Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) by Felicity Heaton Page B
Authors: Felicity Heaton
Tags: Nightmare
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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
“ W retch.” 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
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
“ W retch.” 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
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