Cassiela
Book 2 Abbey of Angels
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Hephaestion Media
Gripped by crazed jealousy, the Angel of Death gave up on his
happily ever after, until the day a shy redhead appeared. Could she be the cure
Azrael’s madness?
Cassiela is plagued with lustful thoughts of the Angel she’s
assigned to guard. Once bitten, Cassie is twice shy from the moment she sets eyes
on Azrael. Lost in his dark eyes and easy smile, the Angel of Deliverance finds
old hurt and pain coming back to haunt her—in more ways than one.
One Angel will stop at nothing to keep Rae and
Cassie from claiming the life they never expected to have. A battle to rival
the Great War in Heaven is begun by Rae and Cassiela’s need and love for one
another. Will something even they never expected, and are unwilling to give up,
turn the earth into a battle ground, and the lovers facing off against the
biggest Angel of them all?
Excerpt
Chapter One
My day turned to shit
faster than a vampire high on junkie blood. One moment, I was enjoying a quiet
cup of lavender tea under an apple tree in the orchard outside my room, the
wind lifting the hem of my sundress, flashing my pale knees to anyone near
enough to see. The next moment, I stood dressed in dark green, leather warrior
gear in an unfamiliar room resembling the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.
“What’s going on? Why am
I here and in this outrageous getup?”
Verchiel, the second in
command of the Angels of Power, cocked a jet black eyebrow at me. “Hell if I
know, Cassiela. The Protector said to fetch the Angels of Deliverance and
Silence and get both your asses over here, so voila.”
I surveyed the
debris-filled room and its occupants with mild curiosity. The twisted remnants
of what appeared to be a bed littered the floor. Tufts of mattress stuffing
floated through the air. What in hell had gone on here?
The Angel of Power
explained that Metatron, the Angel of Creation, had left moments earlier with
another Angel and her werewolf mate in tow. Those left were Zacharael—another
Angel of Power, Silence, myself, and one I sensed to be the Angel of Death
lying broken in the corner. Silence, my best friend—dressed in gear colored her
trademark sooty gray—looked ridiculous in the ill-fitting clothes. I
sympathized with the gangly, bookish angel as she fidgeted on the other side of
Verchiel.
“But, Silence and I are
clerics. Unless you want one of us to write an account of what this room looks
like, we’re out of place here.”
The big guy shrugged
and, hearing Zacharael call for assistance, turned toward the broken Angel in
the corner. A stretcher lay on the floor and, despite his size, Zach was unable
to move the injured man alone.
“Come lend Zach a hand,
Cassie. You too, Silence. Azrael’s got some nasty injuries and we’ll have to
move him with care,” Verchiel said with a sneer on the last word.
I looked over the fallen
Angel everyone had been chasing for the last month. A big man, the bulge and
lines of his muscles were well defined beneath the shredded clothes and coating
of blood covering him from head to toe. Blue eyes blazed from beneath dark
brows. Walking over to the corner, I couldn’t help but notice his straight, regal
nose above indecently sexy lips—ones that seemed to beg to be kissed.
Crap, what am I doing? I shook my head and sighed as I bent to
help move Death onto the stretcher. Remember
where the last handsome face got you, Cassie. Remember.
“On three.” Zacharael
knelt at the other end of the stretcher and had a hand under each of the
Angel’s shoulders. One was clearly dislocated given the odd angle at which the
arm sat. “Three.”
Death screamed in pain
as we moved his broken body onto the stretcher in fits and starts. Silence and
I hadn’t expected Zach to jump straight to three and were late to join the fray
when he and Verchiel moved the rest of him over. “Jesus, Zach, a little warning
next time would be nice.”
“Why? Azrael deserves
whatever he gets, and then some, after what he did to Ardeur.” Zacharael
wrapped a hand around one of the handles of the stretcher and motioned for the
rest of us to follow suit. “Crazy or not, you don’t tamper with another man’s
mate.”
Verchiel chuckled and
shook his head as he bent and picked up his own handle. “Up we go, kiddies.
Lift.”
The stretcher cleared
the floor and I looked down at the empty outline Death’s body left in the
debris. In the blink of an eye, we were in the antechamber of the Angelic
Council Chambers.
~*~
Azrael lay in a
pain-filled world. He’d made breakfast for the exquisite Angel in his bed that
morning and spent a pleasant moment chatting with her about the children she
was carrying.
All of that had gone
straight to hell when his twin, Metatron, showed up with a few of his friends
and proceeded to rip his idyllic world apart. The werewolf Tate brought along
for the ride had not only broken Azrael’s skull, but had shattered his left
femur and dislocated his right shoulder as well. The crazy bastard even had the
audacity to growl about Rae’s woman and children being his family.
As if Ardy would ever
give herself to a hideous beast; she had him to love her as she deserved and
fill her belly with adorable Angel babies.
Insult was added to
injury after they whisked his golden beauty away. Zacharael and Verchiel, both
Angels of Power, slapped an angelicore collar on him to jam all of the power
the gold cuffs they locked on his wrists didn’t block. He was as helpless as
the humans they were designed to protect and watch over. Yeah, his life sucked
right now.
There he lay, Azrael—the
biggest, baddest of the Angels of Death—reduced to a powerless mass of pain on
a stretcher in the great hall outside the Court of Angels with Zacharael,
Verchiel and two female Angels he couldn’t recall meeting before. They waited
for their orders and he waited for his fate to be decided upon.
Azrael understood why
the Powers were there; Zach and Verchiel were two of the strongest soldiers
amongst their ranks. When it came to reeling in an Angel of Death, especially
one as strong him, who better to send than the Powers? What didn’t make sense
were the two females present. They weren’t warrior Angels, he was sure of it.
The fidgeting in their leathers told him the women weren’t used to wearing
warrior gear.
Since moving his eyes
was the only thing Rae could manage without causing an avalanche of pain, he
studied the others while they watched the ten-foot solid gold doors for signs
of movement. The redheaded female with pale green eyes turned to look at the
other female Angel. This one stood silent, tight jet black ringlets cascading
down her back and citrine eyes focused on the entrance they all waited to pass
through.
“What are we waiting
for, Zacharael?” said the redhead, still fidgeting. Short, pink oval nails
worried the seam of her dark green leather pants and her feet shuffled against
the marble floor.
Verchiel sneered and
answered instead. “Probably Michael. For one as exalted as he is, the boy has
some serious OCD issues.” His amethyst eyes glittered at her. “He’s got a stick
up his ass when it comes to making sure all his I’s are dotted and T’s
crossed.”
The blush creeping over
the skin of the red-haired one was lovely but paled in comparison to Ardeur’s.
The color filling the Angel’s cheeks made him want Ardy more. “You shouldn’t
speak of the Protector in such a way, Verchiel,” she said.
“Or what? He’ll lob an
energy blast at me and sentence me to a century among the humans?” The Angel of
Power rolled his eyes and grinned at her. “Please, Deliverance. He can’t afford
to lose me and he knows it. Unlike this poor bastard,” Verchiel nudged Azrael’s
injured shoulder with the tip of a boot and earned an angry snarl for all the
pain the touch sent racing through his battered body. “I’m not replaceable.”
Deliverance? Rae’s eyes
swung from the red-haired Angel of Deliverance to what must be the raven-haired
Angel of Silence as some of the pieces fell into place. Silence and Deliverance
went everywhere together, but why were they there? The two women weren’t
warriors or guardians and their presence puzzled him more than anything else.
Deliverance was saved
from having to respond by the creak of hinges. The doors to the Court groaned
as they were pushed open by what Azrael knew was a host of cherubim to reveal
the seven Archangels seated at the far end. The four who stood guard over him
each grasped a corner of the stretcher Rae lay upon and carried it into the
bright Court of Angels.
Azrael blinked at the
blinding light, which set off sunbursts of pain inside his poor bashed-in head.
The damn werewolf cracked his skull when he’d pounded it into the floor. Though
the pain in his shattered leg and dislocated shoulder had lessened, it roared
back to life with each jostling step toward the fate that Azrael’s brethren
believed fit the list of crimes they claimed he committed against one of their
own.
The one voice he had
hoped not to hear called out from somewhere ahead of the procession, “Bring the
offender forward so that he may be healed and sentenced.”
Michael. Damn. The Protector would not go easy on him. Azrael
never cared for the arrogant bastard and the sentiment had been more than
mutual. It was no wonder the golden boy was there. He’d made it a point to be
present whenever Rae’s ass was called on the carpet and, now that he’d
committed a laundry list of crimes against one of their own, the bastard showed
up to ensure the full letter of their laws was enforced.
Another round of pain
shot through Rae when the four who’d been carrying his stretcher put it down
without any sense of delicacy. “You assholes best be careful. My Ardy is an
Angel of Anger and Wrath. Keep treating me badly and she’ll kick your asses.”
Deafening silence
greeted his statement.
“Death appears to have
lost his mind, my lords.” Zacharael stepped forward and knelt at the base of
the platform where the seven most powerful Angels ruled.
Verchiel snickered next
to Deliverance. “More like joined the cast of Loony Tunes. Wiley Coyote’s got nothing on this crazy nut.”
“Please try to remember
where you are, Verchiel.” Raphael descended to the floor and knelt by the
stretcher. He touched a hand to Rae’s dislocated shoulder and the delicate
touch brought on a flinch with the renewed pain it caused. “Rest easy, Azrael.
Your pain will lessen in a moment.”
The green glow of
Raphael’s healing touch forced Rae’s eyes shut. An intense ache began, akin to
someone using his head to scramble omelets. “Where’s Ardeur? Where did you take
her? Are my children alright?”
“They are not your
children, Death. You are not capable of parentage with Ardeur. It is the nature
of our kind; you know my words are truth.”
It served no point to
lose his cool in a room filled with some of the most powerful of Angel-kind.
Azrael knew they would silence his words without warning and speaking out would
only worsen the sentence.
“Wise of you to keep
your tongue, Azrael.” Raphael patted the healed shoulder and helped Rae into a
kneeling position. He was denied the right to stand and face the room as a
peer; his claims of innocence would fall on deaf ears.
Being guilty didn’t
prevent him from facing off against Michael with the most insolent and
disrespectful look he could muster. “So, Michael, what’s the verdict? A
millennium in your service, or maybe eternity as a human? Both would be equally
torturous.”
Michael sighed and fixed
his sapphire eyes on the stormy blue ones several feet below him. “No, you
would enjoy either too much and we are not here to provide you with
entertainment. You will be stripped of all power except that which allows you
to usher souls. You will only escort those of infants and children.
“Doesn’t sound too bad,”
Azrael shrugged with his newly healed shoulder. The smile beginning to curve
his lips was cut off by Michael’s next words.
“Tartarus will be shut
to you and your rank as ruler there shall be conferred to another more worthy
of the role. Your wings will be clipped, their pain a daily reminder of what
you inflicted upon another.” Michael stepped down from the platform and walked
a slow circle around the group of lower ranking angels. “You will spend your
time between souls confined to the grounds of the Abbey. Silence and
Deliverance will be your guards. The portion of soul which you gave to Ardeur
has been removed so that you may never find her again.”
His words sparked a
deep-seated horror at what they’d done. Michael and his band of toadies had
cursed him to the worst kind of fate. “No. Not my Ardy. You can’t take her from
me!”
Zadkiel, the most
merciful of the Archangels, stood and approached. “You will have plenty of time
to reflect on what you have done. See that you learn the error of your ways.”
~*~
Tyndle and I exchanged
shocked looks at the news of our assignment to watch over the disgraced Angel.
It wasn’t difficult for me to read Silence’s reaction.
“My lords, we aren’t
warriors. Aren’t there others more suitable to such a task as you have set for
Silence and me?”
Michael stood at my side
and touched a gentle hand to the dark red curls hanging down my back. He
offered a benevolent smile while petting my hair. Too busy wallowing in my own
anxiety over the situation, I didn’t notice how creepy the touch felt or that
the smile didn’t quite reach the Protector’s eyes. “You have been chosen for a
reason, Deliverance. In time, you will learn why. ”
A gentle nudge from my
friend forced a sigh from my lips. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Then it is settled.”
Michael cupped both of our faces and smiled. “You will guard Azrael day and
night for the period of six hundred years and no less.”
I looked down at the Angel of Death and saw
the insanity lurking behind the handsome face. “Six centuries?” My knees went
weak and a pair of strong arms wrapped around my shoulders before the world
went black.
~*~
Ardeur
Book 1 Abbey of Angels
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Hephaestion Media
Born a necromancer…
Sold by parents who wanted a
normal child, Ardeur Lisle now hosts a demon and was
trained to be a killer for hire. As an adult possessed, dreaming of escape and
of a kind face from her childhood helps keep her sane.
If she breaks free from her
captors, what will this new world full of paranormal beings hold for her?
Ridding herself of her demon parasite will be her first priority.
A promise kept...
Brody Callaghan never forgot
the angelic blonde from his childhood. After years of military service, he
swears to track down the face still haunting him from his youth.
But Brody has a furry secret of
his own; one unveiled with each full moon. Will the two hold onto love with
danger, deception, and an obsessed angel driving them apart?
About
the Author:
Danielle Gavan lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband and
their two sons.
She loves a good book and is usually found with her nose in
one. Danielle has an extensive list of them on her book pile. When she's not
writing or reading, Danielle keeps herself busy designing book covers and working
as a publicist.
Her guilty pleasures are her favorite television shows Lost
Girl, Ghost Hunters International and Hawaii Five-0.
Find Danielle on the web:
