by Brandi Evans
Tempted
Brandi Evans
The only thing standing between this fallen angel and redemption? The woman he loves.
Eons ago, Seth fell for another angel—literally—and was cast down from the Heavens. Seeking redemption, he works for the Angels of Death, taking the lives of those destined to die, his only desire to return home. But everything changes when a beautiful brunette explodes into his life and plunges his ordered world into chaos, tempting him with something he hasn’t experienced in millennia. Love.
A busted radiator strands Lyndi Garrison on a deserted stretch of coastal Maine and shoves her directly into the path of a sexual predator. She fends off her attacker until an NFL-sized stranger appears from the darkness to help. She’s instantly enamored of her quiet hero, and before the evening ends, they share a devastating kiss and a knock-out round of sex unlike anything she’s ever known. Though she can’t help but wonder… Has she finally received a second chance at happiness? Or is Fate being a bitch again?
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Tempted
ISBN 9781419929649
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Tempted Copyright © 2010 Brandi Evans
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover art by Reese Dante
Electronic book publication August 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
TEMPTED
Brandi Evans
Dedication
To my wonderful husband for tackling kidlet duty so I could write. To Shayla Kersten and Olivia Starke for helping me whip my story into shape. And to my amazing editor for taking a chance on me.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
NFL: National Football League Brandi Evans
Chapter 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 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.
Why? Because his bosses, The Angels of Death, deemed it so.
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, the scumbag 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.
One of the women he’d beaten with such animalistic rage 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 damn sculpture!”
Seth pulled back. Curiosity forced him to turn toward the very angry, very sultry female voice—a strikingly odd combination. Just off the main road near the park entrance a woman stood with her back to him, kicking the shit out of the tire of a tiny little hybrid car with white smoke billowing from its engine.
Under the soft glow of the streetlight above her, Seth could make out long chestnut hair with a hint of auburn undertones, as if she’d spent much of the 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.
His mind went wild. Did she wear a skirt or dress beneath the jacket? If so, what did it look like? Would the material cling to her body like a second skin? Or would it fit loose while still managing to show off her every curve?
Or maybe she wore nothing at all…?
Concentrate, he scolded. You’re here on a job.
He turned to his mark. Michaels stared at the woman too, his dark arousal filling Seth’s nostrils like onions wrapped in ripe gym socks. Beautiful-Potty-Mouth was exactly this animal’s type. A brunette with a body that begged men to touch, not look. 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 intervention 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 with his target as Michaels folded himself into the shadows. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the other man was doing. Stalking.
Dark anger welled up inside Seth’s chest. How was he supposed to sit back while this creep raped and maybe killed an innocent?
Beautiful-Potty-Mouth turned from the car. Toward Seth. And something happened, something he hadn’t experienced since he’d lost his wings.
His soul stirred.
Her hair framed a delicate heart-shaped face that, quite possibly, might haunt him well into the next two millennia.
He stood rooted to the spot as she scanned the area. Looking for danger? Smart girl. She couldn’t see him while he was cloaked in the Angel of Death’s powers. He was pretty sure she couldn’t see Michaels either as he sat hunched in the darkness.
After a long moment, she started walking toward him. No, not toward him, but to the phone booth in th
e corner of the 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 a couple feet of them, showing no sign she sensed their presence. Seth had to give Michaels credit. Experience had taught the creep how to hide, but he couldn’t hide from Seth. And as soon as Beautiful-Potty-Mouth left, he’d make sure this asshole never hurt another woman.
When she stopped in front of the booth, she looked Heavenward. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. You fucking piece of horseshit!” She punched the booth. Seth was surprised she didn’t kick it too. “You’re as useless as the damn car.”
Seth moved closer to see what had caused her ire. With cell phone use out of control, many booths 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…
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.
The woman backpedaled and oh-so-discreetly fisted her hands around her keys so they jutted between her clenched fingers like spikes. “Actually,” she said, fear and apprehension mingling in the timbre of her alluringly deep 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 trying to hide the undercurrent of terror trying to dampen her expression—no, not terror. Resolution? She looked as if she was 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 actually considering conjuring a phone and showing himself so he could let her use it, but he squelched the thought almost as it entered his consciousness. To show himself to a human without Executive Order…
That bonehead move 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. Death Code and Angelic Code prohibited him from interfering.
A tragic epiphany sliced through his mind. Maybe dying tonight by Michaels’ hands was her destiny?
The idea turned Seth’s stomach, but he had to find out. He opened his mind and mentally 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’ arm with her key-fisted hand, using much more strength than her tiny stature seemed capable of producing, and freed herself. Michaels stumbled.
“Bastard!” She rammed the butt of her opposite hand into his nose. Her knee crushed into his groin and Michaels dropped, hands grasping his family jewels.
Doing a perfect roundhouse kick, she punched him across the face with shoes not designed with self-defense in mind and while he writhed on the ground she turned and jogged 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. Beautiful and a killer body. Literally. The type of woman who could bring Seth to his knees if he let himself get stupid, and he’d be damned if he let another woman ruin him.
Michaels’ groan turned into a low snarl. He rolled to his stomach, blood smeared on his face and pushed to his feet with slow deliberation. “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 with rock-wielding arm raised high, prepared to strike.
A streetlight shined over the pair, illuminating the scene in ghastly hues so 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’ ribs. The bastard dropped the rock and stumbled over a curb. Then she leveled him with one last kick, sending him tumbling down the shallow ravine bracketing the park entrance.
Michaels limped away into the night.
“Are you all right, miss?” Seth asked, careful not to get too close. He didn’t want her wailing 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 human body, not many humans rivaled Seth’s build.
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. So when he turned at your voice…perfection.”
Seth shook his head. He’d broken Code to save her and she hadn’t actually needed his help. 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.”<
br />
His last sentence almost stuck in his throat. Could fallen angels really be classified as “one of the good guys”?
Her gaze darted from the badge, to him, 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 worked for.
She laughed. “No. I teach self-defense and one of my classes is for abuse victims. Battered women, rape victims. I help them take back the power their attacker stole from them.”
That explained her ability to kick Michaels’ 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 the son-of-a-bitch’s life.
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 Hell’s fire shot up his arm. His body stiffened and went into immediate lustful overdrive. Physical touch, in his corporal form was…was…incredible, undeniable. Uncontrollable. Sensations 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?”