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Ashes of Angels
Michele Hauf
Cassandra knows her dark destiny.She is a muse, who will one day be sought by a Fallen angel, to be the mother of his nephilim child – a fate that will destroy her. Samandiriel walks alone amongst his Fallen brethren. He refuses to use mortal females as vessels for his evil offspring. He’s determined to protect them. But now he’s been summoned to capture a muse, Cassandra, against his will.Together Sam and Cassandra must fight to keep her alive and to prevent the Fallen from achieving their sinister goals. Cassandra trusts Sam, but he can’t trust his own compulsion to mate with her. Can they stop the apocalypse before Sam’s desire overtakes him?“Michele Hauf delivers excitement, danger and romance in a way only she can! ” – Sherrilyn Kenyon Includes bonus story
“Angels have never been fiction.”
He was right, of course, but had Cassandra ever imagined she’d one day be standing in an angel’s arms? Yes, she had. It had been a blissful, sensual dream of a warrior.
Sam stroked her shoulders and bent before her, as if to kiss her. But he only lingered there, their mouths inches apart, breaths dallying, eyes searching each other’s.
She wanted the kiss. It was wrong on so many levels, but she needed it. Yet she sensed Sam would not give it. Could not. Because they were both fearful of the Pandora’s box their desire could open.
But at that moment all she heard was an insistent voice inside her head. Kiss him. It will be dangerous … but how can you resist?
Dear Reader,
As with most of my Nocturne™ books, this story stands alone but is set in my Beautiful Creatures world. I’ve created Club Scarlet online so you can look up characters and learn more about them. Stop by and check it out at clubscarlet.michelehauf.com.
I’m pleased that the novella The Ninja Vampire’s Girl is included with this release. It features Coco Stevens, the sister of Cassandra (who is the heroine of Ashes). If you want to read events in order, that novella takes place about five months before Ashes of Angels, so I suggest you page to the back of this book and read the novella first. (But you won’t be mixed up if you choose not to; I promise.) I hope you enjoy the stories. I had an amazing time creating them.
Michele Hauf
About the Author
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. Her first published novel was Dark Rapture. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries populate her stories. And if she followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries she has never visited and of creatures she has never seen.
Michele can also be found on Facebook and Twitter and michelehauf.com. You can also write to Michele at: PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.
Ashes of
Angels
Michele Hauf
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Prologue
Cassandra Stevens stepped back from the finished silver sculpture to admire her handiwork. She had formed the male body from silver sheet metal, and worked with various shaped anvils to capture the smooth muscles and lithe structure of the male form. For the wings, stretched back and out from the body, she had used a lost-wax casting method to achieve the intricate barbed vanes.
A month’s work glistened under the bright light that hung over her workbench.
When she wasn’t working afternoons at the Central library as a research assistant, she spent her evenings designing silver objects d’art and jewelry. Her dream of forming an elite jewelry design business were going much slower than planned since arriving in Berlin two years ago, but better to be meticulous and careful than to rush into things. At least regarding business.
In life, rushing into things was always the better option. Danger did not sit back and wait for a person to weigh their options. One must always be ready.
Yeah, you go, Action Danger Girl, she chided her silent thoughts. Thinking she was ready was much easier than actually being ready. She’d never be sure. Never.
The silver sculpture had known its form the moment she’d begun to sketch a flat image on paper and had then transferred it to a sheet of silver.
“An angel,” she murmured, knowing, as she’d been working on it, how telling it was she sculpted an angel.
Fascinated during the process, her fingers had worked of their own volition, as if they instinctively knew what her subject should look like. That had never happened with any of her previous projects.
Tossing her hair over a shoulder, loosely bunched at the middle with a ribbon to contain the thick, wavy tresses that hung to her elbows, Cassandra stroked a finger down the abdomen of the figure. She sighed. This was the closest she’d been to six-pack abs in months. Lately, her social life had been suffering for her art.
What social life? You forgot to get yourself one of those, remember?
Another sigh would just be redundant.
The silver wings stretched out behind the sculpture about a foot, and the whole work was heavy, but not delicate, for she’d riveted and soldered the wings in place.
Cassandra had dreamed of winged men most of her life. Winged nightmares had visited her sleep, as well. But her hopeful heart emerged during that flicker of wakefulness following a nightmare and, as a result, the dreams overcame the nightmares.
Most of the time. Doom remained the overwhelming common theme in her dreams.
Angels were … not good. The Fallen ones Granny Stevens had taught her about were downright evil. They were as spiteful, selfish and dangerous as some mortals.
But one angel managed to rise above the dire warnings and tease her admiration. She’d never imagined his face—until now.
Studying the tiny face about the size of her thumb, Cassandra offered him an approving nod. “You are a handsome bloke.” No halo sat above the sculpture’s head, but that made sense to her. He wouldn’t have one.
A dangerous thrill giddied over her skin. She’d created an effigy of something others believed could harm her.
Danger teased, and she always responded. “Will I meet you someday?”
She carried it into her bedroom and placed it on the pine dresser opposite the end of her bed. Sitting on the bed, beneath the violet mesh canopy, she marveled that the angel looked down over her. She hadn’t planned it that way.
He’s the furthest thing from a guardian angel.
“I pray to survive when finally you come for me,” she said to the sculpture. “I can feel it. You’ll be here soon.”
Paris—Underground
“We’ve intercepted sensitive information between a muse and a hunter.” Bruce Westing handed the tribe leader, Antonio del Gado, a computer printout of conversations. “Cassandra Stevens is located in Berlin. She’s the contact point for what I estimate to be at least three muses traveling to Germany. And, I can’t verify this, but I think a pregnant muse is also on her way to Berlin via unknown escort.”
Del Gado slapped the paper on the desk before him. “She’s pregnant with a nephilim?”
“Fingers crossed.”
Bruce winced when he realized that should have been a more exacting reply. He was doing the best he could with the technologically inept staff provided for him. Tribe Anakim was one of the most clichéd groups of vampires around. They lurked in darkness due to their extreme sun affliction, and Bruce was never surprised when one developed the Bela Lugosi sneer and creep.
The tribe leader rubbed the heel of his palm over an eye. The man was ancient, and had big dreams, but Bruce supported his wacky idea. Being denied the sun for centuries would try any man’s nerves. “How many more names do we have?”
Bruce tapped the laptop keys. Antonio del Dado didn’t know how to use a computer any more than the other tribe members, so Bruce was the tech wizard for tribe Anakim, as well as the chief angel tracker. The latter was much less taxing on his patience.
“Only three,” he reported, turning the laptop so Antonio could read the names. “You want me to prepare the summoning room?”
“Yes, immediately. If any number of muses are congregating in Berlin, then we’ll have to bring the Fallen to them. And check with Rovonsky. He’s been preparing equipment for capturing and securing the nephilim. The equipment is easy enough to move. I say we leave for Berlin before daybreak.”
Bruce lifted a brow but didn’t comment. Anakim’s entire tribe lived by the night. They had slaves to do their day work. Like him.
Not a slave, but a well-paid employee.
“This is finally coming together, Bruce. I can feel it. Soon, tribe Anakim’s bloodline will be infused with the blood from our nephilim ancestors. We will finally become daywalkers. Do you know, I haven’t seen the sun for three centuries?”
“That’s a long time, boss. You could use a tan.”
Antonio’s expression remained sober.
Reminded of the boss’s lack of humor, Bruce closed the laptop. “I’m on it. And I’ll send a man after the muse, Cassandra Stevens, to keep an eye on her.”
“Excellent. Soon, Bruce, soon, a plague of dark divinity will stalk the earth.”
Yeah, whatever. Always so dramatic, the boss man. Just as long as that plague stayed away from him.
“When this is over,” Bruce muttered as he strode down the torchlit walls of Anakim’s lair, “I’m going topside for good.”
Coco Stevens listened to the phone ring endlessly. Her boyfriend, Zane, waited in the doorway, one of Coco’s pink suitcases in hand. Outside in the cab sat Ophelia O’Malley, her pregnant belly ready to burst from the seams of her stretchy sweater dress.
“No luck?” Zane asked and glanced outside. “You can try calling your sister again when we reach the airport.”
“I forgot to charge my cell phone, and you don’t carry one.”
“They do still have pay phones, love.”
Sighing and hanging up the landline, Coco melted into her boyfriend’s embrace. That Cassandra trusted her enough to handle this mission meant the world to her, but that also meant she couldn’t screw it up, or there’d be no future missions. Coco was all about the adventure.
“I wanted to let Caz know we were on our way. She’s been uptight about us informing her on every leg of this mission.” She peered over his shoulder. Berlin was getting a snowstorm, but here in London it was raining. “Is Ophelia all right?”
“The muse is fine. Craving a pint, or so she says. But I don’t think alcohol is safe for a pregnant mother, eh?”
“She’s due any day now. I’d say a little beer isn’t going to hurt a thing. We’ll get her something at the airport.” She closed the door to her flat behind them and locked it. “Cassandra must be out skiing or free-running, or doing something dangerous. She’s been into the danger-play lately. I worry about her, Zane. She’s not indestructible, yet she thinks she is.”
Zane wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the cab. “She’s got a lot on her shoulders, love. I think it’s her way of spitting at the big bads and challenging her less-than-rosy destiny. Of course, Adventure is not her middle name.”
“It’s mine,” Coco said with a gushing smile and kissed her lover. “I hope she’s out partying. Living it up before, well, you know.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head, love.” He helped her into the back of the cab, then went around to put the suitcase in the boot. “Off with Adventure in hand,” Zane muttered. “Never a dull moment with the Stevens sisters.”
Chapter 1
The halo hunter’s shoulders hit the wall, the back of his skull thudding rather loudly from impact. Samandiriel held him with ease—and one hand—about the neck. The hard knob of an Adam’s apple gulped against his palm. Mortals were startlingly delicate.
To the hunter’s favor, he didn’t kick at him, but merely hung calmly. The mortal’s pulse banged beneath his palm. Quite a unique feeling. Samandiriel had no pulse.
“You’re … second … seen …”
“Stop mumbling, human,” Samandiriel said. A leather messenger bag strapped over one of the hunter’s shoulders revealed its contents. He sorted through the dozens of clanking halos in the bag, but couldn’t resist asking, “Second?”
“A-angel,” the hunter croaked.
“That you’ve seen? Well, aren’t you lucky? Most mortals never get to see such a thing. Do you marvel over me?”
“Uh, sure. M-marvel.”
One halo glowed, but before Samandiriel could touch it, he felt a prickle of awareness, brought on by an intruder approaching from behind.
Turning, and keeping the halo hunter pinned to the wall, he thrust out a hand to stop the person who approached. The simple gesture slammed the intruder against the opposite wall. Apparently more willful than the halo hunter, this one dropped to her feet and came at him again. The tiny female flashed a sneer and wielded ineffectual fists before her.
“Vinny … okay … “
The woman stood straight, dropping her fists, evidently understanding the hunter’s abbreviated reassurance.
Before she could dodge, Samandiriel placed the heel of his palm against her forehead. A flash of her memory assaulted his brain and he grasped a very pertinent detail about her.
“Vampire?” He made a fist to swing—
“No!” The hunter squirmed and now he did kick, but only managed a knee to Samandiriel’s thigh. “She’s not dangerous!”
Bouncing on her fancy high heels as if ready for the next swing, the vampire in question quirked a brow and huffed, disagreeing with the assessment of her lacking danger. “Another angel?”
“Others have been here before me?” Samandiriel asked the hunter. “That’s right, I’m the second.” He loosened his grip to allow the man to slide to the floor and stand of his own volition. “Where is the other? What was his name?”
“Zaqiel. He’s dead now. But the vampires—”
“Are summoning the Fallen?” Samandiriel spoke the knowledge he’d pulled from the vampiress. “You can verify that is true?”
“Yes, tribe Anakim,” said the hunter. “But she’s not with the bad vampires. She’s with me.”
Samandiriel assessed the twosome. He read the mortal hunter’s confidence, yet the man maintained a healthy respect for the divine. While the female, who seemed to match his cockiness, possessed an innate fear of him that held her at a distance. He did not fault her vampirism. Hate was not in his arsenal. But he would be cautious. He’d not dealt with a fanged one in the short time he’d walked the earth.
Shoving his hand into the messenger bag, Samandiriel claimed the one halo that glowed blue and held it before him. “This one is mine.”
“I can see that.”
“Luck in your quest, mortal. And you.” He turned to the vampiress, who backed against the wall. He placed a palm against her forehead and strained the details of the angel summonings from her. She knew much. It was information he needed.
Vampires had summoned him to earth?
His original goal to stalk his fellow Fallen in order to win his return Above remained. However, with vampires in the mix, now he’d have to change tactics.
The hard-driving rock anthem blasted a sexy, moaning chorus that enticed Cassandra onto the dance floor of club Schwarz. She didn’t understand a lot of German, but the lyrics didn’t matter. The beat thundered in her heart. Warm bodies dancing close by brushed her skin and, at times, matched her rhythm with a sexy rotation of hips.
The club decor was black, covering everything from the walls, tables, ceiling, glasses and goblets (including the drinks in clear glass) and bathrooms. The lighted floors flashed white squares and illuminated most, and the sparkles in the black paint shimmered as if it was a midnight sky.
She loved this club, and it had been too long since she’d been here. After completing the angel sculpture something had compelled her to get out of the flat and let loose. It was high time she kicked her lacking social life into gear.
She’d lost track of her date but wasn’t overly concerned. Marcus wasn’t exactly a date. The guy down the street had asked her out a dozen times and she’d finally succumbed. A little too tug-the-tie for her—though she did find his glasses sexy—he was probably at the bar nursing a vodka neat. He was a computer tech at MasterSysteme, yet it was apparent Marcus had no idea how to let loose after hours. He refused to dance, telling her to go off and enjoy herself.
