Not An Angel
By
Dawn Chartier
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
NOT AN ANGEL
Copyright © 2011 by Dawn Chartier
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Visit for more information: www.dawnchartier.com
Publishing History
Bayou Black, Second Edition, 2011
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my beloved husband, daughters, family and friends. To everyone who offered me advice, including the FF&P & Sola Critique Groups. Especially, to my mother for her strong will, and my dad for taking such good care of her. I miss you, Mom.
Praise for Not an Angel
A dramatic, suspenseful read by a rising new star of paranormal romance. A beautiful, vulnerable heroine with spirit, an immortal warrior hero who is more than he seems, and plenty of surprises along the way! Enjoy!
~ Renee Wildes, Author of "Marek's New World", part of the Got Wolf "Taming of the Wolf" Anthology available now from TWRP
Not An Angel is an emotionally intense, heart-wrenching paranormal romance that I couldn’t put down!
~ Dawn McClure, Author of "Samael".
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Prologue
Death was her only savior.
Jump. Do it. End the pain.
The cold steel seared the front of Kira’s thighs. She leaned outward, tightening her grip on the rail. Her heart pounding.
Painkillers blurred her mind.
There had to be another way, though she knew there wasn’t.
She braced her legs along the bone-chilling ledge. This high up, she couldn’t see the river’s tortuous currents, seventy feet below. A blessing in disguise.
Wind and rain blasted against her, burning her face. Turning each strand of hair into a whip. Punishment from above for her sinful thoughts. She shook her head, trying to see a way out.
She held tighter and shut her eyes, wishing she’d taken more Percocet. Five more. Ten more. A hundred. Anything to stop the memories.
The wind’s taunting fury lured her forward. She knew what it would take to make it all go away.
She had to leap.
Her heart raced. The jump was high, and she couldn’t swim. There was no chance of survival. She hoped shock would take her first. Hoped it would be painless and fast.
Kira climbed over the rail and closed her eyes. Her hair whipped sticking to her wind-burned lips.
She cringed as pain arced through her body, piercing her heart like a knife. Bittersweet images of her husband and baby girl played before her eyes. Steve held Bre high above his head, cooing with her. Give Daddy a smile. C’mon, just one little smile. He blew a raspberry on her small tummy. The gold ringlets in her hair bounced as he lifted her higher. A full-faced grin spread across her lips as drool streamed down onto his surprised face.
Kira stumbled, nearly falling, her heart ripping in two. Her hand reached out to touch one of those beautiful blond ringlets. To stroke the silky strands one last time.
“I’m so sorry, Bre.” Tears slid down her face onto her lips.
Without Bre, she had no life. The motherly duties she cherished were over.
Bre was gone.
For a fleeting second the thought this is wrong slipped through her mind, but then her heart grew cold, and her mind numb.
No reason to stay behind.
The wind roared, and the beat of the thunder pulsed through her veins, pushing her with its rhythm. The tone urgent. Demanding.
Do it. Let go. End it.
And then, the melody changed. Kira could finally hear what she had been waiting for all along.
“Mommy, mommy. I need you.”
She smiled. One last tear slipped down her cheek and Kira released her hold on the steel–and on her life.
Chapter 1
“What the hell?” Trace slammed on the brakes of his Yukon. The vehicle skidded on wet gravel and came to a grinding halt. He peered through the rain at a woman standing on the thin metal ledge of the bridge. “Shit.”
The wind whisked her hair, and the slight figure struggled for footing on the narrow ledge. One hand reached out as if to take another.
Trace and his brother, Mikal bounded out of the vehicle. Even with the speed of his enhanced race he reached her a second too late. She had already fallen.
Trace glanced at Mike. His mouth hung open as he stared at the river below. Trace turned back to him.
Mike read his mind. “No. Don’t do it.”
“I have to.” Irritated and concerned, he leaned over the bridge railing, searching the deep water below, gauging distances and danger.
“Look Trace, you’ve been through enough lately. Call 911 and let’s get the hell out of here.” Mike slapped his shoulder and strode back to the Yukon.
Yeah, he had been through enough, but maybe he could save this person’s life. This time he would succeed. “You call. I’ll find her.”
He shut his eyes to the driving rain, and an angry breath escaped his lips. The unwanted memories of Jessica’s suicide flooded his mind, drowned him in guilt. Filling every cell in his body with fury. He tried to block the flow of painful images of her pale, dead body in the tub, but he couldn’t. He forced it out. He had to.
No. He wouldn’t give up. A human had jumped off the damn bridge, and he would find whoever it was.
Trace growled in frustration and sprinted to the west end of the bridge. A small blue Honda stuck out from the bushes. He pressed his hands to his temples trying to sense her whereabouts. His visions blurred.
“Mike.” He rushed down the side of the embankment, slipping several times in the mud and rocks. He ignored the blood trickling down his hand. It would heal in minutes. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his clean hand, then spotted his brother following.
Aggravation set in Mike’s glare as he passed the Honda. Mike had to know that his desperation wasn’t only to save the jumper. It was an attempt to make up for allowing someone else to die because of him.
Trace pointed. “Check the other side of the bridge, farther down. The currents have probably pulled her fast.” He knew his brother heard him, even over the hammering of the thunder and raging river.
Mike appeared on the other side while Trace sped down the embankment, following the current, hunting for any sign of life. His wet jeans stuck to his legs, and his shirt shrunk tight against his chest. Suffocating, trapping him. He blew drops of water from his lips and wiped his hands across his eyes.
No one would die here tonight.
Trace probed the area with his mind. All was quiet.
“There!” Mike yelled and pointed about twenty feet into the river. Trace penetrated Mike’s mind using telepathy, and saw
through his vision. His heart stopped. The currents pulled her away. He paced back and forth on the rocks. He shouldn’t do this. The fight in his head split his skull into shreds.
Trace roared and then propelled himself into the river. His body trembled in shock, adjusting to the brutal cold. The silence assaulted his ears. His sight blurred as he soared through the darkness faster than any human. He pivoted left and right, searching. He swallowed foul water as it forged through his burning nose. The deeper he went caused his ears to ring with pressure.
Grateful for his Poryria traits, he pushed even deeper. Using his exceptional vision, he found the body. He touched cloth, pulled and tucked the small soft frame under his arm.
In seconds, he lifted her limp form to the shore then carefully laid her down on the rocky embankment. He pushed aside wet dark hair from her face and shock stripped his breath.
“Shit.” He stared, astonished. The woman’s face resembled Jessica’s. He knew it wasn’t her. Jessie was dead. His throat burned as though he’d swallowed boiling water. He had to get Jessie out of his head. Now.
He touched her pale face. Her lips were blue. She wasn’t breathing. Focus, damn it! He placed his fingers underneath her neck, checked inside her mouth, and then forced air into her lungs.
Mike knelt beside him, and they began a rhythm of pumping her chest, and breathing life into her. “What is wrong with these stupid humans?” Mike asked between pumps. “They take life for granted.”
Mike shot him a look, must have caught the anguish written on his face. Mike studied the woman. “Oh hell, Trace. It’s not her. Don’t even think it.”
His voice broke. “I know. I know.” He did know, but the knife shredding his heart didn’t. Still, he couldn’t help but stare at the remarkable resemblance. The beautiful dark hair and pixie like features, so similar to Jessie’s.
Trace pushed harder on her chest. “C’mon. Breathe, damn it.”
Why did she jump? Was she running from something? What problem could be bad enough to make her choose this? An abusive husband? Financial problems? An obsessive lover?
No. If he had to live, so did she.
The woman choked, and water spurted from her nose and mouth. He rolled her to her side, holding her there until she purged the river from her lungs. Slowly he laid her on her back. He sank on his heels and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Pent-up guilt tried to burst free. His hands fisted, his body shook, and he released a thunderous yell that echoed, penetrated through the river and the darkness. Her movement brought him back.
Her eyes fluttered and she fixed her gaze briefly on him. “An angel,” she whispered.
Under different circumstances he would have laughed. “Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. An angel he was not. He brushed a strand of brown hair from the side of her face.
His brother shot him a look of disgust. “She thinks you’re an angel? Life is full of disappointments, isn’t it?”
True. Especially, when it came to him.
Why hadn’t he listened to his brother? Mark this down as another life he’d probably screwed up. He was getting really good at it.
He watched the woman’s blue-green eyes close as unconsciousness tugged her under.
Mike stood. “We need to get out of here.”
Trace lifted the woman off the ground with ease and walked toward the bridge. “She needs a hospital.”
“Oh man. No way. We cannot show our face in there again.” Mike walked to the front passenger side of the car. “Drive me home. I need a drink.”
Trace glared at his brother’s back. “Asshole. She’s in shock. We have to get her help.” Even though Trace sensed she wasn’t seriously injured, a few broken ribs, maybe, he couldn’t leave her there alone. She needed help he couldn’t provide.
“Open her door for me, will you?” Trace surveyed the woman again. He wasn’t sure how, but she was a survivor. There had to be a good reason she still lived, and it wasn’t anything he’d done other than pull her out of the water and give CPR. He wanted to know why and how she still lived after such a fall. She had to be special. Maybe needed for some greater good.
Unlike him, she’d have a second chance. He’d make sure she used it wisely, although he wasn’t sure why he even cared. He placed her in the back seat of the Honda. “Did you call 911?”
“No,” Mike answered.
Trace grunted. “Can you sit with her then?” He needed his cell phone from the SUV.
“Are you serious? I don’t sit with humans.” He snorted.
“Little brother, have you forgotten something?”
Mike glanced around. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Get your ass in this car before I beat the crap out of you.”
Mike had the woman’s head in his lap before Trace could blink. “Damn.” He held his hands in the air and raised his lip in disgust. “Better?”
“Yes. But keep your appetite in check. I didn’t go swimming in the river for you to eat her as a snack.” He knew his brother wouldn’t dare eat a human, but he wanted Mike to think he was joking. He didn’t want him to know how shaken-up he truly was.
“Man, you’ve gotten weak in your old age,” Mike teased. “You once thought it was fun hunting these irritating mortals.”
His brother was right. It hadn’t been so long ago when he sought after humans. Well, the bad ones at least. He’d drain them half dry and let them suffer for what they’d done to the innocents.
He’d like to think he’d learned a thing or two since then.
A soft brush like the tickle of feathers penetrated his mind. Mike searched his thoughts to see if he was really okay. Trace shielded his mind, not allowing Mike to see everything. A trait he’d perfected over the course of time.
Mike was younger, four inches taller, and about fifty pounds heavier. But his looks deceived despite his unusual size. Mike had not fully changed, and most of his gifts–or curses–were still dormant. He was still learning the ropes, though his powerfully built stature and slight mind reading abilities begged to differ. His brother observed him. “You all right?”
The picture of Mike stuffed in the back seat of the Honda would be comical under different circumstances. The ache to laugh hurt. To feel something other than pain would be God sent.
Trace shook his head, glad he hadn’t turned into a gladiator type like his brother. Although large by human standards, he was not by his kind. He liked the fact that he could fit into the human world better than most of his brothers. Easier to hunt that way. His traits were more powerful than most. Mike thrived on being massive and enjoyed fighting even more. Trace knew the kind of attention Mike’s body would attract. Conflict – and plenty of it.
“Yeah, well, we don’t have time for hunting humans anymore.” He shifted, casting a glance at the woman’s petite frame. His fingers brushed her delicate neck. Taking in her sweet scent, he still fought the thirsty beast inside, but the urge was not like it used to be.
Trace turned his attention to the sound of racing currents, and the smell of the muddy river relieved his ache. “Besides, you know the Vrykolakas have been pretty active lately. Humans don’t interest me.” His words did not match his thoughts. He’d go to the hospital tonight.
His brother stifled a laugh. “And who are you trying to fool? Me or you?”
Chapter 2
Sirens blared in the distance. Kira moaned, fought her way to the surface. Her lungs and throat burned. She shivered and bile threatened to escape. A bright light stabbed one eye, then the other.
“Ma’am. Can you hear me?”
Kira rolled her head back and forth. Words wouldn’t come. Where am I? What’s happening?
“You’re going to be okay. You’re at Louisiana Meadowview Hospital. Stay with me. Ma’am, stay with me.”
The more the voices spoke the further away she drifted.
A sharp jerk woke her. Her body pulled in different directions. Underneath her lids, she saw light, then nothing, then
light again. In a tunnel, on a roller coaster, cruising with quick turns. Darkness. Brightness. The motions repeated over and over until she came to an abrupt stop. There was a sense of being lifted into the air, and placed on another carnival ride. She couldn’t do this again. She wanted to get off, but the pounding in her temples forced her back into the dark pit.
**********
Wispy clouds surrounded Kira. She lifted a barely visible hand near her face, waving to herself. A slight wind brushed her hair across her cheek, and the fog cleared partially. When she noticed sheer sleeves hung loosely around her wrist, she glanced down, surprised to see a silk and lace ivory gown snug across her breasts and flowing elegantly from her waist. She ran her hands across the length, absorbing the softness. Is this a dream? Then the thought of being dead flittered across her mind like leaves falling from a tree.
Dead.
Flashes of the bridge raced across her thoughts. A man leaning over her with the darkest blue eyes she’d ever seen. A face of an angel. The face of her angel.
Whatever this place was, it appeared dream like. She turned as footsteps caught her attention.
She narrowed her eyes trying to focus through the haze. A figure slowly emerged through the lifting fog. A man’s form began to take shape.
He stopped two feet from her. Wearing black pants and a light blue collared shirt tucked in at the waist; the sleeves up to his elbows. Even before she saw the dark hair and familiar eyes, she knew it was him. However, she hadn’t pictured him dressed this way.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice was soothing, relaxing. She immediately felt at ease around him. Deep and rich. An accent she couldn’t quite place. To her amazement, she felt comfortable.
“You have?”
The haze lifted fully, and she was able to see him clearer. His profile stood lean and long, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. An elegant angular face with a straight perfect nose. His dark, wavy hair partly spilled over his collar. She ached to reach out and flip the rest from hiding. Barely noticeable, a small scar ran through his left eyebrow. He smiled. Oh boy. Perfect. He’d caught her sizing him up.
Not An Angel (A Poryria Vampire Novel (Book 1)) Page 1
