Showing posts with label Felicity Heaton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Felicity Heaton. Show all posts

Friday, April 23, 2021

Tour & Giveaway: Scorched by Darkness by Felicity Heaton

 

New York Times best-selling paranormal romance author Felicity Heaton is here today for the book tour of her new paranormal romance release, Scorched by Darkness, the latest release in her popular Eternal Mates world.

There are now eighteen books in this series, but don’t worry, you can dive right on in with Scorched by Darkness, or start at the very beginning with Kissed by a Dark Prince, which is FREE at all retailers right now. Binge-read to your heart’s content!

If you love big worlds packed with detail and every paranormal species imaginable, together with hot alpha heroes and strong heroines bringing them to their knees, then this series is definitely for you. Plus, each book has a happily forever after and there are no cliff-hangers, because there’s nothing worse than a cliff-hanger!

 

About the Book

by Felicity Heaton
Even for one of the top assassins in Hell like him, Hartt’s latest contract would have been difficult enough, but there’s a complication—a beautiful, flame-haired, and dangerously tempting complication. Not only is the bewitching female a distraction he doesn’t need—she’s the competition.

Mackenzie’s life hasn’t been easy. Held captive by blood mages who murdered her family, forced to spend every day guarding her secret, and now she lands the biggest contract ever—one that would set her assassin’s guild up as one of the best in Hell—and it turns out her client hasn’t only hired her. He’s hired the top guild in Hell too. Worse, the male she’s up against is wickedly alluring, a dark elf warrior who sets her blood on fire, and the heat that sparks between them is in danger of burning her resolve to take him down to ashes.

It’s a race against time and each other to fulfil the contract by taking out one of the most dangerous men in Hell, a vampire with a name befitting of his bloody history, but who will be the one to claim victory—one of them or the King of Death?

Find out in Scorched by Darkness, an enemies-to-lovers fated mates paranormal romance that will set your heart on fire!

 

Purchase Links

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.ca | Amazon.com.au
iBooks USA | iBooks UK | iBooks Canada | iBooks Australia | iBooks New Zealand
Barnes and Noble | Kobo Books | Google Play

 

Enter the grand tour-wide giveaway to win one of a $75, $50 or $25 Amazon Gift Card at the Scorched by Darkness book page. This giveaway is international and open to everyone, and ends at midnight on May 2nd. Enter now: http://www.felicityheaton.com/scorched-by-darkness-paranormal-romance-novel.php

 

Excerpt

Fuming wasn’t a strong enough word for how Mackenzie was feeling. Furious? Filled with rage? Liable to detonate at a moment’s notice? That one seemed to convey the fire that burned up her blood and ignited something dangerous inside her as she searched for the male she had spotted.

That fire only blazed hotter as she finally located him on a rooftop overlooking the square, felt his gaze light on her as a shiver that cascaded over her entire body.

And then he was gone.

She clenched her jaw and cursed him as he sprinted across the rooftops, leaping alleys with ease.

Closing in on her mark.

Another bloody assassin!

Worse, he was an elf.

That could only mean one thing—her client had some explaining to do.

She was sure he was the reason the most renowned assassin’s guild in Hell just tossed their hat into the ring and was following her mark.

Mackenzie was swift to move, slipped through the crowd and worked her way back to the raised walkway where she had been when she had first spotted the other assassin. Where the sight of him had completely arrested her, bewitching her as if he was a mage rather than an elf. Her blood chilled at that word. Mage. She shook it off, together with the unsettling effect the elf had on her, and bit out another ripe curse as she checked his position.

The black-haired bastard was above the target now, looming at the edge of the roof, peering down at them and looking for all the world as if he was contemplating leaping on them.

Maybe he was.

Damn him. He was forcing her hand. She hadn’t come here to take down her mark, wasn’t appropriately armed for a kill.

She had come here to follow up a lead, part of her not expecting the vampire to be here tonight. Her plan had been to study him if he was and see what she could learn about him, to gather intelligence she could use to form a plan of attack. She regretted not bringing her arsenal with her now, but she hadn’t known she would have competition.

She was going to have to improvise.

Another, fouler, curse rolled off her tongue as five demons formed a blockade ahead of her. She sprinted right at them, unwilling to let them slow her down, fear a potent motivator as her gaze flicked to the elf again and then to her target as the idiot stopped right below him.

She nimbly leaped, slapped her left hand down on the shoulder of one of the big males and ran up the wall behind him. The demon grunted as she shoved off, growled as he twisted towards her, and she landed and ducked beneath the meaty fist he swung at her.

“Sorry!” she hollered over her shoulder without slowing.

She checked the elf again. Still there. What was he waiting for?

Her focus darted back to the mark.

He wasn’t alone.

The dark-haired male turned towards his companion—a stunningly beautiful woman with long white hair and curves to die for wrapped in cerulean leather.

A phantom made flesh.

The intel Jasynder had gathered for her was right then. The vampire was mated to a phantom. She could understand why the elf was hesitating now. Getting on the wrong side of a phantom was a sure-fire way of getting your soul devoured. It only took one kiss and the elf would be toast. Of course, the terrifying woman could kill Mackenzie just as easily with the same tactic, but phantoms were all female and preferred to turn males into ghosts to either use for procreation or to kill by draining their life essence.

Chances were high that if she and the elf both attacked at the same time, the phantom would target him, leaving Mackenzie open to take down the mark.

Which was going to be easier said than done. This vampire had a bloody reputation, led the fiercest legion of the Preux Chevaliers—an organisation of vampire mercenaries in Hell. Taking him down was going to be hard, and it was going to require some finesse if she didn’t want to die in the process, or before she could deal a fatal blow on him, but it would be worth it.

This contract was a huge deal for her guild.

Judging by the sour look on the elf’s face as he glared down at the couple and then at Mackenzie, it was a big deal for him too.

She glanced back at the mark.

“Shit!” she muttered as she saw they were gone.

She halted at the edge of the raised stone walkway and scanned the crowd with her senses, but there were too many people packed into the square. She couldn’t pick out vampire or phantom among the blur of scents and powers.

Mackenzie huffed and strode down the alley ahead of her, one that ran between the building where the elf still stood and the first building on the side of the square to her right. She exited it on a broader cobbled street and checked in both directions, and then did a quick lap of the demon district.

The thoroughfare was just as busy as the square, filled with demons grouped together in front of the one and two-storey grey stone buildings. Hordes of them had gathered around the tavern to the north of the district, a pale cream stone affair that was a contrast to all the dark grey. It was more elegant too, resembling something from the Victorian era.

“Hey,” she breathed as a big demon noticed her and his dusky horns curled a little, beginning to resemble those of a ram, and his crimson eyes brightened. She skimmed her hands down her burgundy corset to her hips, making sure she had the whole of his attention, and canted her head as she sidled up to him. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen a vampire and a phantom coming this way?”

He shook his head, and then growled and bared fangs when two other demons looked at her. She pegged one as from the Fifth Realm, and one as from the Second. Demons didn’t exactly like to share, but she needed information, and if a fight broke out, she would make a sharp exit.

“How about you, big guy?” She ran an assessing gaze over the demon from the Second Realm, taking a moment to appreciate all that muscle jammed into only a pair of tight black leathers, and how his black horns grew as he gave her a leisurely once-over in return. “You seen a vampire and a phantom?”

“Maybe,” he grunted and continued in stilted English, revealing he didn’t get out of Hell much, “What… information… worth?”

“More than you can afford, gorgeous.” She offered a sultry smile because that was all he was getting from her.

He hadn’t seen anything. None of them had. She debated questioning the others and then decided against it. She wasn’t going to find her mark again tonight. By now, he was either holed up in the vampire district to the north of the enormous cavern, or he had used one of the portal pathways and gone back to his stronghold in Hell.

Damn it.

She ogled the demon one last time, shutting out a stray thought that left her reeling—she liked her men a little leaner and a lot meaner.

The elf popped into her head.

She was about to banish him, but paused and frowned as she shrugged. Her mark was gone, but she could still come away from tonight with some valuable intel if she tailed the assassin. It might go some way towards making her feel better.

Mackenzie returned to the square and looked up to her right, at the rooftop. He was gone. She muttered another curse, one that felt like the millionth she had unleashed since noticing the elf.

That sizzle-spark rolled along her spine again and she jerked her head down.

Her gaze collided with pure amethyst across a sea of people, violet that held her fast as a thousand tingles tripped through her.

The elf frowned at her, his sensual lips turning downwards as a disapproving look settled on his handsome face. The black slashes of his eyebrows met hard and he pivoted, breaking the spell he had placed her under. She shook off the lingering effect and glared at his back as he eased through the crowd, heading towards the clock tower at the other end of the square.

Mackenzie gave him a few seconds to build a lead and then followed, keeping her senses trained on him so he couldn’t escape her.

Which of the elves was he? There was only one guild in Hell that employed his kind, and when she had been researching assassin organisations with the intent of forming one of her own, before she had joined a guild instead, two names had come up.

Fuery and Hartt.

Rumour didn’t need to paint an interesting picture of them. Fact had already done it. The two elves were practically famous and as far as she could tell, one was as bad as the other.

As dangerous and deadly as her mark.

Their mark.

Her client had obviously hired him too and she couldn’t really blame him for putting the contract out for tender at several guilds. Not when there was a ridiculously high chance the vampire would kill whoever was sent to take him down.

The elf hit the broad street that cut through the witches’ district. She locked up tight when he suddenly stopped and began to turn his head. She ducked behind a group of shifters, sure he was looking for her. Her heart shot into her throat and pounded there, adrenaline a sweet kick in her veins as she edged forwards and risked peering around the female shifter who was looking down at her as if she were insane.

He was gone. Damn him.

Mackenzie stood and tiptoed, peered over the heads of the crowd and tried to find him. The tightness in her chest evaporated as she spotted him heading along the side of the square and she hurried to catch up with him as he ducked into an alley.

Following an elf with a reputation as dark as the one attributed to the two assassins in his guild into an alley was probably suicide. That thought flickered through her mind, but she paid it no heed. She mounted the steps up onto the stone walkway and pressed her back to the building beside the alley.

Being prepared was worth the risk. She had never seen an assassin from his guild in the flesh, and she wanted to know what she was up against because she doubted her client was going to change his mind about having more than one assassin guild on this job for him.

The elf was her competition, and he was going down.

She needed to be the one to take out the mark. Claiming a trophy of this magnitude would establish her guild as one of the most prestigious in Hell. It would finally get her small band of assassins recognised and would lead to getting bigger and better contracts.

Her guild needed this.

Ever since she had taken over leadership of it a few decades ago, they had struggled to keep their heads above water, let alone establish themselves in the fiercely competitive world of contract killing. It was a miracle this client had approached them and offered this opportunity, and she wouldn’t mess up this chance they had been given.

She had to secure the kill for her guild.

She leaned left and peered into the alley, glared at the elf’s back as he strolled away from her.

Plus, she had a score to settle.

She had lost track of the number of clients who had dumped her guild halfway through a contract because an opening had come up at the one he worked for. Her scowl deepened, mostly because those electric shivers were back as she studied him, sending heat rolling through her.

Damn him.

But there was something arresting about him.

The fluid way he moved, a startling combination of grace and raw sexuality that shouldn’t be possible considering he wore a drab black knee-length tunic over his tight trousers, was drawing more than just her gaze to him. Every female in the alley looked him over after he had passed them and some had the courage to eye him up as he approached.

One even offered herself up to him.

He politely turned her down with a smile and a wave of his hand.

The subtle shift of his body caused the fine material of the tunic to pull taut over his biceps and across his broad shoulders, revealing toned muscles. Apparently, elves had incredible armour that was imbued with magic or something. The black scales resided in twin bracelets and could cover their owner in a handful of seconds if they issued a mental command. Those scales could transform into talons too, and only metal of the same type could cut through it.

She had never seen it in the flesh, but heat sizzled through her as she pictured what he would look like in only skin-tight black armour that revealed everything.

And she meant everything.

Several of the accounts she had read about elf armour, and some of the ones she had been told by women who had witnessed it, had been very clear about that. Every muscle on their body showed, and not just that, but you could tell the size of the package on offer too.

That sizzle became a spark that ignited her blood, had her thoughts going hazy for a moment before she snapped herself back to the world and shut it down.

She blamed the elf for her out-of-control libido and imagination, put it down to his good looks and incredible physique, and the fact it had been far too long since she had taken the time to scratch her itches.

She wouldn’t let herself get distracted by him.

It would be a death sentence.

He was the enemy and he had clocked her in the square, knew they were after the same mark. He was probably aware of her right now and was leading her to her doom. Well, it would be his doom that awaited him at the end of this dance.

Mackenzie tailed him, studying everything he did, learning all she could about him, right down to which foot he favoured as he pivoted and turned down another alley. The more she knew about him, the more likely it was she would survive a fight against him.

And they would come to blows.

She felt that in her gut.

She peeked into the alley. He was still a good fifty feet ahead of her. She slipped into the narrower space, hating the way the two dark stone buildings seemed to close in on her to steal all the light. The strange burn he had ignited in her blood turned to ice and she breathed through it as her chest constricted. She was fine. She focused on the electric lamp mounted on the wall at the end of the alley, using the soft light it emitted to banish the darkness.

The memories.

As the momentary panic passed and her senses came back online, she swore under her breath.

The elf was gone.

“Damn it, Mackenzie,” she muttered and frowned as she hurried forwards. “Losing track of your targets now?”

It wasn’t like her. She prided herself on her skills, on her dedication to her work and how professional she was compared with a lot of other assassins. She had never lost track of a mark and now she had done it twice in one night.

She slowed her pace, catching herself. Rushing headlong after the elf was a foolish move. Whether the male was Hartt or Fuery, he was a merciless killer. Darkness made flesh.

And sharp as a blade too.

The tales of them were legendary. More than one account glorified how quickly they could think on their feet and how intelligent they were. She supposed skills like that came with the territory when you were thousands of years old.

She took a moment to breathe, to focus her mind again. She was quick and clever too.

He wasn’t going to get the jump on her.

She brought her guard up again as she slipped a dagger free of the sheathe at her waist and stretched her senses around her as she exited the alley onto the main street that cut through the heart of the demon district. She palmed the grip of the blade, her pulse picking up as she scoured the area.

Nothing.

Had he teleported back to Hell?

She squeaked as a hand suddenly appeared around her throat and hauled her back against a rock-hard body, and shivered as his deep baritone teased her ear.

“Looking for me?”

 

Purchase Links

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.ca | Amazon.com.au
iBooks USA | iBooks UK | iBooks Canada | iBooks Australia | iBooks New Zealand
Barnes and Noble | Kobo Books | Google Play

 

Books in the Series

Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (FREE AT SELECTED RETAILERS!)

 

About Felicity

Felicity Heaton

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling London Vampires series. Seven sexy and sinful Greek god brothers can be your new addiction in the Guardians of Hades series. Or how about four hot alpha shifter brothers in her Cougar Creek Mates series? Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the Eternal Mates series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

WEBSITE | BLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS | INSTAGRAM


Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Calistos by Felicity Heaton Tour & Giveaway


New York Times best-selling paranormal romance author Felicity Heaton is here today for the book tour of her new paranormal romance release, CALISTOS, the latest novel in her epic Guardians of Hades series.

If you love dark, alpha Greek gods and strong heroines who bring them to their knees, together with epic action, sizzling passion and high stakes drama, then this series is definitely for you. Plus, each book has a happily forever after and there are no cliff-hangers, because there’s nothing worse than a cliff-hanger!

 

About the Book

by Felicity Heaton
Prince of the Underworld and Lord of Air, Calistos was banished from his home by his father, Hades, two centuries ago and given a new duty and purpose—to keep our world and his from colliding in a calamity foreseen by the Moirai. Together with his six brothers, he fights to defend the gates to the Underworld from daemons bent on breaching them and gaining entrance to that forbidden land, striving to protect his home from their dark influence.

Tormented by the death of his twin sister, Calistos wants nothing more than to find a way to save her soul, but the pain of continuing without her, the constant feeling that he got her killed, is slowly pulling him down into the darkness and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he succumbs to the call of the abyss.

Until a battle sets him on a collision course with a kind-hearted and beautiful mortal, one who rouses softer emotions he had sworn he would never risk feeling again, threatening to peel away his mask of playfulness and shatter the barriers around his heart.

Marinda is a woman on a mission—to become a great cellist and repay her father for his faith in her. But her regimented and studious life is thrown into chaos when a handsome man is carted into the ER where she works and takes her hostage, pulling her into a dark and dangerous world… one where she discovers there’s more to her than meets the eye and her entire life has been a lie.

When the enemy makes a play for Marinda and the gates, will Calistos find the strength to let someone into his heart again and look to the future, or will the pain of his past lead him to unleash hell on this world?

 

Purchase Links

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.ca | Amazon.com.au
Apple USA | Apple UK | Apple Canada | Apple Australia | Apple New Zealand
Barnes and Noble | Kobo Books | Google Play

 

Enter the grand tour-wide giveaway to win one of a $75, $50 or $25 Amazon Gift Card at the Calistos book page. This giveaway is international and open to everyone, and ends at midnight on August 16th. Enter now: http://www.felicityheaton.com/guardians-of-hades-calistos-paranormal-romance-book.php

 

Excerpt

“Clear the way!”

Marinda plastered her back against the cream wall of the busy hospital corridor as two paramedics rushed towards her, pushing a gurney. From the opposite direction, a doctor hurried to them, meeting them just before her.

“What do we have?” The woman looked the patient over and Marinda didn’t miss the flicker of horror in her dark eyes.

Marinda could understand her shock. The unconscious man on the gurney was covered in a black oily substance, had blood pooling beneath him on the pale sheets and staining his long blond hair, and had multiple lacerations across his bare chest.

Together with a bone sticking out of his left arm.

“Adult male. Early thirties. Someone found him on the Pont Sant-Michel. Unconscious.” The male paramedic glanced at the doctor before he went back to attending to the man. “He hasn’t regained consciousness.”

Coupled with the grave look he exchanged with the doctor and the other paramedic, Marinda knew what that meant.

He was bound for the morgue.

They rushed past her and her gaze tracked them, focused on him. How had he even managed to survive such extensive injuries? She had seen people in better conditions lose their lives, and didn’t hold out much hope for him. She hated nights like this, when she saw such horrible things, when she felt hopeless despite how badly she wanted to be able to help these people.

She drifted back along the corridor in the direction she had come, not noticing any of the people or the things happening around her as her feet carried her towards the ER.

Towards the man.

Was it morbid curiosity or something else that had this need awakening inside her? A desire to remain at his side. To watch over him.

She paused at the door of the room they had moved him into and watched as nurses joined the paramedics and another doctor, this one a man, rushed into the room from the doors to the theatre. She only caught snippets of their conversation as she stared at the blond man, her eyes transfixed on his face.

“We have any hope here?” a man muttered. One of the nurses.

“Just get him hooked up,” a woman hissed back at him as she worked to clear some of the black from the patient’s chest. “What is this stuff? Motor oil?”

“It stinks, whatever it is.” Another man moved around the blond on the gurney, blocking Marinda’s view for a moment, and she inched another step closer, compelled to remain within sight of the man.

“Vitals coming in now.” The first male nurse shifted to his right. “What the hell?”

Marinda glanced at the machine as he punched the buttons.

“That can’t be right.” He looked at his colleagues.

Marinda agreed with him. She had worked as a receptionist long enough to know what normal vitals looked like, and this man’s were as normal as they got. The machine had to be wrong. There was no way a man in his condition could have stable, near-perfect blood pressure. He hardly had any blood left in him judging by the crimson now dripping from the gurney to splatter on the tiled floor.

Weird.

She inched another step closer, bordering on entering the room now as that compulsion grew stronger. Her gaze dropped to his face again, and a feeling struck her.

He felt like home.

The strangeness of that thought had her frowning at him. She wasn’t normally one for such fanciful thoughts, and definitely not about men. Did she know him? It was possible he had lived in the small town where she had grown up, where she had spent her entire life before she had moved away to study at the Conservatoire de Paris.

The entire room erupted into pandemonium, shattering her thoughts and hurling her back into the world.

The blond jacked up off the gurney, growled like an animal as people rushed to restrain him, and she gasped as he kicked one of them. His heavy black boots caught one of the men in the chest and sent him flying across the room.

“Get him under control!” The doctor who had been the first to attend to him barrelled across the room with two large male nurses.

The woman seized the man’s legs, a vain attempt to contain him as he bucked and thrashed. The two nurses grabbed his shoulders and tried to pin him, and the second doctor joined the first, helping her keep the man’s legs under control.

The male paramedic fumbled with some straps, almost had them around the man’s legs when someone injected the blond with something.

His already strange vitals shot off the charts and he exploded from the bed, sending everyone staggering backwards, slamming into machinery and the walls. Marinda gasped and eased back a step as the man swung violently in all directions, the needle dangling from his arm swaying as he twisted and turned, taking in his surroundings.

His vivid blue eyes were wild, so bright they entranced her and she froze in the face of him.

He looked savage as he towered in the centre of the room, his bare chest heaving, the air around him swirling in a way that tousled the dirty strands of his long golden hair.

Like a man out of one of the fairy tales her father had told her as a child, not one made of flesh and blood.

Three of the male nurses attempted to capture him. He shoved the first to reach him, planting a hand against his chest, and the man flew across the room to hit the wall near the doors to the operating theatre. The other two didn’t fare any better. He knocked one out with barely a tap on the head, and swept his broken left arm out to catch the second one across his chest, sending him crashing into the machines.

He moved a step backwards, a tear in his black combat trousers opening to reveal a deep laceration that cut into his thigh muscle. He growled and flashed his teeth as he knocked against a trolley of equipment and turned on it, raising his right hand at the same time. The trolley flipped, scattering the contents across the tiles, and careened into the wall, embedding itself in the pale cream plaster.

No man had that kind of strength.

Was he on drugs? It seemed like a very real possibility as she stared at him, at the wounds that littered him and how crazed he was. He had clearly faced off against the wrong people and had lost.

He shifted his right foot forwards, dragging it through the blood, and then his left, slowly moving towards her.

The sensor leads attached to his body pulled taut and he snarled something in a language she didn’t know.

Everyone in the room suddenly dropped to their knees and clutched their ears.

Thunder pealed outside and the ground shook, threatening to send her to her knees too.

He tore the leads from his chest, leaving circular red marks where they had been, and ripped the needle from his arm. Blood tracked down it, dark against his dirty oil-slicked skin.

Marinda swallowed hard as he lifted his head and their gazes collided.

His eyes were even brighter now, as stormy as the lightning that ravaged the sky and shook the ground with another ear-splitting bang.

They softened as he gazed at her, as he slowly lifted his right arm and stretched a hand out towards her. He pushed his right foot forwards again, his knee buckled and he collapsed, catching his broken arm on the end of the gurney. A pain-filled bellow ripped from his lips and he spoke again, muttered things in that strange language that had the nurses and doctors curling over, holding themselves and crying out in pain too.

The man braced his right hand against the floor, his jaw tensed and he tried to push himself up. He sagged, breathing hard, and instinct had her moving towards him even as the sensible part of her screamed at her to run away. This man was dangerous. She could only watch herself as she closed the gap between them, as she crouched and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He was burning up.

He needed help.

Her help.

“Step away from him.” A flinty, hard male voice came from behind her and she glanced over her shoulder at the owner of it. A police officer. Two of them occupied the doorway, both of them looking at the man as he struggled to push himself up off the tiles. Someone must have raised the alarm. The man drew a gun and aimed it at the blond. “Stay down.”

The world whirled around her and she froze as she found herself facing the two police officers. The man behind her palmed something in his right hand and she tried to see it out of the corner of her eye. Her pulse spiked, fear flooding her veins for the first time as she made out what it was.

A scalpel.

He banded his left arm around her and her spine met his front as he brought the makeshift blade up to her throat. Instinct said to break free. This time, Marinda ignored it. She glanced at the carnage he had wrought, at the nurses who were slowly recovering now he had stopped speaking, several of whom were bleeding badly. She didn’t want to end up like them, and she had the feeling she would if she fought him.

He loosed another inhuman snarl and edged her forwards. He was heavy against her as he held her to him, his weight pressing down on her back, forcing her to support him. She struggled to move towards the door, her legs like jelly beneath her as she eyed the police officers, praying they would get out of his way. Fear crushed her lungs. She felt sure she wouldn’t survive the fight that would break out if they didn’t move.

As she neared them, she threw them both a pleading look. It hit its mark with the younger of the two officers and he moved back a step. The second joined him, easing backwards as the man moved her forwards, using her as a shield.

His grip on her tightened as they hit the corridor, the strength of it surprising her. With the amount of blood he had lost, and was continuing to lose, he should have been weakening, not growing stronger, but she swore he was doing just that. His steps grew surer too, the weight of him against her back lessening with each minute that trickled past as he slowly eased her backwards, keeping her facing the police officers.

He was surprisingly gentle with her as he guided her towards the exit and then out into the cool autumnal night air. He lowered the scalpel from her throat and turned her to face him, a flare of regret in his eyes as they dropped to the point where he had held the blade close to her vein. When his eyes lifted to hers again, she expected him to ask her where her car was.

Instead, he spoke in that unusual language of his and thunder rumbled overhead.

“I don’t understand,” she said in French, unsure he would know what she was saying.

When he clutched her shoulders through her white shirt and shook her, frustration crossing his features, she decided to try English instead.

“I don’t understand. What language is that anyway? Russian? Greek?” It was nothing she had ever encountered on her limited travels. It sounded similar to what her friend Cassandra spoke, although it might have something to do with how frustrated he sounded. Cass rarely spoke Russian outside of the times she was angry about something.

He snarled something else and blue light sparked across her vision, almost blinding her. She dropped her gaze to his right arm and the blue glow emanating from the tattoo of script that ran along the inside of his forearm. Maybe she had fallen asleep during her break and was dreaming all of this, because none of it seemed real.

That feeling compounded when he grabbed her and the light engulfed them.

She shrieked as she tried to break free of him, fighting his hold, and stumbled backwards as he released her. She hit the tarmac.

Or at least she should have hit tarmac.

She looked down at the smooth black ground beneath her that resembled tiles.

And then up at the man as he staggered away from her, muttering things under his breath, heading for an enormous four-poster bed draped with sky-blue linen. He collapsed onto it and rolled onto his back, breathing hard.

Marinda breathed hard with him, the pace of them quickening as she took in her new surroundings, unable to believe her eyes. The pitch-dark walls of the huge room seemed to close in on her as she struggled for air.

She shrieked again when a boom came from behind her and swiftly twisted onto her knees to face that direction.

A beautiful woman with scarlet hair that looked like blood against her pale skin and the delicate layers of her black dress drew to a sudden halt in the doorway, her emerald eyes falling to land on Marinda.

They darted to the man.

Marinda had the ridiculous urge to deny that she had been doing anything to him, that she hadn’t been with him in any fashion—not to harm him or seek pleasure with him.

“What have you done?” the woman whispered, her voice like a summer breeze as she swept towards Marinda.

Marinda lined the words up on her tongue, ready to deny that she had done anything, but then the woman glided straight past her, heading for the man, and she had the feeling the redhead had been speaking to him.

“Oh, you will be in trouble now,” the woman murmured as she gazed down at him, her green eyes overflowing with worry. “But it seems you were already in trouble.”

Marinda tensed when the woman looked back at her.

“What happened to him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He was brought into the ER, found unconscious at the Pont Sant-Michel.”

A crinkle formed between the woman’s fine eyebrows. “ER?”

“Emergency room… at the hospital.” She tried to keep her focus on the woman, but her eyes strayed to the man as he laboured for breath, unconscious again. “I work there.”

She lifted the lanyard draped around her neck, pulling it away from her white shirt to show the woman her pass.

The woman shook her head and looked the man over again. When her gaze reached his left arm, she frowned, stooped and gently lifted it. She placed her delicate hand over the bone, closed her eyes and pressed down.

The man roared and bucked up. He violently struggled, wrestling against the woman’s hold, and Marinda waited for him to send the woman flying. Only he didn’t. She weathered his frantic thrashing, kept hold of his arm and remained perfectly still, as if he wasn’t jolting around like a wild animal.

This time, when his lips parted, Marinda understood him.

“Hurts. Fucking hurts,” he snarled and sagged against the blue bedclothes, his fight leaving him again.

“I know.” The woman stroked her hand over his arm and Marinda’s eyes widened.

The bone was no longer poking out of his skin, and the cut left behind wasn’t even bleeding.

She had to be dreaming.

Or having a nightmare.

“He’s badly hurt. He needs medical attention.” Marinda tried to push onto her feet but her legs refused to bear her weight and she crashed back onto her knees.

“You are a doctor? A nurse? A practitioner of medicine?” The woman turned hopeful green eyes on her.

They were about to be filled with disappointment instead.

“I’m a cellist.” She braced her hands against her bare knees beyond the hem of her grey pencil skirt and drew down a slow breath to steady her heart. Panicking wasn’t going to get her anywhere. If she wasn’t dreaming, then she had been magically whisked to another place and was at the mercy of her hosts.

“A cellist?” The woman frowned.

“I play the cello.” She didn’t mean for it to come out apologetic, but it did. Of all the people to grab, he had unfortunately grabbed the one person in the room who was of little use to him. “I just work at the hospital to help pay for my education. I man the reception desk in the ER.”

The scarlet-haired beauty sighed. “You do not know anything about doctoring?”

She started to shake her head and then shrugged. “I did basic training a couple of years ago. Just things like recovery position, bandaging, treating minor wounds.”

“So you can help him.”

This time she did shake her head. “No. Those are not minor wounds. He’s bleeding badly, has broken bones, and—”

“Much of it is not his blood,” the woman said in a deadpan voice that had Marinda lapsing into stunned silence.

If it wasn’t his blood, whose blood was it?

The woman stared deep into her eyes. “I am asking you to help me to help my son.”

Her son? Marinda looked at him where he rested on the bed, finally calm again. He didn’t look a day older than this woman.

“He will heal faster if we both aid him.” The woman gently brushed tangled strands of his dirty hair from his forehead and a sigh slipped from his lips, a contented sound that was so at odds with his terrible condition.

He had to be in a lot of pain. So much that she couldn’t see how he could find a simple touch comforting. Perhaps he was delusional. She had seen patients in so much pain that they had been out of their minds.

“He needs treatment. Surgery. He needs doctors at the very least. Painkillers.” Marinda looked at him, taking stock of the numerous wounds covering his arms and chest, and the gashes in his combats that revealed more cuts.

Strangely, all of the wounds looked shallower now.

As if they were healing rapidly.

“No human medicine.” The woman’s voice gained a hard, cold edge that didn’t suit her.

Those three words ricocheted around Marinda’s head, stirring more questions. No human medicine?

The floor trembled beneath her and she leaned forwards and pressed her palms against it, waiting for the ominous peal of thunder that would follow it just as it had when they had been in the hospital.

It remained eerily quiet.

“He should not have brought you here.” The woman turned away from Marinda and gazed down at the man on the bed. “He will be in trouble with Hades when he comes around. Reckless child.”

Marinda’s eyes widened. “Hades. Like… Clash of the Titans?”

Now she knew she was dreaming.

The woman scowled at her. “Now is not the time for ridiculous questions. My husband is not a Titan, nor is he an Olympian.”

This woman had to be insane. She was talking about being married to the god of the Underworld as if it was perfectly normal and utterly sane.

She touched the man’s right arm and the writing tattooed on it glowed blue. A sigh slipped from her rosy lips.

“Hades will not be pleased,” she whispered, as gentle as the first kiss of morning light, and lifted her hand and stroked his cheek in a way only a mother could. Her touch was light, spoke of love that Marinda could feel across the expanse of air between them—a touch meant to take away all the pain and make everything better.

A touch Marinda had never known.

Disquiet stirred inside her as she watched the interaction, longing to know what that touch felt like mingling with jealousy that this man knew it, that the woman standing over him clearly loved him with all of her heart.

Her thoughts slipped to her father, and an ache bloomed inside her, a need that grew rapidly to fill her. She missed him. She should have stayed with him until the last day of summer break as she normally did, soaking up every moment with him. If she had, she wouldn’t have been in this mess.

Presuming it wasn’t all in her head.

She pinched herself, but didn’t wake.

In fact, it only seemed to make things worse. The woman waved her hand over the bloodstained blue sheets near the man’s legs. Bandages, sutures and other things she couldn’t make out from this distance appeared there. Magic. Marinda pinched herself again.

“Come, child.” The woman held her hand out to Marinda as she glided towards her, her bare feet silent on the cold black stone floor. In her wake, flowers bloomed, entwined with twisted brambles.

Marinda went to pinch herself a third time but the woman took hold of her hand and the warmth of her touch sank straight into Marinda’s bones, reached right down into her soul to soothe some of the fear from it.

“Together we can do this.” She raised her hand and Marinda marvelled as strength flowed through her limbs, as her legs grew steady enough for her to stand.

There was magic in this woman’s touch.

Magic and an endless well of love.

She guided Marinda to the man, and released her to place two rolls of bandages into her hands. “Tend to his wounds while I mend his arm. Do not be afraid of him. He will not hurt you.”

Marinda knew that. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. He had been gentle with her in the hospital, had regretted what he had done afterwards, and the weird tongue he had spoken hadn’t pained her as it had everyone else.

She moved to the foot of the bed, crawled onto it and up to his other side, opposite his mother. A bowl of water appeared on the bed beside her, together with a stack of dark towels, and she looked at the woman.

“Help me save my son.”

Marinda nodded, because maybe if she helped him, she could go home and this crazy dream would end.

She soaked a cloth, squeezed it out and went to wipe some of the blood and grime from the man.

Home.

She paused and looked at him, that feeling stirring inside her again, and as ridiculous as it seemed, she found it impossible to deny.

He felt like home.

She looked around at the room as that pull towards him filled her again, drawing her closer to him, deeply aware that the woman hadn’t lied and she was in a hellish realm of dark gods and the dead.

And the craziest thought yet pinged into her mind.

It felt like home.

And she didn’t want to leave.

 

Purchase Links

Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.ca | Amazon.com.au
Apple USA | Apple UK | Apple Canada | Apple Australia | Apple New Zealand
Barnes and Noble | Kobo Books | Google Play

 

Books in the Series

 

About Felicity

Felicity Heaton

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling London Vampires series. Seven sexy and sinful Greek god brothers can be your new addiction in the Guardians of Hades series. Or how about four hot alpha shifter brothers in her Cougar Creek Mates series? Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the Eternal Mates series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

WEBSITE | BLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS | INSTAGRAM

 

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Avenged by an Angel by Felicity Heaton Tour & Giveaway

New York Times best-selling paranormal romance author Felicity Heaton is here today for the book tour of her new paranormal romance release, Avenged by an Angel, the latest release in her popular Eternal Mates world.
There are now sixteen books in this series, but don’t worry, you can dive right on in with Avenged by an Angel, or start at the very beginning with Kissed by a Dark Prince, which is FREE at all retailers right now. Binge-read to your heart’s content!
If you love big worlds packed with detail and every paranormal species imaginable, together with hot alpha heroes and strong heroines bringing them to their knees, then this series is definitely for you. Plus, each book has a happily forever after and there are no cliff-hangers, because there’s nothing worse than a cliff-hanger!

About the Book


by Felicity Heaton
Duty should mean everything to the Fourth Commander of the Echelon angels. It did before he met her. Now, the only demon he wants to slay is the one that haunts the enchanting mortal huntress, and the temptation to hunt him in Hell, a realm that might kill him, is becoming impossible to resist.

Held captive by a dragon shifter in Hell, Emelia survived a torment that changed her in ways she hates. She wants her strength back. Her life back. To do that, she needs closure. To get that, she might have to trust not only a man again, but an immortal.
But when the price of vengeance is the soul of the angel bringing her back to life, will Emelia be willing to pay it?

Purchase Links

Enter the grand tour-wide giveaway to win one of a $75, $50 or $25 Amazon Gift Card at the Avenged by an Angel book page. This giveaway is international and open to everyone, and ends at midnight on September 2nd. Enter now: http://www.felicityheaton.com/avenged-by-an-angel-paranormal-romance-book.php


Excerpt
The alarms were still blaring ten minutes later as Emelia ran beside a group of black-clad hunters down a corridor on the second level of the building. The flashing red lights hurt her tired eyes, and her muscles protested, threatening to cramp as she pushed herself to keep moving.
“Might be a breach in the cell block,” a hunter said to his companion as they broke off, turning down a hallway to her left.
She doubted that. Any breach in the cell block would have been dealt with by now by one of the teams that had been dispatched there.
It was him.
She knew it.
She would never forget the way electricity had charged the air when he had appeared in the building the first time they had met. The strange sensation had faded now, but she hadn’t imagined it.
It was the angel.
He had come back.
She just wasn’t sure where he was.
She had checked the place where they had met, a small observation room next to one of the grim white medical cells where the scientists and doctors at Archangel often studied the non-humans the hunters captured and brought in for them. The angel hadn’t been there.
Where would he go?
She ground to a halt as she realized something.
She wanted to find him. She wanted to see him again.
Her pulse pounded for a different reason as that hit her, and she moved to the cream wall and pressed her palm to it for support as she stared at the wooden floor. Awareness rushed through her, the past few weeks rolling up on her and leaving her stunned. She had been drawing further and further away from everyone else, even her friends.
But not from him.
What was it about the angel that had her moving towards him, seeking him?
He was a stranger to her, and a dangerous man. Very dangerous. She had witnessed that for herself.
So why was she experiencing a rush of adrenaline, a quiet thrill at the thought he had returned?
Why was she happy that he was here?
Because he was an angel, so she felt he could help her by using his power to free her from the pain of her memories by healing her battered mind somehow?
Or because she had seen the darkness in him, the savage side that had startled her at the time because he was an angel, and had felt the power he commanded, strength that matched, if not surpassed, what Zephyr possessed?
Her fingers tensed against the cream wall.
Did she want the angel to heal her… or destroy the dragon?
She lifted her other hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart thundered against her palm as she dug her fingertips in, clawing her black T-shirt into her fist.
She wasn’t sure.
A prickling sensation ran up her arms. She dropped her gaze to her left forearm, frowning as the hairs stood on end. A moment later, the familiar charge began to build, barely noticeable at first, but as she focused on it, she could feel it growing.
Was he planning to leave?
Panic propelled her feet into action, and she sprinted down the corridor only to stop at the next cross junction. She slowly turned back the way she had come. The charge was weaker here, away from the spot she had just occupied. Was she moving away from him?
She ran back the way she had come and focused as best she could on the strange feeling. Her breaths came faster as it built inside her, and she was sure she was moving closer to him now. She followed it up through the building, letting her instincts and that electrical charge guide her.
She ground to a halt in front of the fire exit that would take her to the roof.
The charge was strongest here, a rush of tingles constantly running up and down her spine, tripping over her skin beneath her black combat gear. She took a moment, trying to settle her heart and level out her breathing. Her hands shook as she smoothed them over her damp hair, using the action of drawing the dark ribbons of it into a rough knot at the back of her head to calm herself.
Emelia blew out her breath, gripped the handle, and pushed. The heavy door creaked open, and she stepped out onto the flat roof. The cool night air chilled her, brushing across her damp nape and raising the hairs on her bare arms as surely as the angel had.
Was he here?
She shuffled out onto the roof, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that rose from below her, allowing her to see through it. Objects gradually appeared, gaining form and depth as she moved deeper into the darkness, leaving the safety of the door behind. Nerves threatened to send her running back that way, a whispered taunt in her mind reminding her that she hadn’t left the building in more than a week.
That she was in danger out here in the open.
She instinctively glanced up and then shook her head. The dragon wasn’t here, and he couldn’t shift in her world. There was nothing to fear from that inky sky.
She moved around one of the air-conditioning outlets and paused.
Her breath hitched.
Heart lodged in her throat.
She clenched her fists to stop them from trembling and lingered in the shadows, away from the sphere of slender light that emanated from the pitched glass windows that formed a skylight for fifteen feet down the middle of the roof.
Slender light that washed over the man lazing on the gritty dark ground before her, his hands tucked behind his head, supporting it as he stared at the sky.
Looking nothing like she had expected.
The thick onyx hair and silver eyes had remained the same, the chiselled contours of his face and strong line of his jaw exactly as she had remembered them, but everything else was wrong.
He looked more human than angel.
No huge white wings.
No pristine white tunic suited to one of his breed.
A dark turtleneck and black slacks hugged his powerful physique, emphasising muscles that roused a wariness in her and had her wanting to take a step back from him. She knew he was strong, he didn’t need to drive the point home by showing off honed muscles that screamed he could easily overpower her.
Emelia fought the wave of panic that rose inside her.
If he wanted to hurt her, he probably would have done it by now. He was aware of her. She wasn’t an idiot. He was pretending to be oblivious to her standing in the shadows, looking at him, on the verge of a panic attack. To give her time to calm herself and adjust to his presence?
It certainly seemed like an angelic thing to do so she rolled with it as his reason for not even glancing at her.
She swallowed to wet her dry mouth and throat and risked a step towards him. “What are you doing?”
The black slashes of his eyebrows rose but he still didn’t look at her. “Trying to relax.”
Funny that. She had been trying to relax too, before the alarms had sounded. Now she was trying to relax all over again, repeatedly telling herself that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
She braved another step closer so she could see him more clearly in what little light shone on him. He did seem tense.
Lines bracketed the corners of his full mouth as he moved his right arm, lowering it to his stomach, and she didn’t miss the way he shifted that hand to his left side.
“Any reason you’ve chosen to relax on the roof of Archangel?” She canted her head to her right, peering at his face.
He didn’t answer.
She glanced over her shoulder towards the fire exit as the alarms continued to ring. It was only a matter of time before one or more of the hunters scouring the building below her for the intruder ended up checking the roof. What would he do then?
What would she do?
“The alarms are ringing because of you,” she murmured, her eyes still on the door.
It beckoned her, luring her with a promise of safety. She was safe in there, shut away from the world.
“My apologies.” His deep baritone rolled over her, chasing that desire away, together with her panic. It slowly faded as she shifted her focus to him, coming to face him. The alarms ceased, but he still didn’t look at her as he said, “Is that better?”
He had silenced them the last time they had met too. What other powers did he possess?
She nodded, relieved the world had fallen silent again. Hopefully the hunters would believe the intruder was gone or was never there to begin with, and would go back to their duties. It might buy her time to find out why there was an angel lazing on the roof, his eyes on the night sky.
Those eyes shifted like mercury in the weak moonlight, eerily bright despite the darkness.
“Are you here about Sable again?” She inched closer, narrowing the distance between them down to under ten feet.
He finally looked at her.
It was nothing more than a brief glance, a bare brush of those dazzling silver eyes over her from head to toe before they fixed back on the stars. Nerves instantly rushed through her, thoughts filling her mind that had butterflies whirling in her stomach like a damned hurricane.
Emelia edged another step closer as her memories pushed harder.
And hell, that was just as bizarre as finding him dressed like a regular guy on her rooftop.
Normally when the crush of memories happened, she wanted to get away from everyone.
Not get closer to someone.
She reminded herself that she couldn’t trust anyone now. Whatever trust she’d once had, it lay broken now, fragmented like her strength.
Fractured like her soul.
“I will not hurt you,” he murmured softly without looking at her, his voice a balm to her ragged nerves, soothing the torn edges of them. “I did not come to upset you.”
Had he sensed her mounting panic?
Immortals had acute senses, but she hadn’t expected his to be that sharp. The panic hadn’t even gripped her yet, had only been on the verge of seizing her, but he had felt it, and he had sought to reassure her.
She breathed a little easier, managed another step closer to him, and was rewarded for her courage by the memories that had been surfacing fading away instead. She tried to relax, but it was difficult. No matter how many times she told herself that he was an angel, that he wouldn’t hurt her, the tension in her body remained.
A different memory surfaced as she looked down at him, a flash of him in that observation room, his face a mask of darkness and eyes as hard as diamonds as he had growled that he would kill the dragon for her.
“I like the view of the stars from here.” His deep voice wrapped around her again, pulling her back to the present, and she had the feeling he had known she was slipping away again and had wanted to bring her back to him.
She tipped her head back and charted the faint pinpricks that struggled to pierce the lights of the city. Calm washed over her as she gazed at them, carrying away her fears and leaving her feeling lighter, freer than she had in a long time.
“The city lights drown them out, but… I like to look at the stars too now.” She lost herself in them and everything fell away, all the weight lifting from her with it.
“Why?”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them as she let the words slip out rather than holding them back. “They help me remember I’m not in Hell anymore.”
The briefest trace of cold washed over her exposed skin and the stars seemed to dim for a heartbeat before they returned.
“The stars are always more beautiful from your world.” His voice was tight now, held an edge that was sharp as a blade and at odds to his words.
Was he trying to control his mood? The world had darkened as it had before when his temper had snapped, but it had only lasted a split second this time. Because he didn’t want to scare her?
He sounded like she did at times when she was close to snapping, trying to be polite to stop herself from lashing out at those who were trying to smother her.
“The lights drown the stars out.” She squeezed the words past her tight throat and told herself to breathe, because she was safe here.
“I can see them,” he murmured. “I see things a little differently to you.”
She could imagine.
She tried to find her favourite constellations, wishing she could see the stars as clearly as he could. She had seen pictures of the Milky Way viewed in complete darkness, and she would love to see it with her own eyes. She wanted to immerse herself in nature, in everything that Hell lacked. Stars. Trees. The sun. She had basked in it more than once in the doorway behind her, not quite brave enough to laze on the roof as he was and bathe in it.
“Why are you here?” She lowered her eyes to him.
He looked at her at last.
“I am sorry. I could not stay away any longer.” His voice was low as he spoke, an honesty in his silver eyes that drew a frown from her.
She hadn’t seen honesty in anyone’s eyes in a long time. She had seen pity, disgust, guilt, and everything in between, but not honesty.
He was truly sorry, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Couldn’t stay away?” The answer struck her. “You mean from Sable.”
He had come for her friend again, sent here to make another attempt to take her to his realm. He was going to be sorely disappointed.
“She isn’t here. As far as I know, she’s in Hell with Thorne.”
His gaze locked with hers. “From you.”
Emelia stared into those honest eyes, saw the truth in them as they brightened, turning gold at the edges, and panicked.
She backed off a step as the fear he had chased away surged through her, memories fighting to the surface to twist her thoughts. She had to get away. She had to go. It wasn’t safe here. She swallowed her racing heart and tried to calm her mind, but fear sank icy claws into both of them, and she couldn’t breathe.
He sat up, grimacing as he clutched his left side. “I am sorry. Do not fear me. I would never hurt you, Emelia.”
She couldn’t convince herself to believe that.
Zephyr had told her he would never hurt her again, and then he had struck her so hard when she had refused his advances that he had broken one of her ribs. She lowered her hand to her right side, mirroring the angel as he struggled to his feet, pain tightening his features.
“Emelia,” he murmured, his soft voice doing nothing to calm her this time. “I need to know more about you… about that diabolical bastard who hurt you.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to speak about such things. She just wanted to leave. She needed to leave. So why couldn’t she convince her feet to move?
Why did part of her want to stay?
“I tried to forget you,” he grated, the gold that ringed his irises beginning to invade them now as the air around him darkened. “I tried to forget what I saw… but I cannot… and I cannot focus on my duty anymore. The dragon must pay.”
All her fear and panic flooded out of her just like that, as if he had uttered magical words not a simple vow to avenge her. Calm flowed in, cold and clinical, erasing all feeling in its path, leaving her feeling empty inside.
She stared into his shifting eyes, ones that were still honest and open, hiding none of his feelings. His anger. His fury. It was all there for her to see.
“The dragon lives in Hell,” she uttered.
A place he apparently couldn’t go without experiencing great pain.
“I do not care.” He ground the words out as the air around him continued to darken and his eyes brightened further, pulling her under their spell. “I will slay this dragon for you.”
She wanted that.
She wanted Zephyr dead.
But if the angel ventured into Hell, he would be weakened, in danger of being killed by Zephyr. Sending him to hunt the dragon might be sending him to his death.
Was that a price she could bring herself to pay for a shot at revenge?

Purchase Links

Books in the Series

Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (FREE AT SELECTED RETAILERS!)
Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King (Just 99c right now!)
Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince (Discounted to $2.99 right now!)


About Felicity
Felicity Heaton
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling London Vampires series. Seven sexy and sinful Greek god brothers can be your new addiction in the Guardians of Hades series. Or how about four hot alpha shifter brothers in her Cougar Creek Mates series? Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places: