Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Romance Series Complete Series Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Felicity Heaton

  “Hurt me,” she whispered, her eyes darting between his. “They struck me down.”

  He growled, his lips peeling back from his emerging fangs, and his wings burst free, called by a dark desire to fly to Heaven and tear it down as payment for what it had done to her.

  A bright shaft of golden light shot down from the endless blue sky, stinging his eyes. The bolt struck the sand between him and the group near the fire pit, spraying it everywhere, and weapons appeared in the hands of Marcus, Einar, Apollyon and Asmodeus.

  It appeared Heaven had come to him instead.

  He rose to his feet, set Lysia on hers, and recalled his greaves, completing his armour. He pushed her behind him and shielded her with his black wings as he called his obsidian blades to him. Beside him, Veiron growled and grew, his muscles expanding as he changed into his demonic form. His skin turned black and his eyes blazed gold and red, and his armour covered him, the red-edged black plates protecting his upper torso, hips, forearms and shins.

  Veiron growled, flashing twin deadly rows of crimson teeth, and the scarlet dripped from his wings like blood, turning them black before the feathers fell away, revealing the leathery dragon-like wings beneath.

  The angel who had travelled within the Heavenly beam of light straightened and as the golden shaft faded and died, Nevar saw a male he had hoped he would never set eyes on again.

  Fury flashed like lightning in the depths of the blond angel’s ice-blue eyes, a shadow crossing his face that was dark and unholy as he furled huge wings against his black armour.

  Nevar would never forget the time they had met in Hell on the plateau where the pool that recorded the world’s history stood, protected by the angels of Heaven. He had been at his lowest point, filled with a need for vengeance and bloodshed, despising himself and his master because of it. Blaming Asmodeus for everything he had done. Every innocent life he had taken. Every bitch he had screwed for a shot of Euphoria. Every inch lower he had sunk into depravity.

  He had been there to use the pool, but Lysander had blocked his path.

  He would never forget that he had promised this very male that he would halt his quest to seek out Asmodeus’s weakness in exchange for him revealing the location of that male’s fortress, something that had eluded him. He had made a pact with Lysander, swearing he would go directly to Asmodeus’s castle and battle him. It would have been a suicide mission, and the angel had known it. Lysander had wanted him dead and had thought to play him for a fool, so Nevar had played the bastard too.

  Mere days after swearing to give up his quest, Nevar had tasked a sorceress with finding his master’s weakness and had discovered it in the form of Liora.

  He had exploited that weakness.

  He had broken that pact.

  Lysander had come to deal out the punishment he had sworn he would inflict if Nevar betrayed his trust.

  He had come to take Nevar’s head.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Wretch.” Lysander strode towards Nevar and four more shafts of golden light shot down behind the angel, throwing sand in all directions.

  Four more angels dressed in black armour rose behind Lysander, each of them taller than the slender golden-haired male, but none of them as formidable as they cast curious gazes around the island.

  All five radiated power that didn’t just press down on Nevar’s shoulders, it crushed his body, as if it was forcing his bones inwards, and his knees threatened to give out under the pressure.

  Nevar struggled to remain standing and fought for air, his throat closing as Lysander stared at him, his eyes swirling like ice and filled with malice and intent.

  “I warned you not to betray me,” Lysander snarled and the shadow crossed his face again, a dark phantom of some sort that settled on his skin for a moment before it disappeared.

  The four immense angels behind Lysander grinned at each other, evidently excited by the prospect of watching their comrade paint the white sand red with his blood. There was darkness in their eyes now, a shadow of something similar to what showed in Lysander’s at times, as if they all held a blackness in their souls, the same as Nevar did. These angels were capable of evil and if someone gave it a push, they would turn as easily as he had.

  They were not normal angels. Their power, bearing and behaviour warned that they were warriors, bred for a purpose, one that Nevar wanted to know as he watched them eyeing everyone on the island in turn, a cold and clinical edge to their eyes. They were calculating every outcome of everything that might go down as a result of their appearance and Lysander’s fury.

  Nevar had never seen anything like them.

  Angels in Heaven worked together, but these four seemed closer than mere allies on the same side. They acted as a unit and Nevar had a feeling that Lysander was their fifth member, and while they were happy to stand back and not interfere in Lysander’s crusade, they would step in should their comrade need them.

  They reminded him of his allies gathered here on the island, a powerful unit that wouldn’t stop in their pursuit of victory against all who opposed them. Only these angels wouldn’t stop in their pursuit of carrying out their orders. He could see it in their eyes, recognising the hard edge to them as they scanned everyone present. He had seen that look in Marcus’s eyes once, back when the angel had been a member of the guardian corps and devoted to his duty. Marcus would have done whatever it had taken to fulfil his mission, and these angels were the same.

  But different.

  Several things set them apart from regular angels of Heaven. The most prominent was their armour. They wore the same armour as Lysander did and Nevar had never seen anything like it. The pieces matched the ones all angels wore, but theirs was covered with finely tooled black leather, and each bore different images engraved onto them. He had never seen wings the colours of some of theirs either.

  Lysander’s were no longer black.

  They were as golden as his hair.

  The other four angels’ wings all matched their hair colour too. The largest male who stood directly behind Lysander had the strangest colour—a pale shade of jade. He wore his hair overlong, tied at the nape of his neck with sections that had escaped the thong and curled beneath his ears.

  The other three were barely an inch shorter than his six and a half foot frame, and just as broadly built. The one to his right had pure long white hair, worn with the top half tied back and the rest left the flow down his back, and white wings, and the one to his left had short crimson hair and red wings like a Hell’s angel. The fourth angel had wild black hair and wings.

  Their hair, wings and armour wasn’t the only thing that warned him these were no normal angels. The power they possessed was far beyond any angel, including Apollyon, and they had something else that set them apart from their brethren.

  Not a curse, or a spell like the wings he bore tattooed on his back.

  Some of the tattoos these men wore were not the sort of ones Heaven would condone—naked women.

  The one that drew his attention the most was on the one with short red hair.

  It curved beneath his navel, spanning his stomach, visible just above the armoured plates that protected his hips.

  It read ‘VICTORY’ in big black serif letters.

  Lysander closed in, the incredible pressure of his power reminding Nevar that it was unwise to take his focus off the angel, especially when the male had evidently come to fight him, and had brought back up.

  “Did I not warn you?” The blond’s sharp gaze bore into him but Nevar didn’t answer. He flexed his fingers around the violet hilt of his black blade, preparing himself. A golden curved blade appeared in Lysander’s hand. “I told you not to go after Asmodeus’s weakness and now the Great Destroyer has risen and the proof of that stands at my back. With the destroyer’s awakening, came the awakening of these angels of the apocalypse.”

  Veiron grumbled, or he might have chortled, it was hard to tell when he was fully demonic, standing three feet taller than usual and
far wider.

  “You royally fucked up this time.” The big Hell’s angel grinned at him. It might have been a grimace though, because the pressure of the power the five angels were emitting grew stronger at that moment, driving Nevar to his knees.

  “Did you know someone was stealing your gig?” Erin said, standing near the fire with her eyes on Apollyon where he knelt on the sand with the others, fighting the crushing force of the power flowing over them.

  She bounced Dante in her arms, completely unaffected.

  Apollyon grunted. “I was. I trained the bastard.”

  Lysander looked over his shoulder in their direction. “Six centuries under your wing, Old Man. Never once did you tell me my true purpose.”

  Someone was bitter.

  Nevar chuckled.

  Lysander swung deadly ice-blue eyes his way and held his free hand out, unleashing more of his power in Nevar’s direction. He ground his teeth and fought it, unwilling to be driven into the sand. The Devil had held him pinned flat on his stomach on the ground before him once and he had sworn it would never happen again.

  Lysia curled behind him, tucked safely against the shield of his black wings, and he willed her to stay there, hidden from view. He wasn’t sure what Lysander would do if he saw a demon on the island, a creature so clearly born of Hell. Angels had a tendency to send demons to Heaven for questioning rather than asking the questions themselves and finding out whether the demon deserved to end up incarcerated and tortured.

  “When I awakened to my true purpose, I sought to stop you Nevar, and you lied to me. You betrayed my trust, and you will pay for it.” Lysander pointed his golden blade at him.

  Erin appeared next to Lysander’s band of angels, her short black dress fluttering around her thighs from the act of teleporting, and looked at each in turn, her fine black eyebrows raising high on her forehead so they disappeared beneath the fringe of her bob.

  Curiosity shone in her amber eyes. “So, you’re like the four horsemen or something? You’ve come to destroy the world?”

  They all looked at her.

  Dante burped.

  Their eyes flashed in unison and fell to the baby, and Erin backed off a step.

  “But there are only four horsemen. What does that make you?” She looked straight at Lysander, not flinching when he turned his glare on her.

  Some of the weight of his power lifted from Nevar’s shoulders, allowing him to breathe normally. She was drawing the focus of the angels, giving everyone a chance to recover. She was placing herself and her son in danger for him.

  “Ward,” Nevar whispered and shook his head when she looked at him. He wouldn’t let her risk herself.

  She patted her black bundle on the back and he belched again. “Who’s a good boy?”

  “Boy?” Lysander sneered. “It is an abomination.”

  Her face darkened at the same time as her eyes brightened to gold. “Need I remind you whose island you’re on? You’re just sore because you’re some sort of apocalypse fifth wheel.”

  Lysander turned fully to face her and more of his power lifted from Nevar. More of it directed at Erin. She didn’t seem to feel it at all.

  Near the fire, Asmodeus and Liora linked hands and rose to their feet. Apollyon joined them, helping Serenity onto hers.

  Veiron staggered a few steps towards Erin before stopping and breathing hard. While standing was now comparatively easy, moving clearly took its toll. Nevar needed more of the angels’ power off him if he was going to fight Lysander, but that meant more directed at Erin and her child.

  “I am no fifth wheel,” Lysander snapped and jerked his chin up. “I am their leader, the angel of destruction, created to defeat the destroyer as my brethren were created to stop the plagues, end the wars, heal the land and beasts, and save the mortals.”

  Erin eyed them all again, her golden irises beginning to glow. Shadows fluttered on her shoulder blades, small wisps of smoke that danced against the breeze. She had wings like her father’s.

  “So you haven’t come to destroy the world… you’re all about saving it.” She smiled at that. “Cool. I thought we were going to have a problem.”

  “We have a problem, Devil Spawn,” the big white-haired one said and his blue eyes flashed with fire. “You and that abomination are a problem.”

  Her face darkened again.

  Veiron growled and staggered forwards, his immense body shaking from the exertion, and almost reached Erin before he collapsed.

  “Do not touch her,” he snarled, his black claws churning up the sand as he glared at the angels, his eyes swirling red and gold, filled with impotent rage.

  Nevar knew his fury and frustration. They weren’t strong enough to contend with the power of these angels when they worked together. Only Erin and Dante could withstand it. The two they all wanted to protect were the only ones strong enough to protect themselves and stand their ground against these angels.

  Erin went to Veiron, crouched beside him and placed a kiss on his black forehead. He seemed to recover within the sphere of her power, shielded by her, and managed to sit up on his knees and breathe easier. She handed him Dante and he wrapped his huge black arms around the tiny bundle, and then his leathery dragon-like wings around him too, cocooning him completely.

  “Daddy will protect you,” she said to Dante and stroked his cheek before standing and facing the five angels again. “I really wanted to be nice to you all.”

  They exchanged glances and the white-haired one called a burning white sword to his hand.

  Erin sighed dramatically. “You just had to go there.”

  “We will deal with you first, Demon.” He pointed the flaming blade at her.

  Veiron definitely chuckled this time and whispered to Dante, “Watch mummy do her thing.”

  “What was that? You want me to crush you like a bug?” She approached the group, fearless with her head held high and shadows flowing from her back, becoming wings.

  The male laughed.

  Erin’s expression went blank, she raised her left hand, and all five men dropped to their knees, grunting in unison.

  “I really do hate it when people laugh at me.” Erin pinned each angel with a glare. “It’s so hard to get anyone to take me seriously at times.”

  Veiron chuckled again. Erin gave him a pointed look and he fell silent.

  She turned back to the five angels and walked in a circle around them, her hands behind her back and her gaze constantly on them. The shadows fluttered and flowed from her back, and tendrils curled around her arms, black where they emerged from her hands but turning red near their tips.

  The five angels’ shoulders shook, trembling under the weight of her power. The pressure on Nevar disappeared as the angels withdrew their power, using it to combat Erin’s instead. It didn’t seem to help.

  Nevar wished he possessed Erin’s power.

  She was incredible.

  “I think you should leave now.” Erin stopped in front of Lysander. “Before I really lose my temper.”

  He edged his blue eyes up to her face. Sweat beaded on his brow and darkened his wild blond hair.

  He managed to nod.

  “Good.” Erin waved her hand again and walked back to Veiron.

  The five angels stumbled onto their feet.

  Lysander grinned wickedly and launched himself at Nevar.

  Before Nevar could respond, Lysia was in front of him, blocking Lysander’s sword arm with her bare hand and driving him backwards. The male didn’t seem to know what to make of her as she fought him, slashing at him with long black talons and catching him at times, drawing lines of bright scarlet on his flesh.

  The other four angels called their weapons and Lysia threw her hands forwards, hitting them with a telekinetic blast that only made them stagger back a few steps. Either she was growing weaker and so were her attacks, or the angels were powerful enough to withstand the full force of her abilities.

  All five angels stopped and stared at her in s
tunned silence.

  Why?

  “I like this chick. She rocks,” Erin said, shattering the tension in the air for a heartbeat.

  Lysander sneered. “This chick? This is no mere female.”

  He raked cold icy eyes over Lysia and Nevar growled, warning the male away from her. He was about to step in front of her to shield her again when Lysander spoke, stunning everyone into silence this time.

  “She is the Great Destroyer.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Nevar stared at the back of Lysia’s head, his hand slowly coming up to rest on the centre of the violet-edged black breastplate of his armour. Beneath it, the mark on his chest pulsed, a steady rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, out of sync with his own but just as fast.

  She slowly turned her head and looked over her slender shoulder at him, her fall of black hair obscuring part of her face. Her eyebrows furrowed and her hazel eyes implored him, filled with a combination of hope and fear, and incredible hurt.

  Hurt that he felt sure was beating in his own chest through the mark there.

  Her mark.

  She was the Great Destroyer.

  He had been looking for a beast, bigger than one of the dragons that resided in Hell, a gigantic creature with six horns, spikes down its back, a vicious barbed tail and enormous wings.

  His gaze briefly dropped from hers to her wings and they drew closer to her back, no doubt responding to the pulse of fear that had shot through her when his eyes had shifted to them. She wanted to hide them from him, but she didn’t need to feel such a thing or be ashamed of them.

  She had the wings and the talons of the creature carved on the door of her chamber, but she wasn’t a monster.

  She was beautiful.

  But he couldn’t move past one thought that stuck in his mind, sending fear in crushing waves through his body.

  Was the attraction he felt for her and the electric rush of tingles he experienced with every brush of their skin, no matter how innocent the touch was, purely because they were bound to each other?