NEW RELEASE - ANGELS AND ANARCHY!
Angels and Anarchy: Hunters Hollow, Book One is finally live on Amazon and free to read with your Kindle Unlimited Subscription!
Slinging drinks in New Orleans' French Quarter isn’t the most glamorous job, but Braeden Burke loves the lights, the music, and the excitement. As a long-time believer—even before Otherlings had waltzed out of the paranormal closet—spending his nights flirting with gorgeous werewolves and smooth-talking vampires isn’t exactly a chore. His life is easy, colorful, and for the most part, free of drama.
Until fate throws him a curveball.
It was supposed to be his day off. Instead, Zarrik Cox is called in to investigate the murder of a high-ranking member of the Ministry of Otherling Affairs. Tracking down the only witness to the crime is easy. Discovering the vulnerable human is his mate is a complication he wasn’t expecting.
He might be a nephilim, but he’s no angel, and he’s damn sure no one’s savior. But with a killer on the loose, and Braeden caught in the crosshairs, there's no limit to how far he'll go to keep his new mate safe.
Gods, he was in rough shape, but despite the bruising and swelling, he was even lovelier up close. The smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks made him look incredibly innocent, as did the way his bottom lip protruded into an adorable pout, even in sleep.
The initial radiance that surrounded him had faded, but it was no less alluring in its subtlety. Instead, it settled around him now, soft and pale, lustrous like starlight.
“Oh, tarro.” He sighed, wanting nothing more at that moment than to wrap Braeden in his arms and protect him from the whole damn world. “It’s going to be okay.”
Easing down on the edge of the mattress, he brushed Braeden’s hair back from his brow, then cradled his mate’s face gently between his palms. Calling forth the power he usually tried to bury, he let it wash over him, through him, until it filled every inch of his being.
His pulse doubled. His canines lengthened again. The skin between his shoulder blades tightened, the muscles knotted and aching. Bright, golden light rippled through his veins as the magic surged and built to a crescendo.
When it crested, he refocused and redirected, sending the energy flowing out through his fingertips and into his mate. Like thin rays of healing sunshine, the light flooded into Braeden’s cheeks, then traveled down his neck, dispersing as it searched out his injuries to mend them one by one.
After several minutes that felt like a lifetime, his power began to ebb, and the light that coursed between them dimmed and faded. Dizzy and exhausted from the strain that kind of magic put on his body, he brushed his thumbs over Braeden’s cheeks before reluctantly pulling his hands away.
It wasn’t dramatic like the movies. Braeden’s eyes didn’t pop open immediately. He didn’t suddenly jerk upright and gasp for breath. Instead, he came awake gradually, and at first, the only indication that anything had changed was the steady strengthening of his pulse on the monitor.
Then, he started to move. Little things at first, like his fingers and his lips. As the minutes ticked past, he became more restless, sawing his legs together and rolling his head from side to side on the pillow. Eventually, his eyelids began to flutter more rapidly, and when they finally opened, Zarrik found himself lost in a pair of dazzling hazel eyes.
“Hi,” Braeden said, his voice low and raspy. He looked a little dazed, and he wore the sappiest smile on his lips.
Zarrik grinned in return. “Hello, Braeden.”
“You’re really pretty.”
Huffing out a surprised laugh, Zarrik shook his head. The poor guy was going to be a little punch-drunk until the effects of the healing wore off, but he had to admit, it was cute as hell.
“Am I dead?”
“Oh, no, tarro.” He took the hand not attached to the IV and cradled it between both of his own. “You are very much alive.”
“Mm,” Braeden hummed. “That’s good. Being dead sounds like kind of a bummer. I’d much rather be here with you.”
Zarrik stifled another chuckle. “My name is Zarrik Cox. I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Braeden interrupted confidently.
“Mm hmm,” he hummed, his eyelids drooping again. “I know these things.”
“Is that right?” He wasn’t making any sense, of course, but Zarrik humored him anyway. “What kind of things do you know?”
“I know all ’bout you.” He cracked one eye open and giggled. “I know who you are,” he repeated. “You’re my guardian angel.”
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