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

by Felicity Heaton

The angel didn’t look inclined to answer it.

  She frowned at the four angels, studying them hard while they gave Nevar their full attention.

  What sort of angels had such tattoos? Some of them were of dragons and beasts, and unholy things. Others were of skeletons. Some were angelic symbols. Others written in the demon tongue. Some were glyphs, protective charms that were ancient and beautiful, from all different lands of the mortal world.

  And others still were in a language she now recognised as English.

  She stared hard at the letters that curved beneath the navel of the angel with the short red hair, spanning hip to hip, trying to understand them. Just as she deciphered the word they spelled, she felt his golden gaze slide her way. Her eyes darted up to meet his.

  His full lips tilted into a wicked smile and he stroked the letters that declared ‘VICTORY’, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

  Lysia looked away from him.

  These were not angels as she knew them.

  They had a wickedness about them, a shadow in their aura that spoke of a darker edge to their souls.

  “It has been decided that you will come with us,” Mihail said and, for a heartbeat, Lysia thought he was talking to her but his gaze was firmly fixed on Nevar. “Heaven desires to speak with you. It has an offer to lay on the table.”

  Nevar laughed again. “I do not think so. Heaven has nothing it can offer me.”

  The angel shifted a step closer, towering taller than Nevar. “It has much to offer you. Do you not desire things which only Heaven can give to you?”

  Mihail raked his cold gaze over Nevar’s black armour and then his body. It lingered on Nevar’s hands and he shook his head.

  “So much darkness,” Mihail said, his eyes on the black skin that covered Nevar’s arms to his elbows, and she felt Nevar falter, sensed his momentary slip in strength through their link before his grip on his swords tightened again and he stood a little straighter, tilting his chin up.

  The angel meant to play on his weaknesses, just as she had wanted to seek out and play on theirs. They were wicked indeed.

  “Do you long for it to be gone?” Mihail canted his head and smiled. “It can be gone. Heaven will grant that if you come with us. They only desire to speak with you as the creature’s master and find a way to avert the apocalypse she will bring about.”

  Nevar stared at the angel in silence, his jade gaze never leaving his, and Lysia could feel that he wanted to take the angel’s offer. She pressed her hand to her heart, to the mark beneath her skin. Heaven was offering Nevar a chance to purge some of the evil that lived inside him and part of her wanted him to take that offer, to seize that which he desired above all else, while another part silently begged him to refuse and stay with her.

  “I see.” Mihail’s deep voice gained an edge as sharp as the white sword that appeared in his left hand. His eyes brightened, white swirling among the pale blue like a snow storm, and he brought his other hand up and pointed at her. “Then we shall take the creature and perhaps you will be more cooperative.”

  The angel with wild short black hair and silvery eyes swooped from his position above them, a long black spear materialising in his grasp.

  Nevar spread his obsidian wings wide to shield her and kicked upwards, coming to meet the angel and blocking his blow with his two blades. The metallic ring of their weapons clashing reverberated in the hot air and Nevar pushed both of his swords upwards, cutting in twin arcs that drove the angel away from him.

  Nevar growled, beat his wings and launched himself at Mihail, his shoulder barrelling into the angel’s exposed stomach and knocking him backwards. Nevar didn’t stop. He kept sprinting forwards, heading for the hill. He slammed Mihail into it, the force of the impact shaking rocks loose and sending them tumbling down the slope.

  Lysia extended her claws and snarled through her fangs as the biggest of the angels turned his attention on her and the other two went after Nevar. The angel’s pale green eyes swirled darker as his power rose and twin blades shaped like sickles appeared in his hands.

  He spread his pale jade wings.

  He meant to launch himself at her.

  Lysia flicked her left hand forwards and sent him flying through the air with a blast of telekinetic power. He shot towards the hill and crashed into it close to Nevar and Mihail where they fought, creating a deep impact crater. Basalt showered down on the immense pale-haired angel, burying him in the mountain.

  The black-haired one turned cold silver eyes on her and beat his wings, shooting towards her.

  She held her right hand out, her palm facing him, and halted him in mid-air with her power. He snarled in frustration and fought her hold, edging his spear around to point towards her. Sweat broke out across his brow, the exertion etched on his dark face. His power rose, coming to press against hers, and she focused harder, forming a stronger grip on him with her own power.

  The smaller rocks strewn across the plain and down the hill began to rise, drawn upwards by the force of her telekinesis as she battled the angel, struggling to maintain her hold on him.

  A strained grin curved his lips.

  Lysia’s eyes widened as she felt the presence beside her and turned towards the scarlet-haired angel just as he slammed into her side, sending her flying towards the cave. She struck the edge of the entrance and grunted as pain exploded across her side, searing her bones. Her hold on the black-haired angel shattered and she breathed hard as she tried to push herself up and shut down her pain at the same time.

  “Lysia,” Nevar roared and was before her in an instant, shielding her from the wrath of the angels.

  He was a blur of movement as he took them both on, his black blades swiftly moving to block the spear of the darker angel and the twin swords of the lighter one. She couldn’t let him fight alone. She pushed herself up and grabbed hold of the cragged wall of the cave, digging her fingers into the stone to haul herself onto her feet.

  She mustered her strength, fighting to focus through the pain, and threw her hand forwards, knocking both angels away from Nevar. He looked back at her, a flicker of gratitude in his violet eyes, and then quickly brought his two blades up to block the flaming white sword that struck at him, catching it in the V they formed.

  The blow drove him to his knees and he growled, baring emerging fangs, and his arms shook as he tried to force the sword away from his blades.

  Mihail loomed above him and pressed harder, keeping Nevar on his knees.

  “Surrender,” he sneered.

  Nevar growled through his clenched fangs. “Never.”

  The white blade pressed closer to him, the sharp edge nearing his forehead as his arms rippled, every muscle shaking from the exertion. His pain and fear ran through her and she rushed forwards, unwilling to stand by and allow the angel to harm him.

  A silver arc cut across her vision and she stopped dead, her wide eyes locked downwards on the blade held against her throat.

  “No!” Nevar beat his wings, kicking backwards at the same time, breaking free from under Mihail’s blade.

  The white sword struck the basalt ground hard, showering sparks across it and leaving a deep crack in the rock.

  Nevar flicked a glance at her and then settled his gaze back on Mihail.

  He lowered his black blades, set them down on the ground beside his boots, and raised his hands as he straightened.

  “I will go with you. I will speak with Heaven.” He swallowed hard, his violet eyes leaping back to her. “Just don’t hurt her.”

  Mihail looked to the black-haired angel. The man nodded, grabbed Nevar’s shoulder, and twisted him, forcing him face down on the ground. He shoved his knee into Nevar’s back, pinning him, and her warrior unleashed a feral snarl and tried to fight his hold.

  She shook her head, silently begging him not to because she could see the angel’s face and there was only darkness in his eyes, a vicious intent to harm Nevar if he attempted to break free.

  “Do not touch her,” Ne
var growled and clawed at the dirt. “She is not to be touched. Swear it.”

  Mihail waved his hand and the pale-haired angel released her, shifting away to stand beside his crimson-haired companion.

  “She will not be touched. I give you my word.” Mihail lowered his hand and the white blade in his other one disappeared. “Take him.”

  The three other angels grouped together and the black-haired one hauled Nevar off the ground, bringing him onto his knees.

  Nevar stared into her eyes, his pleading her and speaking to her heart. She nodded, letting him know she wouldn’t leave this place. She would wait for him to return to her.

  He would return to her.

  She stepped forwards, obeying the pressing urge to kiss him and hold him, to have him hold her and give her the strength to wait for him without succumbing to the fear growing in her heart, a fear that she would never see him again.

  Bright blue-white light burst across her eyes, blinding her. When her vision came back, Nevar and three of the angels were gone.

  Mihail remained.

  He towered off to her left, a glowering dangerous male who radiated darkness at a level that had her shrinking back a step. No angel should possess such unholy power. It crawled over her skin and set her on edge.

  “What will happen to Nevar?” She couldn’t contain that question. It left her lips before she could consider the consequences of asking it. She didn’t want to hear the answer he gave her but she found she could only stare at him and eagerly await it.

  He looked up at the cavernous black ceiling of Hell, his handsome face giving nothing away, no flicker of emotion or hint of what he would say.

  His ice-blue eyes fell to her, his head remaining tilted back, giving him an evil edge to his appearance.

  “He will have his wish. He will become an angel again as payment for all he has done for Heaven.”

  She swallowed to wet her dry throat and mouth and told herself that the angel spoke true and it was what Nevar wanted, and deserved. He craved it. He wanted to be rid of the evil within him and she wanted that for him too, even though her heart hurt at the thought of it happening. She pressed her hand to it, unsure why the idea of Nevar becoming an angel again saddened her.

  “Will they return Nevar when they have spoken to him about me and have restored him as an angel?” Her voice shook and the pain in her heart increased as she waited to hear what he would say. Nevar had longed to purge the evil and darkness and be good again. She had to be happy for him, she wanted to be happy for him, but for some reason, the tears burning the backs of her eyes and stinging her nose weren’t ones of happiness.

  Mihail dropped his chin and smiled, and she saw everything she despised in angels in him. He was vicious and cruel, and deceitful.

  He deserved to die.

  Her fingers twitched at her sides, her power rising and coming to defend her, fear driving it.

  “No.” That word dropped on her shoulders like a thousand tonnes and they sank lower, her insides pulled down under the incredible weight of that single word. “You can never see each other again.”

  Her heart squeezed in her chest and her blood ran cold, freezing in her veins. “Why not?”

  Mihail took a step towards her, towering above her, an immense and formidable foe whose strength she had felt and knew she couldn’t defend against. He had vowed not to hurt her but she knew better than to believe him. He was an angel after all. All angels meant her harm.

  “The safety of all the realms rests on you and Nevar. You must remain separate.”

  She didn’t believe that. She tipped her chin up and stood her ground, unwilling to waver in the presence of this angel. He was nothing to her. If he dared to raise a hand against her, she wouldn’t hold back. She would unleash all the fires of Hell upon him. This was not his realm. He was weaker here than he was in the mortal realm or in Heaven.

  This was her realm.

  This land fed her power and gave her strength, just as Nevar’s blood flowing in her veins did.

  Blood that connected them.

  “Nevar will return to me. He is my master. He is my male.” She spoke the words with all the confidence she could muster, but inside she didn’t feel as certain.

  Perhaps the angel was right and Nevar wouldn’t want to see her, such a lowly creature born of Hell. She would remind him of the evil he had purged, the darkness he had freed himself from.

  “Nevar will not.” Mihail’s firm unwavering tone crushed the last of her confidence. “He will return to his duties. He will be happy.”

  Something in his icy cold eyes made that difficult to believe. She wanted to say that Nevar could be happy with her. He had been happy with her.

  The angel didn’t give her a chance to tell him that.

  Blue-white light flashed across her eyes and he was gone.

  Lysia stared at the place where Nevar had been before he had disappeared, returned to Heaven for her sake. She wished she had given him that kiss now. She wished she had been able to hold him one last time and feel his arms around her. She scrubbed her palms across her eyes.

  Nevar would finally have what he craved and desired. He would become an angel again, the darkness he hated purged from him, and she would never see him again.

  She was glad for him.

  A tear raced down her cheek and the ground beneath her feet trembled. Her heart ached in her chest, the pain stealing her breath. She fought it and fought for calm, for thoughts that would soothe the hurt tearing her apart inside.

  She was glad he finally had everything he desired.

  The trembling worsened and the black basalt in the plain far below her cracked, lava bubbling up from below and spewing over the edge.

  She really was glad.

  Her claws grew into long black talons and her fangs dropped.

  A huge section of the plain exploded, showering rock and lava across the land and pelting the hill with burning missiles. Massive cracks splintered down the slope, sending chunks of it dropping into the lava-filled abysses. Her gaze narrowed.

  The ground around her fell away, thundering into the plain, leaving her standing on a pinnacle of black rock.

  As far as her eyes could see, lava consumed the land, burning everything away, an echo of the pain laying waste to everything she had dared to feel, to hope for, and to desire.

  Nevar was gone.

  She threw her head back, flung her arms out at her sides and roared out her fury.

  Lava shot from a thousand fissures around her, blasting high into the air.

  He would be an angel now. Angels were deceitful.

  He would not uphold the promise his eyes had given to her, an oath that he would return. He would not uphold the vow he had spoken, swearing that he would always be with her now.

  She pressed her hand to her chest, to the mark pulsing across her skin like fire. A mark she wished no longer connected them. A mark that only brought her pain now, a terrible reminder of the broken promises that would forever haunt her.

  She was alone.

  No. She couldn’t give up on Nevar so easily. She couldn’t believe Mihail over him. She collapsed onto her knees on the spire of rock and stared off into the distance. Purging the evil within him hadn’t been everything to Nevar. It hadn’t been all that he had desired.

  He had desired her too. He had whispered to her in the demon tongue that she was his everything.

  She closed her eyes and focused on the mark, on their connection, feeling him through it.

  He would keep his promises.

  He would never leave her alone.

  Because he loved her, just as she loved him.

  CHAPTER 22

  Asmodeus beat his wings and flew harder, the sense of urgency growing inside him in time with the pain that beat in his heart and flowed through his veins. He pressed his palm to his chest, his black feathered wings working furiously as he pushed past his limit and fought to fly faster.

  The black landscape of the wastelands s
hot by below him, a featureless terrain that rarely changed, but the area ahead of him glowed as if all the fires of Hell had gathered there. The bright golden aura reached the very ceiling of Hell, chasing back the constant shadows that encased it and revealing enormous stalactites that speared downwards, each hundreds of feet long.

  Her agony beat in his chest, driving him to find her. Something had happened. Something terrible.

  The heat rose as he approached the boiling lake of lava that filled a vast expanse of land within a crater. Everything had crumbled into it, succumbing to the wrath that had exploded from the land.

  Everything except a single spire of rock that stood over fifty metres from the curved wall of the crater where it had devoured a section of hill.

  Upon that treacherous tower of basalt knelt a tiny figure, her long black hair fluttering and whipping around her slender shoulders.

  She lifted her head as he approached, flying high above the crater where the heat from the lava couldn’t singe his feathers. The area directly above the spire on which she knelt was cool, as if shielded from the raging fire all around it. He dropped down and landed beside her on the narrow wedge of land and she looked up at him, fathomless sorrow in her violet eyes.

  “Where is Nevar?” He looked around him, at the destruction that had taken place. “What happened here? I sensed your pain and came as fast as I could.”

  She continued to stare up at him and the sight of her tore at his heart. Tear tracks cut through the dark dust on her cheek. She bore a large black bruise on her side. It covered the dip of her waist, ending just above her black shorts, and disappeared under the band of her silver bikini top.

  “Tell me what happened, Lysia,” he murmured softly, hoping to encourage her to speak this time, because he needed to know.

  “The angels came,” she whispered and tried to stand. Her knees gave out, sending her crashing back onto the rocky black ground and the spire wobbled beneath him. He flapped his wings, reassuring himself that they were there if the ground gave way, and caught her arm, helping her onto her bare feet. She trembled beneath his grip. “They came for him and he refused to go with them.”