Inflamed
Page 10
“We’re being dismissed.” Lethal clasped her hand. “Come on Valentine.”
The wolf brushed his tail against Michael as if a moment of defiance.
Michael glared, but didn’t raise a finger to hurt him.
Cupid allowed Lethal to lead her out of the Grand Hall to their room. Valentine climbed up on the couch. He took up most of it. She laughed. “We’re going to need another couch.”
Lethal snapped his fingers. “Valentine, stay.”
The wolf whined, but laid his head on the couch.
They held hands and went into the bedroom. She rushed into his arms. An overwhelming weariness bore down on her. “What if we can’t save her?”
“We will.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re more than an Angel of Love, Cupid. You’re an empath and love is your greatest gift. You’ve melted my heart. And Valentine’s.” He nuzzled her neck. “Now let me melt yours.”
She should work on her powers, but Gabriel had said they should do so together. “Why didn’t Venus tell me about the bow?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Now I know why she wore the damn glove. I should have pursued more. I thought it was a fashion statement. I’m such a fool. This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” He pushed her hair behind her ears. “You heard Raphael. Hope is on our side. But if you have any doubt, Cupid, Balthazar will use it against you like he did Venus. You must gather your strength and trust in us.”
She kissed him and pressed her body against his. “I do. With all my heart.”
“Then prove it.” A wicked smile flashed across his face as he unzipped her gown.
She stepped out of the gown. “Love me.”
His eyes turned smoldering. “Always.”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to their king-size heart shaped bed, where he proved without a shadow of a doubt his heart belonged to her.
***
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Dear Reader
I hope you enjoyed Inflamed. One of Aidy Award’s readers came up with the name!!!
I liked writing the twist on the book. I thought it was fun to have a female angel named Cupid. Why should men get all the fun?
Balthazar would argue demons have all the fun. He and the other angels will be showing up in more books. Not just in the Dark Angel series.
They pop up in the Blood Brotherhood and will be turning up in some new series.
Until next time, thanks for taking a chance on Inflamed!
ML Guida
Excerpt for Immortal
Guilt ate away at Heather’s heart. It was her fault that her sister was dead.
Heather stared at the wreathe of red roses with the Beloved Sister ribbon that lay draped across her sister’s coffin. Red roses had been Rosemary’s favorite flower.
“We ask you, dear Lord, to deliver Rosemary’s soul into your hands.”
Father David McCarthy’s soft words did nothing to ease the pain squatting in Heather’s breaking heart. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t break down. She’d be strong for Rosemary.
Gray clouds grumbled and lightning flashed over Mount Olivet Cemetery. Heavy rain and wind whipped the salt and pepper hair across Father David’s forehead. He sprinkled holy water onto the black shiny coffin. “Our Father who art in heaven...”
Heather recited the Lord’s Prayer, but the words failed to warm the cold fracturing her heart. She closed her eyes tightly and hoped Rosemary was finally at peace. The wind and rain grew stronger. She wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, hugging her black wool coat. Her aunt Sherry said that a rainstorm at a funeral meant angels wept. Were angels sad Rosemary died, or did they even care?
It had been a closed coffin. The mortician couldn’t repair the damage the bus had done to her beloved sister’s face. She hoped Rodriquez had been right and Rosemary had died instantly, that she hadn’t withered in agony alone on the dark pavement, gasping until her last breath. Heather should have been there to hold Rosemary’s hand as she passed onto the next life. Emptiness sank into Heather’s stomach and numbness spread to her limbs. Rain splashed onto Heather’s cheeks, mixing with her tears.
Father lowered his stretched out hands. “Amen.” He walked to Heather and clasped her trembling hands. “She’s at peace now.”
She inhaled the smell of amber and citrus—her father’s favorite cologne. Her empty stomach revolted, and she swallowed bile. Luckily, she had eaten nothing, or she would have spewed all over Father McCarthy’s neat black cassock. “Thank you, Father,” she murmured.
She loathed that scent. Her father practically drowned himself in it. She’d smelled the cologne before he opened her and Rosemary’s door. He’d force seven-year-old Rosemary to pleasure him, while Heather hid under the covers, clutching her teddy bear. She prayed her father wouldn’t come for her. She hated herself for it. She’d been a coward, a traitor.
She cleared her throat. “Father?”
“Yes, my child?”
“Thank you for coming to the morgue and performing the last rites.”
He patted her hands. “Of course.”
Father McCarthy was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but unlike her father, he was one of the kindest men she’d ever known. But did he have to wear that ghastly cologne?
He squeezed her shoulders. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“I won’t.”
He moved down the line to console her Aunt Sherry and cousins.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Heather?”
Heather turned. Her best friend Susan looked at her with concern. Her usual perfect eyeliner and mascara were smeared, and she looked like a masked bandit. “Are you okay?”
“The truth? No.”
Susan rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry.”
Heather faced the coffin. Susan didn’t realize how lucky she was to be so close to her young sister. Both blue-eyed blondes, they practically looked like twins. They’d finish each other’s sentences and had always been close. Not true with Heather and Rosemary. They barely exchanged Christmas cards.
More thunder rumbled. The rat-a-tat-tat of the rain pounded harder as if the angels cried louder. A huge bouquet of roses draped over the casket. Heather ran her shaking hand over the sleek casket, then took a rose and inhaled its fragrant scent. “I promise I’ll find out who did this to you.”
Her voice trembled and tears blurred her vision.
She stood, then motioned to Susan. She didn’t want her aunt or cousin to hear. They had written Rosemary off long ago as a hopeless drug addict.
“Did I tell you I talked to the coroner?”
Susan rubbed her arm. “What did he say?”
“He said he found a hallucinogenic ten times more powerful than meth in Heather’s system.”
She shook her head. “PCP?”
Heather bristled at her judgmental tone. Even Susan thought Rosemary had relapsed. Heather didn’t believe it. “No. He said he’d never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what it was, but he said the drug caused her brain to swell and put pressure on her skull. He said he’d never seen a hallucinogenic or a stimulant so deadly.”
Even as a drug and alcohol counselor, she’d never heard of such a thing, and she’d seen it all.
“That’s really strange.” Susan sighed and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “Come on, honey, family car is waiting.”
Heather allowed Susan to escort her, but she couldn’t understand what the coroner said. She leaned against Susan and inhaled her favorite scent of apple blossoms. Weariness beat her down, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
Soft rain changed to angry pelts that stung her face. They walked toward the limousine. Her black open-toed pumps sank into puddles, freezing her feet, but Heather didn’t car
e. Numbness gripped her, and she was thankful for it. She was tired of the pain, the guilt, the loss.
A distinguished chauffeur held the car door. “Watch your head.”
She slipped into the heated back seat next to her Aunt Sherry. Her mother’s twin sister, Sherry looked just like her with her shoulder length hair, dark eyes, and smooth porcelain skin, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Aunt Sherry never hit or raised her voice. How could identical twins be so different?
Susan scooted next to her. “Hi, Aunt Sherry.”
“Hello, dear.”
Aunt Sherry studied Heather and worry filled her eyes. “Are you all right, my dear?”
Heather shivered. “Yes, I’m fine.” A lie, but she didn’t want to talk right now. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her lids too heavy to keep open.
Aunt Sherry patted her thigh. “Sleep, dear. You’re so tired. You should take some time off.”
Heather lifted her head. “No, if I stay home, all I do is think of Rosemary. I need to work.”
Her twenty-seven-year-old cousin, Alice, snorted. Her long blond hair shrouded her face, but Heather could feel her glaring at her beneath those strands. Alice had never liked her, probably because Rosemary had shared her deepest, darkest secrets with her. Something she’d never done with Heather and now never would.
About the Author
Award Winning Author M.L. Guida loves science fiction and the paranormal. From Star Trek to Dark Shadows to Supernatural, she fell in love with things that go bump in the night. But it was the heroes, she loved the best. No matter what happened, those characters never gave up. Now, her heroes are following their footsteps. Whether it's a shape shifter from outer space or a vampire from the past, her wounded heroes always find a way to conquer battles and win the heart of the feisty heroine. Because even in a world of darkness, true love survive.
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Immortal
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The Touch of the Dragon
Touch of Curiosity
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Sin of The Vampire
Shadows of the Vampire
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Madness Unleashed
Madness Unhinged
Madness Unmasked
Madness Unbalanced
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Another Tiger Bites the Dust