary to advance her career and establish a good reputation. Not to mention the mouth-watering appetizers and desserts the angels served at their events. Nor that mouth-watering, silver-winged angel you hope to see again, quipped the voice in her head. Lana’s skin flushed and she dismissed the intruding thought.
“Okay, guys. We’ve got to find the rest of the ingredients. Calendula tincture, vitamin E and honey.”
* * * *
Lana’s pulse jumped as Julien walked in her direction, angels and humans parting to let him through. She’d never met him before but she knew who he was. His reputation as a fierce enforcer with stunning looks had made the rounds in the circle of healers. The buzz about his physical appearance wasn’t exaggerated. Standing several feet from him at last week’s conference was enough to throw her body into silent chaos. With furtive glances his way, she’d admired his powerful physique, barely concealed under a crisp shirt and slacks. Apart from his silver wings, there wasn’t anything angelic about his looks. Danger and sexual prowess were stamped all over him, especially in the intensity of his blue eyes and the daring mischief that tugged at the corners of his mouth. A damn full mouth. Any woman would desire him. All the young female healers of the New York Society of Angels did. She often suffered shameless fantasies about him while lying in bed at night. Stupid punishment, of course. Julien was out of her league. He’d want a suitable bed partner, like the statuesque blonde angel he’d been chatting with earlier.
Occasionally, he paused to exchange a brief word and a handshake before moving closer to her. Lana didn’t like this sudden feeling of vulnerability. She glanced around in the hope of locating Miranda, but her friend had disappeared. For goodness’ sake...I’m just in the same room as him. She smoothed her dress over her hips unconsciously. There was no need. The long charcoal lace dress hugged her body as if it were tailored. It was one of the few high-end designer garments she owned. Julien was about ten feet from her when she noticed the purposeful expression on his handsome face, directed at her.
“Shit,” she muttered, and tipped the champagne glass against her mouth for a generous sip. He isn’t coming to talk to me, is he?
The answer to that question came five seconds later when he stopped in front of her. She had no choice but to tilt her chin to meet his gaze, a flutter going off from her stomach to her heart.
“I’ve wanted to meet the healer who trea
ted Arianna’s bullet wound with notable skill. Good evening, Lana.” His mouth curved into a sensual smile as he held out a muscled hand. He didn’t bother introducing himself. Everyone knew the chief of New York City’s angel law enforcement division.
That he knew her name didn’t surprise her. She hesitated for a moment to brace herself for the contact, and slid her hand into his. His warmth shot up her arm like an electric frisson, a wonderful shock to her system. She watched a roguish smile tug at a corner of his mouth as she drew in a calming breath. He was aware of his effect on women.
“Good evening, Julien,” she replied with a smile and a nod.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes...it’s a lovely venue.” He released her hand after her response.
“No escort tonight?” he inquired with a lift of a dark brow.
“No. I came with a friend, who’s presently mingling.”
His gaze swept over her face and her bare shoulders with unguarded manly appraisal. “Let’s walk.”
An angel used to giving orders, of course. Not that she could bring herself to refuse anyway. She walked by his side, unnervingly aware of his commanding presence. They wove around the clusters of elegant people until he paused several feet from an attractive young man with no wings. When Julien and the man made eye contact, the latter raised his glass with a warm smile that soon encompassed her too, while his gaze glided over her with polite appreciation.
“Is he a healer?” she asked.
“No. He’s an Ahkran.”
She gave the man a curious glance this time. “What’s he doing here?”
Ahkran were a human-like supernatural race that dated back to the sixteenth century. Scientists had determined that Ahkran evolved from the human species with a genetic abnormality involving physiological energy. Their production of energy was at least fifteen times greater than that of a human. For reasons unknown, they either liked angels or hated them. The latter, known as rogues, were not the majority, but nonetheless quite problematic. They merged in underground clans with the main purpose of planning fatal attacks on angels. Armed with the power to generate electric bolts with their hands, they were a dangerous lot.
Angels were exceptionally powerful and their bodies could sustain many injuries, but an Ahkran bolt could permanently damage a wing or kill. Ahkran had little interest in humans, proclaiming them inferior. However, humans had been killed in the occasional acts of anarchy carried out by the rogues.
“He works for us,” Julien said, and lowered his mouth to her ear while his hand rested on the small of her back. “Have you ever desired one of them?”
Her senses whirled in response to Julien’s touch. She averted her gaze from the Ahkran and wondered if Julien was trying to provoke her for his amusement. In truth, she’d only humored her girlfriends’ interests in the race. What she desired was standing right beside her.
“No.”
“He wants you.”
Her breath caught before she let out a nervous chuckle. “How do you know?”
“A man either desires a woman the second he sees her, or he doesn’t.” He paused and glanced at the Ahkran. “Shall I call him over and leave the two of you alone so that you can see for yourself?”
It dawned on her that he was likely testing her trustworthiness. Relationships between angel healers and Ahkran—including the non-rogue kind—were discouraged.
“No, I’m not interested,” she replied. It was the truth. She tilted her gaze to the rugged beauty of Julien’s face as awareness drummed inside her. She’d wanted Julien the moment she’d seen him.
He stepped behind her and curved his palms to her waist. “Or is it angels that you desire?”
His body’s heat permeated her dress, her skin. Lust coiled low in her belly and pooled in her sex. She pressed her thighs together, afraid her arousal would seep through her panties.
“Angels fascinate me.” She silently cursed the tiny shake in her voice.
A soft chuckle. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She licked the sudden dryness from her lips. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to your race.”
His breath fanned the top of her head, giving her delicious goose bumps. “Look around. Which one do you fancy?”
The room was full of good-looking angels, yet none caught her eye, which spiked her vexation. She eased out of his hold and turned to face him. “Why are you doing this? Is it some kind of test?”
“All new members are tested, Lana. You haven’t fully earned our trust, yet.”
A quick, angry swell of pride rose inside her as her gaze locked onto his. “I’m an instructor at the NYSA and I’ve treated four angels to date. Obviously, I’ve earned someone’s trust.”
A blue-black flame flickered in his eyes for a moment.
Anger? No. Danger? At the very least. Whatever the emotion it licked at her skin like a silk flame.
He inclined his dark head. “I didn’t mean to offend. You’re a gifted healer.” A muscle flexed in his jaw and his gaze shifted to focus on something in the distance behind her for several seconds.
Lana was about to turn around to see what had caught his attention but his fingers on her hair stopped her. He lifted the end of one lock and rubbed it between his fingers.
“I’m not testing you.”
Lana pulled her hair out of his grasp. “Then why these questions? What do you want?”
His blue gaze lowered to her mouth. “I’ll have what I want soon enough. Enjoy the party.” With that, he turned and walked away from her, leaving her staring at those magnificent wings. And terrified in a wickedly delicious way.
Chapter Two
The trill of the phone wrenched Lana from a deep sleep at one a.m. on Friday. A stab of panic made her bolt upright in bed and reach for the phone on the nightstand, praying this wasn’t an emergency call from her parents.
The caller ID read NYSA, allowing her to release a sigh of relief. “Hello?”
“Lana Kinley?” inquired a male caller.
“Speaking.”
“This is Mouric from angel headquarters. I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we need your services right away.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she replied, “Angel hurt?”
“Yes. Julien. Looks like a second degree burn on the wing.”
Her heart gave an anxious skip at the sound of his name. She hadn’t seen him since the gala almost two weeks ago. Since his parting comment had sent her senses spinning and had her wondering if he was playing with her. But she’d decided that Julien wasn’t the sort who played games. Not head games, anyway.
She gave herself a mental shake. A second-degree burn meant that the Ahkran had just grazed him. Third-degree burns were more common.
“If I catch a cab right away, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” The building was located on the other side of the city—Upper East on Lexington Avenue.
“Okay. Go to reception and tell them who you are.” The line went dead.
Twenty minutes later Lana walked through the front doors of the towering gothic building of the angel headquarters. Her flat sandals tapped softly on the white marble floor as she crossed to the reception desk. Two well-groomed angels greeted her, one male the other female.
“My name is Lana Kinley. I’ve been called to see Julien.”
“He’s expecting you. Take the elevator to the twentieth floor,” the male angel said with efficiency.
“Thank you. Oh, is there a room number?”
“No.”
In her haste to get here, she’d barely had time to select her clothing properly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a khaki tank top. She looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall and tucked her bra strap under the top. Her hair fell past her shoulders in thick, sleep-tousled waves. A rosy hue dotted her cheeks but she knew that wasn’t from sleep. Her palm dampened as she clutched the emergency kit. No other man unsettled her like Julien. Yet that same feeling he produced
drew her to him. She craved just one night with him...well, maybe two. It could only be a fling. Angels only paired for life with angels, could only procreate with their own race. Right. She looked at the longing in her eyes in the mirror and pushed out a frustrated sigh. Not right! An angel like Julien could ruin her for a regular guy. She guessed he had about a hundred years of sexual experience—could only imagine what mind-blowing naughty skills he knew. And if she were really honest, her heart could likely suffer some heartache in the aftermath of any type of relationship with him.
The corridor on the twentieth floor was softly lit and short. A private floor, hence, no need for a room number. She walked to the single black door and rang the bell.
Almost immediately, the door swung open and she looked into the pale eyes of an angel who carried the essence of old age and wisdom. Although angels showed few signs of aging, the years of immortality grew in their souls. Old angels were highly revered. She hesitated, uncertain how to greet him.
He smiled and motioned for her to come in. “Welcome, Lana.”
He was Mouric. She recognized his voice from the phone call.
She followed the old angel through the elegant condo until they reached a bedroom. Sitting on the edge of an enormous bed was Julien, sporting that trademark, mischievous smile. And, God help her, he was topless. Even motionless as he was, she sensed the powerful ripple of his sculpted muscles. Awareness fluttered through her like a swarm of electric butterflies.
“Hello, Lana,” he said, his keen eyes taking in her appearance with one sweep. “I apologize for dragging you out of bed.” He seemed sincere, yet the teasing flicker in his eyes told her he didn’t feel too bad about it.
“No problem. It’s my job.” She attempted a composed expression as she set the emergency kit on a medical tray that had been rolled out. As she opened the kit and began pulling out various items, she took in the dominant furnishings on the side of the room she was facing. Heavy velvet and pale silk curtains partly drawn across two high windows overlooking the city. A huge armoire in a shade of deep brown. A large coffee table flanked by two elegant armchairs with curved backs, tailored to accommodate wings. It all seemed larger than life. Like the angel watching her from the bed.