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Avenging Angel

Avenging Angel


Description : Avenging Angel
Marna awoke to pain. Her eyelids flew open as a white-hot fire sent bolts of agony throbbing through her whole body. The fire burned the hottest near her shoulder blades. Burned.

She screamed as loud as she could and she jerked, trying to rise and get away from that agony—only to find that she couldn’t move.

They’d strapped her onto some kind of table. She was lying facedown, held almostpletely immobile by the bonds.

“Easy . . .” A man’s slow, drawling voice came from beside her. She saw faded jeans. Tanned hands. Then he bent and brushed back her hair. “You’re gonna be all right.”

Marna stared into his face—strong, fierce, dangerous—and knew he was lying. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She knew his face. Knew him—and knew that he wasn’t a man at all. Not really.

Monster.

A beast lived beneath his skin. One that was just dying to break out.

Another stab of pain hit her back, and she flinched at the fresh burn. The monster’s face tightened, and he said, “Don’t worry. He’s almost finished sewing your wounds closed.”

Sewing you . . .

She swallowed back the scream. Someone was sewing up her back. Mending flesh that had been sliced open.

Nausea hit her. Fear and fury had her shaking. “My . . . wings . . .” She barely managed to get the words out because her throat was so dry. Parched. Probably from all her screams. But she had to ask about her wings. They were the only things that mattered.

Marna was an angel, and an angel without wings . . .

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