Friday, October 24, 2014

Promo & Giveaway: Her Avenging Angel by Felicity Heaton





Find Felicity and her books

Her Avenging Angel 
Her Angel Romance #7




Lysia stared up at the huge white building that stretched wide in front of her, dotted with rectangles, some of which shone yellow while others were dark. The third row of them on the section of building before her were all yellow, as if a fire burned within.

Nevar tugged on her wrist, pulling her along the path towards the building and a broad dark door up some steps beneath a columned porch. The King of Demons followed behind her and she could feel his shrewd gaze on her. It hadn’t left her since they had departed the place that Nevar had informed her was called Cloud Nine. The wily king did not trust her, although she didn’t know why.

Perhaps because she felt attached to his servant?

It hadn’t taken her more than a few seconds to realise that Nevar was just that—the sole servant of the King of Demons, bound to him by contract. Asmodeus had been the one who had turned Nevar demonic, and it seemed her warrior desired to make him pay for that. Because he believed it would bring back the good in him?

She felt sorry for him, because she knew deep inside her that on some level, unconscious to him, he truly believed that, and it wouldn’t work.

Even if he slayed the King of Demons, it wouldn’t free him from the darker side of his soul.

She looked down at his hand on her wrist, at the black fingers tipped with claws. He despised what had happened to him and yet half of his arms and up to his knees was darkness, a sign that he was merging with another form. One locked within him? She had heard tales that the King of Demons could wear another form, one closer to the dark beast the Devil held hidden beneath his charming façade. Nevar had such a form too, but he had given it free reign, allowing both forms to become blurred and altered.

Why had he done such a thing when he wanted the evil gone from his soul?

By allowing it, he had made it impossible for him to purge that evil.

She lifted her other hand and stroked the line of his fingers, from his knuckles to the points of his black claws. He looked down at her, his jade eyes fixed on his hand too, watching her. His black skin was smooth beneath the pads of her fingers and warm too, not as rough or cold as she had expected. He held such heat and strength, and countered it with softness that she could only surmise came from his angelic side.

He flitted between violent and aggressive, and gentle and tender with her.

Asmodeus moved past him, his enormous glossy black wings furled against his bare back, and knocked on the dark door.

In the club, the black-haired male had declared her an admirer of Nevar’s and had spoken it with a mocking edge to his voice, one that had made her feel he believed no one could admire his servant.

She did.

He was strong, whether he felt it or not. She could see his strength in his eyes and it came not from his body but his heart. It was born of the gentle side of him, the one that battled the darkness and craved the light.

The door swung open and Lysia looked there.

A tawny-haired large male stood in the opening.

An angel.

She shrank behind Nevar, pressing her free hand to the back plate of his armour, between the two vertical slots where his wings should be. He had hidden them back at the club, forcing them away with a trace of disgust colouring his eyes. He despised them too.

He hated much, and she could sympathise. She hated many things too.

At the top of that list were angels.

She bared her fangs at the male in warning. If he dared to attack, she would kill him. She wouldn’t allow him near her or Nevar.

“Einar will not hurt you.” Nevar gave an expectant look to the angel. “Will you, Einar?”

The big male shrugged thickly hewn shoulders beneath his tight black t-shirt. “Not unless she gives me a reason to hurt her.”

She growled at that.

His full lips quirked at the corners and an amused glimmer shone in his rich brown eyes. “It was a joke.”

“Not a very funny one,” Nevar said and walked forwards.

She stayed put, refusing to move, even when Nevar stopped and tugged on her wrist. She unleashed a fraction of her power, enough to keep her bare feet rooted to the spot.

“He means me harm,” she whispered when Nevar looked over his wide shoulders at her.

He sighed and smiled, melting her insides. He was gorgeous when he smiled and it reached his jade eyes, brightening them and chasing away the shadows. “He won’t hurt you. If he does, I will kill him. Okay?”

She considered that and then nodded. “Okay.”

Einar turned to Asmodeus. “Did your boy just threaten to kill me?”

Asmodeus grinned wickedly. “It has become apparent that he has a possessive streak.”

The tawny-haired male shifted his dark eyes back to her. “Who is she anyway?”

When she stepped out from behind Nevar, his eyes widened just as Asmodeus’s had on first seeing her wings. She wasn’t sure why they all looked at them that way, as if they had never seen such a thing. She felt certain there were other females in Hell who had wings.

She knew of one female who definitely did.

“Why do you all stare so? The original angel had wings and none stared at her.”

All three men turned stunned gazes on her.

It was the angel who spoke. “What the hell did she just say?”

Neither Asmodeus nor Nevar acknowledged him.

Nevar turned back to face her and dipped his head, bringing his eyes down to level with hers. “You know Amelia?”


She shook her head. “I know no such female.”

“Amelia is the original angel,” Nevar said and she shook her head again.

“She is not called Amelia.” Lysia searched her memories for the name of the original angel, the one who had provided much amusement for the Devil over the millennia. “I do not recall her name but it was not Amelia. I recall that she died. Was another born?”

He nodded. “She survived this time, with the help of the Hell’s angel and the angel of Heaven.”

“Interesting. What else has happened?” She wanted to know. The world had changed from how she remembered it and the balance of power had changed with it.

“Maybe you should all come inside and tell me why you both can understand her and I can’t,” Einar said and she glared at him. He shot one back at her and shifted into the shadows inside the building.

Asmodeus followed him inside and she trailed along behind Nevar.

“What is the last thing you can remember before the battle?” he said in a low voice that she felt was meant for her ears only.

She racked her brain, working forwards from the furthest point she could recall until she reached the memories that hurt her head.

A beautiful scene played out in her mind, golden sand stretching as far as the eye could see, broken only by the wide dark swath of the Nile and the palms that dotted its banks. Beyond it stood the most incredible thing she had seen.


Nevar stopped dead and she bumped into his back. He looked over his shoulder, his jade eyes filled with incredulity.

“You remember Thebes?”

She nodded.

“Not Thebes like a ruin… like it is today… but like a city?”

She nodded again. “I recall the people coming and going, and how they would speak of their lives. I spent the whole day basking in the sun and watching them, learning about them.”

“You understood their language?” He turned back to face her. “As you understand mine?”

“I understand all languages… but I cannot speak them.”

He stared at her as if he hadn’t understood her and she was on the verge of repeating herself, afraid that he might have lost the talent to hear her words in a language he knew, when he moved closer, coming to tower over her, his expression holding a cold edge that she didn’t like, one that unsettled her.

“Thebes has not been a city in over two thousand years.”

Her eyes widened. Two thousand years.

“But I recall it as if it was only yesterday and it was the last memory that is clear to me. How is that possible?” Her heart pounded hard against her chest, a shiver going through her as she stared up into his eyes, searching them for the answer even when she knew he didn’t have it for her.

He hesitated and then lifted his right hand and settled it against her cheek, his palm resting softly on her skin and his fingertips touching the line of her jaw. “We will find out, but first we must see if Taylor knows of your kind.”

She looked beyond him to the dark entrance of the building. A half-demon. Nevar had explained that Taylor often worked with people he knew, helping them with their problems. She hoped the female warrior could help her.

Nevar took her hand in his and the world and her worries melted away as she looked down at them, at his long black fingers pressing into the back of her hand. She liked the feel of it and the heat that rushed through her whenever they touched.

She liked his heat.

It was there in his eyes whenever he looked at her, a palpable hunger that echoed within her and called to her, luring her into stepping nearer to him and closing the gap between them.


Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:
Book 2: Her Fallen Angel
Book 3: Her Warrior Angel
Book 4: Her Guardian Angel
Book 5: Her Demonic Angel
Book 6: Her Wicked Angel
Book 7: Her Avenging Angel


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