Fallen: An Angel Romance
Fallen
An Angel Romance
D.G. Whiskey
Edited by
Valorie Clifton
Illustrated by
Mayhem Cover Creations
Contents
Description
Books
Connect With Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Afterword
Steal
Also by D.G. Whiskey
About the Author
Acknowledgments
COPYRIGHT © 2016 D.G. WHISKEY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
As a work of fiction, all people, places, and events are fictional or used in a fictional manner.
This eBook is licensed by the publisher for personal use only.
To Charlotte. For dragons and wine.
Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love.
Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord
Description
Light and Darkness. Heaven and Hell. Angels and Demons.
Angels haven’t interfered in mortal affairs for two thousand years. For Guardian Angel Alexandriel, that needs to change. When a mortal woman with a strange aura is attacked by demons and Dark mages, he can’t stand back any longer. He saves Zara and finds himself craving her, drawn by her unique connection to the Light. As punishment for breaking the rules, he is cast out of Heaven and forced to live a mortal life. Cut off from his powers and his connection to the Light, can he still keep Zara safe? Or will she end up saving him?
Shadows stalk Zara Thompson, an unnatural Darkness that blots out all light. Saved by the exquisite and mysterious Alex, she is pulled into a world of magic in turmoil, caught in the battle between the Light and the Darkness. Shocked out of a routine of loneliness and poverty, Zara feels an intense connection with her savior unlike any she’s ever experienced. The greatest surprise of all? She has deep and fascinating powers of her own.
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STANDALONES:
Pulse: A Stepbrother Romance
Steal: A Bad Boy Romance
Royal Rogue: British Bad Boy Romance
Shaken - A Football Romance
Fallen: An Angel Romance
DEVEREUX NOVELS:
Capturing Liberty
Taking Flight
Chasing Charity
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Chapter 1
The only thing that shocked Alexandriel more than the woman stumbling into him was the way she looked into his eyes after he caught her.
“I’m so sorry,” the diminutive blonde said, her eyes an electric crystal blue at odds with the deferential tone of her voice. “Thank you for catching me.”
As soon as she found her feet, she was gone, hurrying along the darkened sidewalk in the direction she’d been walking.
Alexandriel stopped in the middle of the crowded New York City sidewalk and stared after her. No one complained about him blocking the way—they couldn’t see him. They couldn’t touch him, either. A man with shiny black leather shoes and a crisp suit pushed his way through the other pedestrians, walking through Alexandriel’s chest as he went, never suspecting the angel’s presence.
No mortal could see him unless he wanted to be seen.
But one had.
The others on the streets faded from Alexandriel’s view, his otherworldly senses focused on one particular blonde head bobbing rapidly away from him. He hadn’t had time to ponder the import of what had just happened, his only goal now to ensure that this curious mortal didn’t get away from him.
He hastened in pursuit, his task made easier by the ability to pass through people, objects and buildings as though they were only a mirage. He considered stretching his wings to follow from above, but the way she’d seen him when he wasn’t broadcasting his presence inspired a stealthier approach.
Not just able to see me. She ran into me!
The short woman had left the busy street bursting with nightlife and turned down a quieter side road. Alexandriel followed but walked through the brick wall next to the sidewalk to keep out of sight. He could see through the wall without issue, and even if she could see through the veils of magic he used to shield himself from mortal eyes, she wouldn’t be able to see through walls.
There was nothing obviously different about the woman. To Alexandriel’s admittedly unpracticed gaze, little set her apart from other human women. Her eyes may have been more intense than most, more like an angel’s, but he didn’t make a habit of staring into mortal eyes.
But those eyes saw him, and that body had felt his angelic form. It was the first time he’d ever brushed against a mortal, and it unsettled him.
Could she be a Light mage?
Only the most powerful Light mages could have seen angels at will, and none of those were left on Earth. Maybe it was a quirk of genetics passed down along with magical abilities.
He extended his magical senses to read her aura.
She lacked the telltale white aura of a Light mage, instead sporting Light and Dark in near equal measures like a normal mortal. Something about her felt different, but Alexandriel couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Only an archangel could peer deep into a mortal soul to see their relationship with the Light. He had to settle for taking in her aura, the projection any angel could see. Everything in her aura felt deeper, richer than any he’d ever touched. It was heady, intoxicating, and he pulled back his mental touch before he got sucked in too deeply to retrieve himself.
What is she?
His inexperience with humans frustrated him once more. He’d only been on Earth for a hundred years, and most of that had been spent as a passive observer in sparsely populated regions of the world. What were the odds this woman wasn’t an anomaly, but held a trait common enough that the other Guardians hadn’t bothered to mention it?
No matter. She intrigued him enough to draw his attention to where he lost track of the church procession he’d been keeping an eye on—his original task that evening.
He bounded ahead of her, his angelic form outpacing the human with minimal effort, remaining hidden inside the building beside her so he could watch her face without fear of being spotted. He halted inside a restaurant’s freezer room, not paying attention to his immediate surroundings, and frost gathered on the tips of his wings. The low temperature could not hurt one such as him—he barely noticed.
The blue eyes were piercing even when not affixed to his own. Jewel-like, they lent strength to an otherwise delicate face, her bone structure fine, bordering on aristocratic. Humans might even call her features angelic. Alexandriel loosed a snort. Mortals claimed all sorts of descriptors they had no right to.
Should I intercept her? Talk to her?
The thought came unbidden, and Alexandriel knew it was foolish even before it expressed itself. He’d never spoken with a mortal. It had been forbidden since the great pullback millennia ago. His superiors would keep him penned up in
Heaven if he interfered with mortal matters again so soon after his last indiscretion.
His jaw set, thinking about those superiors and their lack of spine. If they had their way, angels would abandon the Earth to Lucifer’s plots.
Even watching the woman may risk too much. The longer he looked on her face, the more time he spent this close to her aura, the more he wanted.
I should leave.
It was the correct course of action, but it felt wrong. He’d never felt the tug of destiny before, that calling that some angels claimed was a directive from the Light, but there was something that pulled on him, drew him to the woman with the eyes of sapphire.
She’d passed him again, carrying on in her rushed but smooth gait. Alexandriel prepared himself to let her go, planting his feet and telling them not to give chase once she turned the next corner.
This is the right choice.
He wouldn’t turn away until she was out of sight. That was the least he could do for himself, his reward for cutting himself off from this entrancing mortal.
Wait, what’s that?
Shadows followed the woman. Her own, but also several others that stuck to the walls and crept along behind her, out of sight and hidden in the depths of night.
His resolution forgotten, Alexandriel redoubled his efforts to cloak his presence and took to the skies, drifting above the street.
Zara stumbled and nearly fell, cursing internally as pain blossomed in her toe from the stub.
The man she fell into caught her, holding her for a moment until she could regain her footing. She apologized and thanked the man, the words leaving her lips in a whisper as she looked into his face.
Oh, my.
His beauty was striking—she’d never seen a face like his. Like he’d been carved by a master sculptor, the proud jaw outlined a face dominated by high cheekbones and intense emerald eyes. His arms around her gave her a boost of energy, her heart beating faster and stronger in her chest. The pain in her toe faded to a distant memory. The lights around her felt brighter, sharper in the night.
If her mother had taught her to believe in fairytales and love at first sight, Zara might have been caught up in the moment. Instead, Susan Thompson had instilled a deep sense of distrust toward men in her daughter.
Before she could drag things out and make them even more awkward, she slipped out of his arms and carried on her way. Her soul screamed at her to look back at the statuesque man and see if he did the same, if he’d felt the same connection. Her mind wasn’t having any of it.
Shush, she told herself. Falling for the first pretty face you literally run into on the street is exactly the kind of thing Mom warned you against.
Susan hadn’t had the luxury of creating a sheltered world for her daughter to grow up in. They had neither the time nor money to waste on such illusions.
And neither do I. Patricia will fire me this week, I know it.
Zara had been in trouble ever since the woman took over from Vanessa. Patricia had never liked her for reasons Zara couldn’t fathom, and when Vanessa announced that she was pregnant and taking a year off from the salon, Zara had begun counting the days. It was only two weeks later, and Patricia blamed her for anything that went even remotely wrong in the salon.
The thought of going on the job hunt again gave Zara the nervous shakes. No matter how much she practiced before interviews, she couldn’t help but freeze up and forget everything about herself and why she’d be a good employee.
If only I didn’t have to work. I wonder if mystery man has a good job? There’s no way he looks like that and isn’t rich.
She wrapped herself in a daydream fantasy of marrying a kind, rich man who treated her nicely and paid her way.
“Stop that,” she muttered out loud this time, embarrassed that she’d even entertained such thoughts. “You can’t trust a man to take care of your problems.”
As hard as she tried to stomp on thoughts of the stranger from earlier, new ones popped up, spreading through her mind like weeds. Gorgeous, useless weeds.
A sudden scuff behind her made Zara twirl and freeze, eyes darting around the narrow, empty street.
Zara had been walking on autopilot, feet flying in the fast pace that had become her normal stride after moving into the city. Unable to afford an apartment in one of the nicer areas of the city, she was wary of the reputation held by these streets. Even when her thoughts were occupied, part of her mind paid attention to her surroundings.
It’s fine. There’s no one there.
She told herself that, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread, that something watched her and bided its time. Out of reflex, she hummed a simple tune that always helped calm her when she got stressed.
Patricia had put her on all the worst shifts. After closing the salon on Saturday night, Zara still had another hour on the subway and a bus before walking the rest of the way home, and all she wanted was to curl up on her couch with a good book and a bowl of popcorn and escape into another world. A better world. One without all the problems that dragged on her every hour of every day.
I won’t be able to make rent this month if Patricia fires me.
The fear had been lurking in the back of her mind for two weeks, too dark and visceral to acknowledge. The darkness and stab of fright had knocked it loose.
Mood stormy, Zara picked up the pace, charging down the block, rounding the street corner that would take her the rest of the way home.
A giant brute of a man stood in her way around the corner.
Her breakneck pace didn’t give her time to react. All she could do was try, and fail, to stop herself before she bumped into a man’s chest for the second time that night.
“Looking for someone special, are ya, girl?”
This man didn’t look as welcoming and secure as the earlier one had. His dark, almost black eyebrows jutted out far in the streetlight, hiding his deep-set eyes in the shadows of his craggy face.
Zara’s mind launched into a set of quick and complex mental calculations, the kind that every woman did when meeting a stranger on an empty street at night.
What will give me the best chance of getting home safely?
He was a monster of a man. Not that Zara was tall, but he towered over her, well over six feet and perhaps approaching seven, with a mass of bulk to fortify that frame. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him if he intended to give her trouble. A knee to his groin didn’t seem likely to work, either, against such an imposing figure.
Was there anyone around to hear her scream for help?
Zara looked around. Not at this time of night in this out of the way section of the city.
She’d have to talk her way out of it.
“Nothing special,” Zara said. “Just looking to get home.”
As she spoke, she edged to the side, hoping he would let her get around him and continue on her way. Instead, he moved with her, keeping himself firmly in her path.
“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” the man asked. “Think yer too good ta talk with me?”
She gave up trying to get around the man and instead backed up a step to put distance between them.
“I’m just tired. I’ve had a long day.”
The man crossed his arms over his chest and grinned, but at least he didn’t step toward her. “You ain’t the only one ta work a long day. We all want a reward, don’t we?”
Zara ignored his words, looking around, hoping for an easy way out. She looked back the way she came, thinking she should just turn around and look for another route home, only to see another man in black approaching.
Her hopes for a savior were dashed by the man’s words.
“Well look what we’ve got here, Silas. If it ain’t a pretty young thing of our very own.”
The newcomer flashed a wolfish grin, the look of a predator who knew his prey was cornered. It suited the wild black beard that covered his face, a thicket of hair that looked like it belonged on a wild animal.
Susan Thompson
’s voice drifted through Zara’s mind. Men are base creatures who only care about money, power and sex. That’s all any of them ever want from you, and you don’t need to take crap from any of them, you hear me?
Zara grimaced. Too bad her mother hadn’t given her a way to get out of this situation.
“Let me go,” Zara said. She thrust her hand into her purse and dug around. “I’ve got mace, and I’ll empty the entire thing into your eyes if you don’t walk away right now.”
Five seconds of searching felt like an eternity, but that’s all it took to remember that she’d lost her old can of mace and hadn’t been able to afford a replacement yet.
Crap.
She kept up the facade for a moment, hoping it would scare off the attackers, but no hint of hesitation showed on their faces.
The man with the black beard chuckled. “Relax, girl. You’re in good hands, and you’ll be taken care of before you even know it. Silas, grab her when I drop the Darkness.”
He raised a hand, and everything went black.
Zara gasped, unable to believe how dark it got. She couldn’t see anything at all, as if her eyes had stopped working.
A hand latched onto her wrist, the grip iron tight. Zara struggled to pull her hand back, but a wave of weakness overcame her and sapped her strength so much that even keeping to her feet was difficult. Her legs and arms were shaky, like she’d just sprinted two miles uphill.
Every second, the weakness grew, driving her head down, making it hard to care or even remember what was happening.
You’re being attacked!
Zara wasn’t sure that’s what was happening, but she didn’t think she wanted to know what these men planned for her. All she knew was that she had to escape. No one else would do it for her—she was responsible for herself. She always had been.