Messenger's Angel (Lost Angels) - Softcover

Killough-Walden, Heather

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451237315 ISBN 13: 9780451237316

Verlag: Signet Eclipse, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

When he finally finds the woman he is destined to spend all of eternity with, Gabriel, a powerful archangel, claims Juliette Anderson as his own until a familiar dark forces rises and the truth of Juliette's incredible identity is revealed. Original. 75,000 first printing.

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Long ago, the Old Man gathered together his four favored archangels, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Azrael. He pointed to four stars in the sky that shone brighter than the others. He told the archangels that he wished to reward them for their loyalty and had created for them soul mates. Four perfect female beings—archesses.

However, before the archangels could claim their mates, the four archesses were lost to them and scattered to the wind, beyond their realm and reach. The archangels made the choice to leave their world, journey to Earth, and seek out their mates.

For thousands of years, the archangels have searched. But they have not searched alone. For they are not the only entities to leave their realm and come to Earth to hunt for the archesses. They were followed by another. . . .

* * *

Juliette sidled back on the massive four-poster bed, a remotely hesitant part of her still wanting to get away. But the angel smiled a rakish smile and moved over her like a massive cat, graceful and deadly, and she didn’t get far. He skillfully caught her wrists in firm grips and had her pinned before she could blink.

Juliette lay there, her breathing quick and sharp, and stared up at the taut muscles of his arms, chest, and torso. Her gaze boldly trailed across the tanned expanse of toned flesh . . . to where the rest of his body was hidden beyond the unbuttoned waistband of his blue jeans.

Her mouth felt both wet and dry; her heart hammered; her hands flexed beneath the viselike grips he had on her delicate wrists. The castle around them loomed in her periphery, empty yet protective. It felt both ancient and brand-new; its walls were crumbling, enshrouded by the echoes of the tapestries and torch sconces they once held.

The master’s chamber was warmed by the crackling of the flames in the giant stone hearth. And it was chilled by the North Sea wind that ripped through the timeworn windows and raced through the empty, ruined room.

The castle was a skeleton and a ghost, broken down to its barest bones and draped in the memory of what it once was.

The angel, though—he was warm. He was not a ghost. His body was hard and insistent and very, very real above her. He lowered his head to slide his gaze down the length of her slim body, and as he shifted, she once more caught sight of the massive black and silver wings at his back. Their feathers shimmered, iridescent in the shafts of moonlight that speared the empty windows and lit the stage of their clandestine play.

So beautiful, she thought absently.

He looked up and met her gaze, and she found herself at once lost in the strange glowing silver of his eyes.

They’re glowing, she thought in awe.

He pinned her to the bed beneath him with that look; it claimed her, possessed her, and she was certain that no man in the world had ever looked at her—not really—until the angel had.

Juliette knew she was blushing. Her cheeks were hot, and her chest was flushed. Her breasts felt warm and heavy, even as her nipples hardened to painful nubs that scraped the inside of her shirt. Breathing was hard. She wanted to arch beneath him, close the gap he held above her. She wanted to touch him as she’d never wanted anything before.

He stared down at her forever, watching her, taking her in. He was eating her with his eyes and her chest felt tight. She couldn’t take it. His control over her body was absolute. It was as if he willed it and wetness gathered between her legs. As if he knew it was there, he chuckled. The sound rushed over her skin like a caress, deep and deliciously wicked. She shuddered and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to writhe beneath him. She almost broke then. She almost begged him to take her.

What’s wrong with me? she thought. This wasn’t like her. She never gave in easily. She was stubborn to the core. What was happening? How had she let this angel get her into bed? Hadn’t she just met him?

I don’t even know his name. . . .

Her eyes flew open when she felt the butterfly softness of his lips brushing against hers. Teasingly, he pulled back and once more locked her in his inhuman gaze. He said not a word, but smiled that faintly cruel smile of his, flashing teeth both straight and white. In the frame of his too-handsome face, it was nothing short of predatory. And then he put both of her slender wrists in one of his strong hands and used the other to grab the front of her button-up shirt.

The material pulled taut in his grip, scraping her tender nipples and ripping a gasp from her lips. Slowly, almost menacingly, he popped the buttons on the shirt, one after another. And then he let the material slide across her rib cage, opening her body to his stark, hungry gaze.

Now she did moan. The wind rushed across her exposed skin, licking at it hungrily, tightening her nipples beneath him to a painful degree.

He’s going to devour me, she thought. And she didn’t care.

His wings lowered gracefully over the edges of the bed, their silver and raven feathers blocking her from the wind. Then he lowered his head and she felt his hot breath, in stark contrast to the cold, across the hypersensitive flesh of her right breast. She tensed in his grasp, pulling hard against the hold he had on her arms. He held her easily, though, and his tongue flicked out to brush across the tip of her nipple. She jumped in his grasp, crying out at the sensation, but again he held her tight, and again his chuckle rumbled across her skin like silken thunder.

“Please,” she gasped. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. This was just too much. Too strange and perfect. Too much. Angels weren’t supposed to torture people, were they?

With that, the angel lowered himself closer. She felt the tips of her erect nipples brush the hardness of his chest and nearly jumped again. But he distracted her when he used his free hand to shove her tiered miniskirt up her slender thigh. She groaned once more in longing as his hand then roamed across the taut cheeks of her bottom. No underwear . . .

She felt his breath at her ear, cascading goose bumps over her skin. “My pleasure,” he whispered. His hand sank lower.

“. . . tray tables stowed and seat backs in an upright position . . .”

Juliette jolted awake in her seat as the pilot made the announcement that they were coming in for a landing.

The man seated beside her gave her a knowing sideways glance. Juliette blushed, swallowing a groan of embarrassment, and turned to steadfastly stare out the window. Her reflection stared back at her: long, rich brown waves, big hazel eyes that were mostly green at the moment, and flushed cheeks and lips—remnants of her dream.

It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of crumbling castles and ghostlike figures. Some nights, she was walking through a Scottish kirkyard, ancient, worn, and collapsing, yet filled with fresh graves and newly chiseled headstones. Other nights she made her way through castles, as she had in this dream. They were ruins and yet they weren’t—she saw the images of what they had once been draped over them like the cloying memories of glory days.

She’d always had dreams like this. Dreams of the past and the present, intermingling and poignant. It was one of the reasons she’d decided to become an anthropologist. The past and its stories intrigued her. It was more than that, even. . . . They called to her.

But this was the first...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Signet Eclipse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2012
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0451237315
• ISBN 13: 9780451237316
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 408
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar