Centuries ago, guardian angel Lucien
committed a terrible sin. He gave into his own desires and revealed himself to
the mortal woman he'd been charged to protect. By kissing her, he condemned
himself. Torn of his wings and his angelic powers, thrown down into the City
Below, Lucien now serves Satan as an incubus who claims souls for his master
from the City Above, and who feeds on the energy stolen from his mortal lovers.
Dark, sexy and charming, he's been top of his league for decades uncounted.
Until His Infernal Highness decides to send
Lucien looking for a lost angel. Lucien has no idea what he did to deserve such
a punishment, and the touch of an angel could destroy him. Yet the challenge
and the potential kudos of seducing one of his former heavenly kin leads him
But when he finds the angel, he learns he still
has more to lose than his already forsaken soul.
Her voice stopped him dead. His back burned.
"Lucien." She spoke more softly as if
she'd come closer. Or perhaps it was because the world around him had slowed
and blurred away. All he could focus on was her gentle voice and the sense of
her, of golden light and floral scent. For a moment, he immersed himself in
only that. Then, he blanked it out, closed her out, and turned around.
She moved toward him, one hand outstretched as
if to placate an injured wild creature. Lucien froze, every muscle in his body
knotted so tight he thought he might shatter. As she closed the distance, the
heat of her hand scorched his cheek and he flinched away.
She stopped, hazel eyes wide in distress.
Sorry? Anger flooded his veins with sudden
heat. No, but she would be. He flashed a smile and forced his body to relax.
She shivered as he turned on his full charm and captured her gaze. Her pupils
dilated as he leaned into her.
"Miranda," he murmured. "You
must hold back your powers, or you'll destroy me. You don't want to do that, do
She shook her head. "No. No, that's not
what I want. I came to find you. To save you..."
Save me? Lucien shook the thought off. No, he was
beyond redemption. But if that was truly what she sought, then it gave him even
greater power over her.
"Then give me your hand and come with
me." He reached for her, quelling the shake in his fingers. Either she'd
obey and he'd be safe, or her touch would turn him to smoke and ashes in an
instant, at which point he'd no longer care. In a way, he almost hoped for the
Her white fingers slipped into his palm, and
for an instant the cool softness of her skin threw his thoughts into turmoil. So smooth and delicate. So fragile. He
stared at her hand within his, and slowly closed his fingers, fearful of
crushing hers. His resolve faltered. With that gesture she'd put her trust and
her very existence in his hands. Just so he could betray her.
He looked into her face, into the wide-eyed
innocence. And something more. Compassion? Faith? Again, the stone shell around
his heart cracked, and he grunted in pain, clutching at his chest with his free
"Lucien?" She put her other hand to
his chest too, and healing warmth spread from her touch, but as it reached his
dead heart, the pain only intensified.
"No." He captured her other hand and
squeezed them both in reassurance, to her or to himself he couldn't be sure.
Liar. Even with her powers held at bay and under his
thrall, she could still harm him. Had still hurt him when her touch set his
heart to beat. What did it mean? At this point he was in more danger from her
than she was from him.
She smiled, and he almost fell to his knees to
beg for her forgiveness. So beautiful. So
pure. The light of her soul dazzled him, and he wanted to throw himself
into her arms, lose himself in a kiss, and say to Hell with Satan and
everything else in the universe. He shook himself. Who was bewitching who here?
Could an angel beguile a demon so easily? He was meant to be the one charming
He reached one hand to stroke her cheek, and
she leaned into his palm as if she'd been waiting for that one thing for all
eternity. Smooth, cool skin. Lucien groaned. Dare he? Would he throw his
existence away for a second kiss, just as he had damned himself for the first?
"Miranda." He bent his head,
hesitating just half an inch from her mouth. As if she knew his uncertainty,
she closed the gap between them, her lips brushing his.
Blood rushed through his head, singing in his
veins. Euphoria like nothing he'd ever known. Bliss he could never have
imagined. Her kiss woke a fire so fierce inside him he thought it might melt
the stone of his heart and scatter his ashes to the winds. His arms slipped
around her waist, pulling her closer, the press of her body against his like a
draft of sweet, chilled wine, full of golden promise.
His knees buckled. Damn it, no demon should
fall to an angel like this.
After spending twelve years working as an Analytical
Chemist in a Metals and Minerals laboratory, Pippa Jay is now a stay-at-home
mum who writes scifi and the supernatural. Somewhere along the way a touch of
romance crept into her work and refused to leave. In between torturing her
plethora of characters, she spends the odd free moment playing guitar very
badly, punishing herself with freestyle street dance, and studying the Dark
Side of the Force. Although happily settled in the historical town of Colchester
in the UK with her husband of 21 years and three little monsters, she continues
to roam the rest of the Universe in her head.