Showing posts with label Blog Barrage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog Barrage. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Ares Blog Barrage


Ares, book 1 in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot new paranormal romance series, Guardians of Hades, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release of Ares and Megan’s romance, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

Enter the ARES international giveaway (ends December 11th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate by using the Rafflecopter form at her website, where you can also download a 4 chapter sample of the novel.

Here’s more about the book and the sexy Greek god hero and his heroine…

Ares (Guardians of Hades Series Book 1)
Prince of the Underworld and Lord of Fire, Ares was banished from his home by his father, Hades, two centuries ago and given a new duty and purpose—to keep our world and his from colliding in a calamity foreseen by the Moirai.

Together with his six brothers, he fights to defend the gates to the Underworld from daemons bent on breaching them and gaining entrance to that forbidden land, striving to protect his home from their dark influence. Caged by the manifestation of his power, held apart from those he loves by his own fire and starved of physical contact, Ares lives a cold existence driven by duty and the desire to return to his world.

Until his world collides with a daemon who steals his power and a mortal female who shatters the ice around his heart and awakens the true fire within him—a soul-stirring passion both dangerous and seductive.

Megan has wandered far from her home, driven from everyone she loves by the devastating realisation that she is different to them all. Unsure who to trust in the world, she keeps to herself, until a fateful stormy night brings a temptingly handsome warrior crashing into her life and into her heart—a warrior who seems to hold powers more frightening and marvellous than her own.
When the New York gate comes under threat, and Ares is put to the test, will he choose his duty and regain the power he needs in order to save his world or will he choose the desires of his heart and sacrifice his fire so he can be with the woman becoming his whole world?

ARES is available from Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Apple, and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer here.


Excerpt:
When the daemon returned, Ares would be ready to deal with him.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone into battle injured and drained, and it wouldn’t even be the worst. Life in the mortal world was making him soft. He had once battled a legion of daemons with one arm broken and several arrows lodged in his left thigh, and he had decimated them.

Ares smiled. The good old days. It had been centuries since he had gone to war together with his brothers, unleashing the hunger for violence and destruction that made the god his parents had named him after so proud of him.

He focused and the street whirled and disappeared, replaced by his apartment. He flicked the light on, illuminating the pale coffee-coloured walls and dark furniture in the open plan kitchen and living room. He looked down at his boots and the puddle already forming around them on his wooden floor, and toed them off and kicked them into the kitchen on his right. They tumbled across the tiled floor, hit one of the oak cupboards and stopped. He reached over his shoulder with his right hand, grabbed the back of his ruined wet black t-shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the tiles with his boots.

The water around his feet evaporated, steam curling off his already drying black jeans. He needed to get his mood in check before something bad happened.

He closed his eyes and drew in several deep breaths, holding each one before slowly expelling the air, and reined in his temper together with his power, restoring the usual rigid control he kept over it and stopping his flames from emerging. The heat that always surrounded him settled to a more manageable, and safer, level, and he released another breath, this one more a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was set his apartment on fire. Again. It had been a shitty enough night without that added cherry on top.

When he felt calm enough to maintain control over his fire, he walked into the open living room and pushed the second door in the wall to his left open. He switched the bathroom light on, turned and frowned at his reflection in the mirrored wall on his left above the vanity unit and sink.

He looked like hell.

The female daemon had done a number on him. Long gashes darted across his chest and forearms where she had caught him with her claws. He touched the deepest one of the three on his pectorals and beads of blood broke to the surface.

He frowned and the gold flecks in his eyes darkened to red, glowing against their earthy brown backdrop.

The daemon shouldn’t have been able to land a single blow on him, let alone several. He had been too complacent tonight. He had been dealing with low level daemons for so long that he had forgotten there were stronger ones out there, just waiting for him to drop his guard.

It wouldn’t happen again.

Ares stared at the tip of his right index finger and slowly released the iron grip he had on his power, allowing his control to slip little by little until the air around his hand shimmered and he could feel the heat of it against his chest. He slammed his hold over his flames back into place, locking them down at their current level and stopping them from burning out of control.

He ground his molars together, grabbed the edge of the oak vanity unit with his other hand to steady himself and drew his finger along the first cut across his chest. Fire blazed in the wake of his finger but he didn’t stop or make a sound, not until he had reached the end of the wound and had cauterised it.

He drew a deep breath, blew it out and flexed his fingers around the edge of the unit. His arm trembled and ached, his shoulder socket throbbing madly. Two more slashes to seal and he could rest. Pain tore through him with each one but it was necessary. He needed to regain his strength as quickly as possible and that meant helping his healing process along in his own way.

His finger reached the end of the final cut and he lowered his head, breathing hard to stifle the pain as he struggled with his power, wrestling it back under control until it was nothing more than an aura of heat around him. He could leave the cuts on his forearms. They were shallow and would easily heal without his assistance.

He flicked the steel tap on, waited until the water was frigid, and then doused his chest and arms with enough of it to clean the blood away. The water heated and steamed the second it touched his skin, and would have evaporated immediately if it hadn’t been ice cold. When the blood was gone, he settled his hands on the edges of the sink, leaning over it.

The water swirled as it reached the drain, ribbons of red streaking the maelstrom. Pain pulsed through him, stealing his strength and focus.

Motionless, he watched his blood snaking down his arms as it continued to trickle from his wounds, immune to his heat because it ran as hot as the rest of him, and then the sink, sliding down it to join the running water. It mesmerised him and time slipped past him as he lost himself in listening to his steady breathing and staring at the swirling water.

The taste of iron in his mouth slowly grew stronger, drawing his focus back to the world, and he probed each tooth with his tongue. It brushed one of his molars and the flow of blood increased. He closed his eyes, reached into his mouth and tugged the loose tooth free, turned it in his fingers, feeling nothing, and then let it fall. It clattered around the white porcelain bowl and stopped in the drain. It didn’t bother him. It would grow back in time.

His temper faded, emotions falling back into place and calm washing through him at last.

He rinsed his arms again, grabbed a white towel off the ones scrunched up on the side of the oak unit and patted himself dry, careful to avoid the cuts and keeping an eye on the soft material. With his temper back under control, it should be safe but he never could quite trust himself. It just took one wrong thought, or a momentary slip in concentration, and he had to go shopping for new linen or new towels.

Or sometimes a new couch.

His hands heated and he dropped the towel next to the sink. Tiny flames flickered over his fingertips. He shook his hand, willing them to behave, and they disappeared.

Ares turned on his heel, exited the bathroom and stalked straight towards his bedroom to his left. The world beyond the bank of windows that formed the exterior wall of his apartment was dark despite the lights from the streets and the buildings surrounding Central Park.

He banked left in his bedroom and slid the oak door to the closet open. He flicked on the light and his weapons greeted him, gleaming steel and death. The sight of them always brought a smile to his lips. There was nothing more beautiful than knives and guns.

Well.

Almost.

He stepped into the closet and ran his hand over the leather and metal circular shield hanging on the back wall, and then the hilt of the matching sword that hung behind it. Metal of the gods. It was warm beneath his fingers, vibrating with power that had him closing his eyes as he absorbed it.

How long had it been since he had wielded his blade?

Too long.

He missed the feel of it in his hand. The weight of it. Only steel forged by the gods could channel his power, and his father had deemed the weapon too destructive to use in the mortal world. Ares hadn’t been pleased to hear that, and neither had his brothers.

He pulled a circular silver and black amulet from the pocket of his jeans and hung it so it lay in the centre of his shield. It would be safest here while he went out to hunt.

He grabbed his black leather shoulder holster, backed out of the closet, switched off the light and slid the door shut. Two gleaming silver knives sat in their sheaths above two equally bright guns. He slung the holster over his bare shoulder and checked each gun, sliding the clips out to check they were fully loaded before slotting them back in and ensuring he had a round chambered.

It wasn’t often that he had to rely on mortal-made weaponry to assist him in his nightly battle against the daemons in his city, but it was reassuring to have them on hand in case he needed them. In his weakened state, they were a blessing from Zeus himself. He could use them to slow daemons down and it was far easier to kill with these weapons than it was with his power. Mortals turned a blind eye when they saw people fighting with guns. They tended to stare if he used his powers.

Ares crossed his dark bedroom to the long ebony chest of drawers that lined the dividing wall, set his weapons down and grabbed a fresh t-shirt. He slipped into the black top and then settled his holster around his broad shoulders.

Dry, armed and no longer bleeding. Things were looking up.

He veered right and skirted around the short length of wall that divided his bedroom from a smaller open room on the other side, walking between it and the red armchair of his suite. The single overhead light from the living room cast pale streaks over the fuel tank of his motorbike. He ran a hand over the paintwork as he passed, promising he would polish it soon, and then opened the French doors onto the balcony.

The city stretched before him, shrouded in rain and darkness, a panorama of a world on the edge.

Only it didn’t know it.

Only he and his brothers knew how close to destruction this world was, a curse from the Moirai so they never forgot or questioned the importance of their duty.

Its fate depended on them and their mission to protect the gates to the Underworld.

Their world.

He moved forwards to the railing, his eyes scanning the city, searching it and hoping that the feeling in his gut was wrong and he wouldn’t be needed again tonight.

Lightning forked across the sky, throwing the buildings into stark relief for a split second before descending them back into darkness. With each brilliant flash, he saw a different city.

The future of this world should they fail.

It balanced on the brink of ruin, the buildings hollow shells, torn and shattered, and the trees ablaze in the fiery darkness. The hot air carried the shrieks of the creatures responsible for the horror and the wails of suffering mortals.

Ares gripped the railing of his balcony, every muscle tensing as he caught flickers of that world in each lightning strike.

Rain lashed the dark scene, falling as water in this world and fire in the next. The wind drove it hard, so nothing could escape the inferno sweeping the land.

Lightning slammed into the earth again, causing another flicker between this rain-soaked night and what he and his brothers had termed the otherworld. It was getting worse and had been for the past decade. Something was growing in the darkness, a threat he and his brothers had been waiting to take form since the oracles had spoken of it to their father centuries ago.

Time was running out. Soon their unknown enemy would reveal themselves and the battle to prevent his world and this mortal one from colliding would begin.

A boom shook the ground and his head snapped up.

The lights across the city died, as though eaten by Nyx herself, plunging the landscape into shadows that seemed unholy and spoke to his senses. He spotted nothing in the darkness though. No sign of daemons or his prey.

Silence wrapped her arms around him, comforting and tender. Ares embraced her in return, savouring this moment of quiet, all too aware of the storm that was coming and that the battle this time would be to the death.

War was on the horizon.

Bloodshed was on his mind.

It was his duty.

He leaned forwards and glanced at the street several storeys below. Cars passed in both directions, their lights the only mortal-made ones in this dark world tonight. Thunder raged overhead and lightning ravaged the land. The scent of earth and rain filled the charged air.

He waited.

A blackout of this magnitude would draw daemons out. They would want to feed on the fear it created.

He would see to it they paid for their vile hungers.

This was his city. Maintaining the peace here and protecting it were his responsibilities, ever since his father had banished him and his brothers from the Underworld two centuries ago.

A dark curse rolled off his tongue in the mortal language and the lightning struck with more force, blazing purple-white and shaking the ground.

Had they sensed his desire to speak in his natural tongue?

The gods of Mount Olympus hated it when those with his power spoke the language of the Underworld on Earth.

Tranquil silence rolled over the world in the wake of the thunder.

The sound of his cell phone ringing shattered it.

It was muffled and distant. He had probably left it with his coat in the living room when he had gone out tonight. Whoever was ringing would give up soon and peace would be his again until the first daemon surfaced to take advantage of the storm.

The phone continued to fill the apartment with a sombre melody and then stopped.

Silence.

Ares sighed and returned his attention to his city. Each explosion of light revealed it to him. Not the otherworld this time but the current one, full of perfect buildings and unharmed nature, and no daemons crawling around. For now. They would emerge soon enough.

His phone started ringing again.

He grimaced.

They were persistent. Only one person could annoy him so thoroughly without trying. His anger rose again, his temperature rising along with it.

Closing his eyes, he reached a hand out behind him and pictured his phone. It whipped into his hand. Being a son of Hades had certain advantages. The power to manipulate his surroundings and the ability to teleport were just two of them.

The bright screen of his phone held a picture of his youngest brother grinning like a fool.

Ares wasn’t in the mood for Calistos’s usual brand of mischief tonight. He swiped his thumb over the option to ignore his call and waited for it to begin ringing again. Nothing annoyed his little brother more than being ignored. Once, Ares had declined a call three times in a row and Cal had teleported from Paris to New York just to give him an earful.

The phone remained silent this time. Maybe his brother had got the message.

He tossed the phone back into his apartment, using his power to guide it back to the crimson couch. The storm began to abate but the electricity showed no sign of returning. Would it be out all night? Now that would be the perfect end to a perfect night. He would be working until dawn to keep the daemons in check.

Rain continued to sweep across the city. It beaded on the back of his hands where they grasped the balcony railing. The droplets steamed and shrank, his body too hot for them to withstand.

Being a son of Hades had disadvantages too.

The heat inside him rose until the water on his skin evaporated. He took a deep breath and reined in his anger. The last thing he wanted to do was set fire to his apartment on a miserable night like tonight. He cursed the rain.

His insides tingled.

The rain slowed at last, causing the earthy scent of the storm to thicken, but it couldn’t mask the coppery stench of evil.

The daemon was back.

Ares rolled his shoulders, stepped back from the railing and turned his hands palm up. He channelled his power towards them. Fierce pale flames rose from his fingers, casting light over the balcony.

He grinned.

Time to hunt.


Books in the Guardians of Hades paranormal romance series:
Book 2: Valen – Coming in 2017


About Felicity Heaton:
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, her best-selling Her Angel romance series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm romance series or any of her stand alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try her Vampire Erotic Theatre romance series. Or if you like hot-blooded alpha heroes who will let nothing stand in the way of them claiming their destined woman then try her Eternal Mates series. It’s packed with sexy heroes in a world populated by elves, vampires, fae, demons, shifters, and more. If sexy Greek gods with incredible powers battling to save our world and their home in the Underworld are more your thing, then be sure to step into the world of Guardians of Hades.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

Website    |    Blog    |    Facebook
Twitter    |    Goodreads    |    Instagram

Monday, November 2, 2015

Marked by an Assassin Blog Barrage

Marked by an Assassin, the eighth book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Eternal Mates, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website and sharing sneak peeks of the book.



A snow leopard shifter exiled from his pride twenty years ago, Harbin treads the dark path of life as an assassin, driven by a hunger for vengeance, mercilessly hunting the Archangel members who attacked his kin, murdering his mother and sister.

When a new contract comes in and the mark is a snow leopard shifter, he can’t resist venturing into the mortal world on a personal mission to find out why one from a normally peaceful species now has a price on their head. What he finds in a rundown nightclub isn’t quite what he expects—a beautiful snow leopard female that awakens a fierce hunger inside him.

Aya has spent seventeen years living in London, immersed in the underbelly of the fae world, keeping her head down and her tail out of trouble. But when trouble walks right into her life in the form of a sinfully handsome, dangerous assassin, she is pulled into a whirlwind of events that stir up the nightmares of her past but might just give her a shot at putting those ghosts to rest—if she can resist the dark allure of a male she knows is her fated mate.

Can Harbin and Aya resist the passionate fire that blazes between them as they chase the vengeance they both crave? Or will they surrender to their deepest desires?


Marked by an Assassin is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer here.


Excerpt:
Screams erupted in the club and he sensed the swarm of signatures rushing towards him, crowding him and pushing at his control. He snarled through his short fangs, trying to warn them away, needing the space they were consuming in their mad panic.

Harbin flicked his eyes open and they settled on a male clad in black combat gear similar to what he wore when he was carrying out the final phase of a mission.

Only this male was no fae or demon.

He was mortal.

Archangel.

Emotions bombarded Harbin on seeing the two dozen strong mortal males surging through the room, firing on the fae in it with tranquiliser guns and crossbows, or lashing out with their black batons.

He pushed from his stool, his left leg aching under the sudden weight, and growled as he shoved the people attempting to flee away from him, clearing a space around him.

His claws lengthened at the same time as his fangs.

A young male demon went down hard at the edge of the dance floor, a dart sticking out of his left shoulder.

Harbin’s blood burned, his heart labouring as he struggled to get enough air into his lungs. He shook with a need to unleash his snow leopard side and tear through the room, the urge stronger than it had ever been, fuelled by the constant awareness of the weaker female in the club with him.

His gaze sought her, locating her as she broke free of the throng of people to his left and made a run for it. She was agile and swift as she darted through the people, and he silently willed her to make it unseen to the main exit where a large male he recognised as a fellow shifter was stumbling into the club, shaking his head as he tried to rid it of the lingering effect of whatever dart the hunters had used on him.

They should have plugged him with more than one.

The big bear roared as he tore off his t-shirt and Harbin cursed him as all the hunters swung towards him.

Two males spotted the female.

Harbin pushed off, unable to ignore the pressing need to protect her.

One of the hunters hit her with a dart in her right thigh. She stumbled, a high shriek leaving her lips, but kept running, limping towards the bear as he started to shift. The second hunter pursued her.

Harbin growled and hobbled faster, cursing himself now. He needed to shift, his cat form being his stronger one in this situation, but he couldn’t when his tibia was still healing. The shift would break the weakened bone, leaving him in a worse condition than he was now and making it impossible for him to fight.

The second male caught the female as she slowed, the drugs taking effect, and Harbin flinched as the hunter dealt a blow across the back of her head with his baton. She crumpled, hitting the floor in a tangled heap.

Pain pierced Harbin’s right arm and hip, but it felt like little more than a brief sting as memories surged in response to seeing the female go down.

They rolled through him, ripping an agonised howl from his throat as he stumbled forwards, blinded by the pain and the fury, filled with a hunger to destroy every Archangel hunter he could see.

This was his fault.

He had hunted down Archangel members, all of them too young to have had anything to do with the attack on his pride. He had needed the kill though. He had needed the serenity of shutting down his feelings and focusing on a mission. He hadn’t thought it would trigger an attack on the fae community, but it couldn’t be coincidence that Archangel had targeted the very club where he had been seen two nights in a row.

Someone had witnessed the attack and survived to tell the tale.

Archangel had come after him for retribution and now innocents were being dragged into a living Hell again because of him.

The male grabbed her by her arms and hauled her into them, slinging her over his shoulder.

Harbin growled weakly and kept pushing forwards through the emptying club.

Several of the hunters left, carrying unconscious fae in pairs. At the exit, three were attempting to handle the bear shifter. Five darts stuck out of his bare chest and a nervous hunter embedded a sixth before a braver one dared to approach the slumbering brute.

A sudden sinking sensation washed through Harbin as he realised that the hunters were leaving, taking his quarry with them. His stomach squirmed, his instincts telling him to flee while he had the chance, to save his skin and escape whatever nightmare awaited the poor bastards at the hands of the Archangel hunters.

He pinned his feet to the floor and scrubbed a hand across his blurry eyes, trying to see the female as his body battled the effects of the drugs.

She hung limp over the shoulder of the hunter, her head lolling around and arms swaying with each measured step he took.

It would be easy to turn away, to slink into the shadows and wait for the tranquilisers to wear off. His body was already purging them, too strong for the puny doses they had used on him.

He sighed.

Shook his head.

He couldn’t.

Not only because he had gotten her into this mess, but because he didn’t know which facility Archangel would take her to and he would lose her if he let the hunters take her now. He might never find her again and he had promised Hartt that he would carry out his part of the mission.

He had vowed that he would remain close to her until Hartt and Fuery came to finish the job with him.

He had to keep that promise if he was going to keep his reputation as one of the best assassins in the guild. He had never lost a mark, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Not even when it meant placing himself in the hands of the hunters he despised.

He scanned the room and spotted a lone male hunter at the back, struggling with a large unconscious male. His gut churned, every instinct he possessed screaming at him to run in the opposite direction. He couldn’t. He had to get caught too.

A small part of him, a piece of him that refused to die now, whispered that his reasons ran deeper than a need to keep tabs on his mark and fulfilling his part of the mission. He wanted to get caught so he could ensure that she was unharmed by Archangel. He didn’t want to let her be alone in that terrible place.

He needed to be there too.

Harbin roared and hurled himself at the young hunter. The male turned, wide brown eyes filled with panic, and swiftly raised his compact crossbow. Harbin saw the flash of the dart, felt the sting as it pierced his chest, and grunted as he stumbled a step. He pushed onwards, lumbering towards the male, desperate to force him into firing again. He needed the oblivion the tranquilisers offered. He would lose his mind if he had to do this capture and transport in a semi-drugged state. His memories would destroy what little sanity he had left.

A second hunter dropped his quarry and joined the first, lashing out with a baton.

Harbin staggered right as the blow connected with the left side of his head, pain ricocheting around his skull and turning the world hazy for a moment. He tried to retain his balance, his injured leg crumpled beneath him, and he hit the tacky club floor hard.

The two males closed in and every instinct he possessed commanded him to shift and fight. He shut his eyes and surrendered instead, allowing the hunters to crack their batons across his arms and head as he curled into a ball on his side. His snow leopard side pushed for freedom, writhing beneath his skin, wild with a need to attack and protect himself. It took every shred of his will to keep still and take the beating, to not retaliate and kill the males who were battering him.

He would find them and kill them, after he had fulfilled his mission.

His strength faded as the tranquilisers began to take hold, numbing him but not quickly enough to stop the need to escape the hunters and their vile clutches, and the thought of waking to find himself at the mercy of Archangel from driving him mad.

Shattered memory fragments bombarded him, filling his mind with a broken replay of blood on snow, crimson drenching white, and the black blur of the hunters who had attacked his kin. He saw their faces, heard their last gasps as he choked the life from them, staring into their eyes so he was the last thing they saw.

He saw her.

The blonde Archangel huntress mocked him with the pretty smile that had addled his lust-fogged alcohol-impaired brain, luring him under her spell in the small bar in the town nearest to the mountain where his pride had lived in safety for centuries.

A peace he had shattered because he had been too full of himself, as headstrong and hot-blooded as his father had always told him he was. He had been too blinded by lust to see the warning signs, had been too tempted by the sinful beauty and the thought of satisfying his carnal hungers.

His pain dulled as he slipped into a daze, the tranquiliser dose not enough to knock him out, leaving him at the mercy of his memories. They ran on a constant twisted replay, tormenting him, driving him insane with a need to hunt and kill, a hunger that he was powerless to satisfy in his drugged state. He weakly banged his head against the hard floor, seeking oblivion in order to escape his past, but he didn’t have the strength to knock himself out.

He was vaguely aware of the hunters as they dragged him from the room, and the faint smell of gasoline as they loaded him into a truck. Lucidity came and went, giving him brief glimpses of holding cells in a darkened space, each filled with an unconscious fae or demon, before the past came rushing back to swallow him.

Each time it hit him, it drove him back under the violent tide of his memories. They battered him, turning him inside out with emotions that were still raw, his pain and fury yet to fade. He tried to growl whenever the blonde huntress flashed across his mind, tried to change the course of events whenever he saw her leaning in to kiss him, her emerald eyes glittering with desire, but no sound left his lips and nothing he did could alter the past.

The truck shifted, jostling him so he rolled against the cold metal bars of his cell. The feel of them pressing against his back and the thought of where he was heading combined to overpower him. Fear closed in despite his years of training and honing his abilities as an assassin, the emotion too strong to deny as it swept through him, swamping his mind and flooding it with images of what might await him and the other unlucky bastards in the truck with him when they reached the facility.

He tried to move, his instincts screaming at him to break free, to not allow Archangel to take him into a facility where he would be tortured and would possibly die. He hadn’t survived this long, hadn’t borne the pain for twenty agonising years for it to end here at their hands.

He wouldn’t let them win.

He snarled and shuffled, managed to get his hands beneath him and convince his body to obey his foggy mind, but he didn’t have the strength to push himself off the grotty floor. His arms gave out beneath him, his left shoulder hitting the floor hard enough to rip a pained yelp from his lips.

A hunter near the back muttered something and cautiously stalked forwards, heading in his direction.

He attempted to feign unconsciousness, but the pain in his shoulder was too intense, the fresh metallic tang of blood permeating the air telling him he had torn the wound open again. He gritted his teeth against it, his jaw muscles flexed, and the next thing he knew was a sharp sting in the right side of his chest as a dart impacted. Strange cold stole through him, numbing as it crept outwards from the impact point.

Darkness claimed him.

A brief, sweet moment of oblivion.

Followed by a rude blast of cold water.

Harbin snarled and tried to back away from the powerful jet, but a wall blocked his escape. He barked out his pain as the icy water thundered against his injured shoulder and then coughed as it struck his face, getting in his mouth and up his nose. He flinched away from it, curling against the wall, but it didn’t stop his assailants. They kept up with their torment, hosing him down where he sat on the frigid tiles of what seemed to be a bright room.

As they ran the hose down his body, he barked again, fire and lightning rocketing up his leg bones as the jet reached his ankle. He growled a curse and swung his gaze towards them, narrowing his silver eyes on them as he breathed hard, struggling against his need to leap to his feet and rip them to shreds.

The two young male hunters lost their smiles, their dark eyes turning wary as they backed off in unison.

Without a word, the one with the hose switched it off and made a swift exit, followed by his companion.

Harbin panted through the pain and gritted his teeth as he looked down at his left leg. The bastards had removed his cast, exposing the deep bruises that marked his skin and leaving him in danger of re-breaking his tibia if he put too much weight on it. He wouldn’t be fighting them any time soon, that was for sure. He needed a few more days before he could risk more than hobbling.

He huffed.

The bastards knew what they were doing. They knew what he was.

Who he was.

Not only had they taken his cast, which he would have easily stripped back to its base parts to get his hands on the metal rods to use them as makeshift batons, but they had taken his clothes.

They had removed everything he might have used as a weapon against them.

He flexed his fingers and smiled coldly as his claws extended.

Everything except his built-in arsenal anyway.

A shadow flickered out of the corner of his eye and he lowered his hands and looked towards the only exit in the white room.

A larger male blocked the door, his rugged face set in grim lines that Harbin felt matched his own expression. They had sent an assassin to deal with him, one of their finest no doubt. Only the best for him.

He bared his fangs at the male.

The bastard simply raised the dart gun in his hand and squeezed the trigger.

Four times.


Leave a comment to be entered to win your choice of an ecopy of any installment in the Eternal Mates series, except Marked by an Assassin (open internationally).

Find all the links, a fantastic 4 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also how to enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/marked-by-an-assassin-paranormal-romance-novel.php


Books in the Eternal Mates paranormal romance series:
Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior – coming soon!


About Felicity Heaton:
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
Website     |     Blog     |     Facebook
Twitter     |     Tsu     |     Goodreads

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Her Avenging Angel Blog Barrage

Once a proud angel of Heaven, Nevar is now a servant of Hell, bound to a new master—the King of Demons. Consumed by darkness and driven to seek revenge, he set in motion a series of events that awakened the Great Destroyer, a force that will bring about the apocalypse. Now, he is the creature’s master and the fate of our world rests in the hands of an angel with only darkness in his heart.

Lost in the mortal realm without any recollection of how she came to be there, Lysia is only aware that she has survived a great battle. When she stumbles into a demon bar, she finds more than a chance to discover what happened to her—she finds a dark and deadly angel warrior who stirs fire in her veins and awakens soul-searing passion she cannot deny.

With the mounting threat of the Great Destroyer, the forces of Heaven and Hell against him, and a band of dangerous angels intent on capturing Lysia on his heels, can Nevar protect the beautiful woman who is light to his darkness and find the strength to save the world?

Her Avenging Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php


Excerpt:
It was cold. Dark. She ached, a thousand lacerations and bruises burning on her tired limbs, the result of the battle she had survived.

Noise blurred around her, loud and piercing, a din of unfamiliar sounds.

It drove her to move.

She was vulnerable here, out in the open. Exposed.

Her stomach growled.

Hungry.

Lysia shoved her bloodstained hands against the green earth and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Verdant nature closed in on her from all sides, and beyond it pricks of bright yellow lights. Where was she?

She tried to remember how she had come to this place.

Sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes and she screwed them shut, unable to bite back the whimper that slipped from her lips. The fierce fiery ache subsided and fragments of memories of the battle took its place, speeding through her mind, distorted and bringing their own form of pain as her head throbbed and her body throbbed with it. Each blow she recalled echoed on her body, pain that burned in her limbs and seared every healing gash anew.

She forced her eyes back open and scanned the area around her, focusing on it to push the memories to the back of her mind. No sign of the battle she had taken part in. It hadn’t happened here.

Lysia thought back to it again and pain blazed through her bones, setting them on fire, and she cried out as it seared her mind. She collapsed against the grass, breathing hard, each inhale filling her senses with the smell of it and the sweet coolness of the dew that clung to each blade.

The memories ended with the darkness of sleep.

She could only surmise that she had stumbled here from the battlefield and had passed out.

Lysia pushed herself up again and studied her surroundings. They were unfamiliar, noisy and strange. She could see great stone buildings beyond the trees and odd colourful growling creatures that roamed beyond the boundaries of the patch of nature. Their bright eyes swung her way at times and she shrank back, her heart pounding, fearing they would come for her while she was weak.

She needed a haven. Somewhere warm that would provide her with sustenance so she could restore her strength.

She stumbled onto her feet and closed her eyes, tipping her head back and her face to the inky sky.

Deep within her, she felt a familiar stirring. Demons were nearby. She would be safe with them.

She followed the sensation, using it to lead her to them. When she reached the edge of the trees, she hovered in the shadows, watching the growling boxy beasts as they rumbled past, seemingly patrolling the area but not acknowledging each other. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice her.

There were a few mortals on the path ahead of her, between one set of the great buildings.

She was in their world.

She waited for them to disappear from view before scurrying across the black smooth rock surface to one of the buildings. From there, she stayed close to it, hurrying along the paved path, tracking the demons. She was closing in.

The sensation led her down narrower paths into darker areas, and she slowed her pace, sensing mortals ahead of her. Where the demons were.

Why were the demons with mortals? Were they feeding?

Her stomach growled again, the noise loud in the quieter air.

In the distance, she could hear the distinct chatter of voices, and a heavy tribal beat. A gathering?

Perhaps there was a sort of feast happening.

Her stomach made a stretched out series of gurgles, whistles and peeps at that. She rubbed it and hurried forwards, stopping only when she came upon the mortals. She lingered in the shadows of a building, hidden behind the corner of it, and peeked around to view the feast and gauge whether it was safe.

A string of mortals were lined up against a wall, a large demon ushering them one by one into the building. He eyed them all closely and turned some away. Was he in charge of picking the best from the worst? He flashed a toothy grin at two females and raked dark eyes over them as they entered.

Lysia had the impression he had earmarked them for himself.

A bright colourful sign hung on the wall above the door, the language unfamiliar.

She studied it until her eyes hurt and the words were burned onto her retinas, trying to make sense of it, and then shrugged. It didn’t matter. She would enter this place and there she would find sustenance. She needed to be inside, out of the cold and safe. She would be safe inside. She felt sure of it.

Lysia scurried across the flat cool expanse of stone to the door. The big demon looked her way and his eyes widened.

She smiled and he staggered backwards, his eyes dropping to her body and widening further. Pleased that he was allowing her entrance, she hurried inside and immediately clapped her hands over her ears. The noise she had heard from outside was even louder inside, pounding at an ear-splitting volume. She growled beneath her breath and searched for food.

And paused.

The demons in their human forms were not eating the mortals.

This was not a feast.

Many of the demons were occupied in dancing with the mortals, grinding against them and almost fornicating in front of everyone.

She hovered by the entrance, unsure whether to enter or leave. Her stomach gurgled again, making her decision for her. She had to stay. There were colourful glass bottles lining the wall to her right and demons there were serving drinks to people who lined a long black bar. If they had mead and other liquids then perhaps they had food for her.

She moved deeper into the room and everyone turned to stare at her, their eyes wide. She frowned at them all. Why did they stare? She thought them all strange but she wasn’t being rude by staring at them. If she hadn’t been so hungry, she would have asked them, or forced them to tell her the reason.

She pushed through a group of male demons, all of which were wearing their human forms, and they turned on her. Their growls died as their eyes fell on her and they parted, staring as she passed.

Lysia leaned against the tacky black bar top.

A man walked over to her, tossed a rag over his shoulder, and smiled.

“What’ll it be?”

“I require sustenance.”

He frowned, a puzzled edge to his dark eyes, and shook his head.

Lysia tried again. “I must eat.”

He waved his right hand and another man joined him, a blond with pale eyes.

“Problem?” the blond said.

“Not getting this one,” the brunet responded.

The blond raked his eyes over her, his right brow quirking. “Taking things a bit far, aren’t we? You want something?”

She nodded. “I need sustenance.”

He looked at his friend and shrugged. “I don’t understand her.”

What was there to understand? She only wanted food.

Blood.

The two men walked away, serving others who seemed to have no problem ordering what they desired and receiving it. She cursed them and everyone who communicated with them with ease. While she could understand many languages, she could write and speak only one. Without being able to speak to the serving staff, she had no chance of getting blood.

A woman beside her cast a glance her way, looked down at herself, and slipped off her seat and walked away, disappearing into the heavy crowd.

Lysia sighed, perched herself on the seat, and leaned on the bar with her forehead resting on her arms. She was warmer inside this noisy inn but still hungry, and still tired. She needed to feed. How?

A male stopped to her left.

She turned her head towards him and ran her eyes up from the waist of his impeccable crisp black suit to his shoulders and then his face. Vampire. She knew his kind and could see through his façade to the wretched monster beneath. He smiled, his fangs on show to her and his pale blue eyes swirling with ill intentions.

“Having trouble?” The dark-haired vampire leaned his left elbow on the bar beside her and she sat up.

She nodded. “I need to order blood.”

He frowned at her and her heart sank. He didn’t understand her either.

“What language is that? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it. Can you mime what you want?” He shifted closer and she focused hard on every word he said, listening closely so she could grasp the words he used and use them too.

He smiled a little wider, and shifted a little closer. His gaze drifted down to her chest and back up again.

“Mime?” He made a show of using his hands to make shapes.

She was about to do as he asked when he danced his fingers over her left shoulder.

A cold shiver ran over her flesh and skated down her spine.

Lysia flicked her right wrist and hurled him across the room, scattering the crowd and ripping a few shocked gasps from them.

A male further along the bar looked her way.

She froze as her eyes met his, heat pulsing through her, a visceral throb that reached right down to her bones.

The male was handsome, but darkness clung to him, danger that called to her and lured her to him. There was evil in him.

He would know her tongue.

He raised a glass filled with green liquid and tipped his head, causing threads of his silver-white hair to fall and brush his brow. He swept them back and she caught a brief glimpse of tiny horns above his ears. Her belly flipped and heated.

“Kudos for giving Villandry hell,” he said above the thumping music, his deep rumbling voice doing funny things to her insides and turning her knees to rubber.

She presumed Villandry was the name of the vampire now picking himself up off the floor across the busy room. She wasn’t sure what kudos meant though.

Lysia swallowed her trembling heart, slipped off her seat and approached the pale-haired male with all the confidence she could muster when he was staring at her, his jade eyes burning into her body and setting her aflame.

Rousing strange feelings within her.

She halted beside him.

He swivelled to face her, set his drink down on the bar but kept his left hand on the stem of the elegant glass, and raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you naked?”


To celebrate the release of Her Avenging Angel, Felicity’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website. Find out how to enter the Her Avenging Angel international giveaway (ends October 26th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website, where you can also download a 6 chapter sample of the novel: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php

Plus, for a second giveaway, enter the Rafflecopter for your chance to win an ecopy of one of Felicity's Her Angel books.



 Follow the other stops on the tour here


About Felicity Heaton:
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Her Angel series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

Website     |     Blog     |     Facebook     |     Twitter     |     Goodreads


Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:
Book 1: Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers