In
an epic madcap battle between good and evil,
a Demon just might earn his wings . . .
and spend eternity with the Vangel of his wildest dreams.
a Demon just might earn his wings . . .
and spend eternity with the Vangel of his wildest dreams.
GOOD VAMPIRES GO TO HEAVEN
Deadly Angels #8
Sandra Hill
Releasing Nov 29th, 2016
Avon Books
New York Times bestselling author
SANDRA HILL continues her sexy deadly angels series with a good demon who might
finally get his vangel wings…
WHEN HE WAS BAD . . .
Two-thousand-year-old
vampire demon Zeb is supposed to spend eternity turning mortal sinners into bad
guy Lucipires like himself. That way, they can grow their numbers and fight the
vampire angels known as Vangels. But Zeb is a bad boy in a good way—secretly
working as a double agent for none other than St. Michael the Archangel in
hopes of one day earning his wings. Problem is, Zeb’s betrayal is discovered.
Hello,
demon dungeon.
HE WAS VERY BAD . . .
Until
Regina, a foxy, flame-haired Vangel witch on a rescue mission, busts out Zeb,
along with three oddball Lucipire witches. Hello, temptation!
BUT TOGETHER THEY WERE VERY GOOD . .
. !
Their
escape unleashes a war to defeat all Vangels forevermore. In an epic madcap
battle between good and evil, a Demon just might earn his wings . . . and spend
eternity with the Vangel of his wildest dreams.
Excerpt
A
blue mist seemed to swirl above, then settle around them like a cloudy cocoon.
The rain aroma intensified, and for the first time she smelled her own cinnamon
fragrance that Zeb had alluded to. Cinnamon rain, for sure. They ought to make
a scented candle with that name.
Zeb’s drinking from her was slow and
rhythmic and only tiny sips at a time. But, oh, the bliss! It was both primal
and sexual. No wonder vangels who mated sometimes fanged each other while
making love.
Regina arched her head back to give
Zeb better access, an ageless gesture of female submission. How odd! That she
would surrender anything to a man!
Only her breasts pressed against his
battered body, the rest of her half on, half off the bed, her legs dangling
over the side. Still, she adjusted herself so as not to hurt him, and in the
process she twined the fingers of one of her hands with his, and she placed her
other hand against his head, to hold him in place.
His hand still cupped her nape, but
his other hand was making sweeping caresses over her back, from shoulder to
rump and back again. Over and over. Even though she wore one of his old
T-shirts and jogging shorts, she felt naked under his touch.
Regina was more aroused than she’d
ever been in all her life. Not that she’d been inclined to lust very often.
Once every century or so.
She wanted to climb atop his body
and rub herself against him. Skin to skin. Breast to chest. Pubic bone to pubic
bone. Thigh against thigh.
She couldn’t. Even if she could, she
wouldn’t.
She wanted to kiss his lips and draw
his tongue into her mouth. She would suck on him with childlike hunger. No, not
childlike. Nothing childlike about the hunger she was feeling.
In any case, it was a moot point. It
was hard to kiss a fanging man when only one set of fangs was involved. Two
sets? Impossible! Wasn’t it? They might even get locked together. Imagine
Vikar’s consternation if she arrived back at the castle fang-locked with a
demon vampire, wanting him to unlock them. They would be the laughingstock of
all vangeldom. Angeldom, too, she supposed.
She could imagine the jokes.
“How do two vampires kiss?”
“Carefully.”
Better she concentrate on something
else.
She had to stop Zeb’s drinking from
her, for now, or she would be drained. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up
and away, until his fangs withdrew from her with a small pop. He licked the
skin, reflexively, to seal the wound.
“That’s all for now,” she said and
rose off the bed. Her shaky knees almost gave out. How was she going to do this
again and again until Zeb was healed? She would be a basket case. The most
satisfied woman in the universe! Or the most stirred up and antsy for release!
Yikes!
Zeb’s
eyes opened for a moment, and he said, “Thank you.” Almost immediately, he fell
back asleep, or unconscious. His body still threw off heat like an inferno; so
the danger was not over. Still, she sensed that he was a little better.
She covered his body with a thin
sheet, dabbed at the blood on his lips with a tissue (the fangs having
retracted already), and finally replied to his comment, “No. Thank you!”
Sandra
Hill is a
graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer
and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing
about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even
the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four
sons.
No comments:
Post a Comment