by Liz Gavin
“We need to talk, Rowen. Why are you so sad, my love?”
“I long for your touch, Caddaric, when we are apart. The months drag by and I count the seconds until the next Samhain or Beltane, when we can really be together, not like this, in my dreams. Then the day passes too quickly. I wish we could be together forever.”
I can’t hold back the single tear that rolls down my face although I do not fuss about it. He kisses the tear, cups my chin and tilts my head up to face him.
“Don’t say that, my love. You know very well we’d only be together if you died. You have many things to do before returning to Avalon, to the spiritual world. A lot depends on that, too. You shall not forsake your duties. You have studied and prepared yourself so hard when you were here to be able to fulfill your obligations once you reincarnated. We both knew it would be difficult to be apart like this but we’ve accepted the task. You cannot balk now.”
“I know it all, Caddaric. But still I am confused, alone and afraid. Others have tried before us and failed terribly. They were powerful druids who could not prevent the spiritual world of Avalon drifting away from the material realm. Why did I believe we could?”
“Because the Goddess believes in you. I’m only guiding and protecting you, remember? Besides, the Lady of the Lake trained you herself and is supervising our mission. And you know you have been doing an excellent job.”
“Yes, but still the people are abandoning the Old Ways in favor of the Roman God. Their priests are everywhere. They’ve even gotten to Iona. I’m guessing it’s a matter of time until they come to Tìr Iodh as well and start trying to convince our people the Great Goddess is an ancient superstition. You know the less people there are following the Old Faith, the greater is the gap between our worlds.”
“I know, Rowen. That’s why your mission is so important. Nowadays, we are able to cross the threshold to the world of the living only on Beltane and Samhain. It is not enough. We want to help people, guide them whenever they need but it’s getting harder and harder to do that.”
I hold him closer and rest my face on his chest. His strength has always restored my energy and faith. I need it more than ever.
“Just let me be like this, in your arms, for a while longer. You give me peace and I need a lot of it now.”
He frames my face in his gentle, soft hands and kisses me long and sweetly. I lose track of time as I bask in his love. He plays with my mouth, his tongue runs over my lips as his thumbs caress my cheeks. When he pulls back to lean his forehead against mine, we are both short of breath. He moves his hands slowly from my shoulders to my waist and rests them on my backside, pulling me closer. I laugh at him and raise my mouth to kiss him again but Caddaric smiles and starts speaking before I finish my gesture.
“There’s more troubling you, little one. Do you think I don’t know about Eochaid?”
My face turns a deep shape of red and I drop my head to avoid his piercing green eyes. But he won’t have any of that. He leans his head and lifts my chin until our eyes meet again, his eyebrows are raised and I feel he’s suppressing his laughter. That ignites my temper.
“Don’t you dare mock me, Caddaric Seagha. I won’t have it.”
“I’m not mocking you. I think it’s lovely the way you blush. You didn’t think you’d go through this lifetime alone, did you?”
“I don’t want anyone but you, my love.”
“It’s not right and it’s not natural. The Goddess wants us to live life to the fullest and that includes love and sex. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Rowen. The Great Mother symbolizes life, so lovemaking is a way to worship Her, too.”
“But we can have all that. We love each other and on the festivities, when you come visit me, we can make love.” I feel my face is burning more than it was before. He kisses each of my cheeks before replying.
“That’s not living to the fullest and you know it. I can’t give you children, for one thing, and I only exist in the material world temporarily, on such occasions. I don’t belong there, you do, for now. You knew that before you accepted to be born again and you can’t deny it now.”
“I’m not denying anything. It’ just that I love you and I don’t want to betray you.”
“You’re not betraying me, sweet Rowen, if I agreed to all this, are you? I want to see you happy because I love you beyond measure and if your happiness, in this lifetime, lies in the hands of Eochaid, I will never stand in your way. Not even as a shadow in the back of your mind because that’s what I am. Please, my love, you have to let go of me.”
“I can’t forget you, Caddaric. Don’t ask me to do that,” I have burrowed my face into his chest and I’m sobbing now and holding him tight.
“I’m not asking you to do that because I wouldn’t stand it. I’m asking you to give him a chance to show you his intentions and to show you who he really is. He is a good man, from an old family and with many ties to Avalon, too. You don’t remember him now, but it’s not the first time your paths have crossed. You and Eochaid have met in past lives just like we have. He’s lived many lifetimes and learned many things. He hasn’t always been a warrior, you know.”
“I don’t want to talk about hom now. We have so little time together, soon I’ll wake up back in the material realm and you’ll be here in Avalon. I want to cherish every second we have.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it when you wake, though.”
“I promise. Happy?”
“Very,” he laughs and rubs his nose against mine exactly like he used to do when he was alive, in another lifetime.
“So kiss me.”
Caddaric does as I ask. We lie down on the sunny grass; he opens my robe, his eyes shine in the magical light of Avalon as he leans down to kiss my breasts. We make love without hurry, rediscovering each other, until the morning comes in the material world and it’s time for me to go back to my body lying on my bed.
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Fallen Angel
Angela Hewson is a gorgeous, wealthy young woman of Irish-Italian descent. Her mother comes from an old, traditional Italian family. Her father is an idealist who wants to save the world. She rebelled against her politically correct parents because they didn’t understand her hunger for adventure and pleasure. She searched everywhere until she found her match in Greg.
Greg is older than time itself because he’s immortal. He has seen things people wouldn’t believe. He has done things people wouldn’t want to know. He’s sinfully attractive. He’s a tall, mysterious fallen angel. As such, he looks for the very best in life. He knows how to have a good time. He excels in the pleasures of the flesh. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And he wants Angela.
This is a teaser of Liz Gavin’s next novel - a tale of darkness, desire and deceit. Can a human resist a devious angel? Would a pleasure-seeking woman say no to temptation?
Fallen Angel
Chapter 1
Liz Gavin
Copyright 2014 by Liz Gavin
Published by Elessar Books
Watchers
They are the Watchers. They have been Watchers since before the dawn of time.
“What is it that they watch?” one might ask.
They watch Mankind. In the beginning, they were Angels. They were the Chosen Ones. Then, God gave them Free Will, which they used to rebel against Him. That was why they became Fallen Angels.
Meet Greg – short for Gregory or Grigori, as the Greeks called the Fallen ones. While the Ancient Greeks called them ‘angels’ many others called them ‘demons’. In fact, it all boiled down to who was telling the story. Today, Greg will tell you the story so let’s just say he is an angel. He is an angel with pretty impressive connections, as well. Some of his closest buddies are Kesabel, the Second Angel; Gadrel, the Third Angel, and Kasyade, the Fifth Angel. You will get to know all of them better in due time, let’s not get ahead of ourselve
s.
Well, where was I? Oh, yeah! I was introducing you to Greg. He is a Watcher who has been around for longer than anybody can remember. Longer than even he can remember. After a couple of millennia, time becomes irrelevant.
After all, time is just a convention that Humans seem to treasure so much. People like to count time and discuss it. They create schools of thought about it. They despair over it. They live and die pursuing it. They write prose, poetry and music about it. They talk about the past, the present and the future but these concepts mean very little to immortal beings like Greg.
For some reason, this seasoned and hardened immortal being is desperate. It seems he is running out of time. But how could that be?
Chapter 1
I’m Gregory – no last name. I’m a Watcher. I’m Immortal.
But since humans love so much to discuss events in the context of time; let me just tell you that I have seen things you, people, would never believe. I’ve contemplated worlds being born and planets dying. I’ve followed civilizations from their cradle to their zenith. Then, I’ve witnessed their fall. I’ve seen all that first hand. Most of the time, I was an active, if not willing, participant in their demise.
It stands to reason that the lives of mere mortals should not hold any special interest to me. Right? Wrong. Oh, that is so wrong. Mortals fascinate me. Sometimes, they attract me because of their quirky behavior. Their psychology intrigues me because I can’t relate to them, therefore, it is very hard for me to understand many of their actions. Their reasoning and motivations are beyond my grasp. Most often than not, I think they are utterly illogical. All these characteristics make for a big part of their fascination, in my opinion, anyway.
Over the millennia, I’ve watched over countless people. I’ve witnessed the genius as well as the mediocrity. I’ve heard brilliant speeches and the stupidest ideas. I’ve observed bravery side by side with the vilest acts. I’ve seen it all - war, hope, disease, charity, murder, faith, greed, happiness. I’ve watched despair, kindness, poverty, innocence, villainy, beauty. There is nothing I haven’t seen. Or so I thought. I recently discovered I was deadly wrong to believe that.
Mortals think immortality is something wonderful, magical, even. They think it is something everybody wants. Some people would willingly give their souls up in exchange for immortality. Only humans would think like because they’re mortals. Ask me and you’ll get a very different answer. Maybe other immortal beings enjoy perks that Watchers do not. People hear about them and probably think we are all the same. Let me clarify things for you, then.
Watchers do not have any magical nor supernatural powers. We observe people but we cannot interfere directly. We have a wealth of knowledge, which we cannot share because people don’t listen to us anymore. We are everywhere, all the time, yet very few people can see us or even sense us. We live forever but we live alone. We look but may not touch. When we touch, most of the times, people don’t feel our touch. We do not have feelings. At least, not noble ones. We have sensations, though. We do not love. Most of us, most of the time don’t, anyway.
It’s said that our downfall came about when we were granted free will. Well, that was only the beginning of the story, really. When we got our freedom to choose our own paths, some of us chose learning. Knowledge can be a very dangerous thing. Some of the things those angels learned got to their heads. They decided they should rule the Universe and have Mankind worship them like gods. That was their pride talking, though.
In order to be adored, they taught human beings about a lot of things: astrology, writing, the use of cosmetics, lust, death and after life, among other things. That got all of us, Watchers, to be cast off from Heaven. That was nothing compared to the mess I’ve gotten myself into in my present situation. Don’t worry, you’ll get to understand it better later.
As observers, we are assigned to specific human beings to watch over them. But we are no Guardian Angels. Remember the Downfall? Remember we became outsiders? Therefore, do not confuse us with that all-graceful, white-robed, halo-carrying, harp-playing kind of angels. Watchers are heavy metal dudes. Watchers are the ultimate Bad Boys. Watchers are gorgeous - sinfully so. We are dark, dangerous, and exert devilish bad influence on humans. But, we are also a lot of fun. We are enticing, seductive.
I’m no exception to that rule. I surely know how to have fun. I can tempt anybody. Honestly speaking, those humans who can see me have little chance against my great looks, for starters. I’m 6’2”. I have shoulder length dark brown hair, wavy and thick. I have dark blue eyes, a strong, square jaw and deep-set eyes. I’ve got full lips and a charming smile, dimple and all. Only one, on my right cheek. Wide shoulders that narrow down to a small waist and a nice, round butt. Long, strong legs; toned, muscled arms. All these add up to form a well-built, chiseled body, which is usually clad in dark clothes, preferably black. Often leather.
As I said earlier, a Watcher is assigned to a person at their birth. They become our mission, not our ward. There is no sense of duty or loyalty on our part. No devotion, no noble feelings. We don’t protect them; we influence them to guarantee their souls are damned. We unashamedly resort to anything within our grasp to achieve that. We lie, deceive, lure, trick. Nothing is off limits since we have no morals, nor scruples. We are Fallen Angels so you get the picture. Our goal is to insure these mortals stay with us in the after-life. Forever. So why am I so hesitant? What is wrong with me? What’s the problem with this assignment?
Around thirty years ago, Kesabel summoned me. When I arrived in his office, he greeted me with a nod and told me to sit down across from his desk.
“You remember the Borghese-Cavazza, don’t you?” he asked me.
“How could I ever forget them? They made the Borgia look like a bunch of sweet old ladies.”
“You had a lot to do with that, if I recall correctly, had you not?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag,” we laughed at my joke. “So, let’s just say they were easily swayed. I mean, considering the seeds I planted in their minds always found very fertile soil to grow and multiply, you could say I merely fed their natural tendencies.”
“Yes, I remember. They were very creative when it came to political scheming and not so lawful material gains. Not to mention their sexual appetites.”
“Don’t make me blush,” I said and we laughed harder. “They threw the best parties. Caligula would have envied them if he were alive in the Borghese-Cavazza time.”
“Most certainly,” Kesabel nodded emphatically. Caligula used to be his pet project and he did an awesome job at it. “I had a chance to attend some of these celebrations and I can say I miss those times.”
“As much as I like to reminisce, I’m sure you didn’t call me up for that,” I cut him off. I’m not patient.
“No, I didn’t. When was the last time you had contact with the family?”
“I don’t know. A couple of centuries ago, I guess.”
“Well, let me fill you in. They are still obscenely wealthy but many things have changed. The family is much smaller now and the only heiress to their empire is a sweet girl named Gabriella.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I replied after some seconds of trying to remember anything I might have heard about this woman. “That’s crazy considering they used to be big news.”
“That’s part of my problem, Greg. You see, they have been domesticated, pacified. Except for a couple of distant cousins, who have no direct access to the money but are easily influenced by us, we’ve lost control over the family. This Gabriella girl married a nice young man named Kane Hewson. He’s a child of the flower power generation. You know the type – concerned about the environment, about ending world hunger and poverty.”
“Argh, I hear you, Kesabel,” I exclaimed in disgust. “I often wonder why we failed so miserably with those hippies. What went wrong with our plans for them? They seemed so full of potential. Free sex, drugs, loose morals. Then, they turned their backs on us and started talking a
bout peace and harmony for all Mankind and all that shit.”
“My point exactly. We failed back then. I don’t want to repeat that now. This Kane Hewson character is always trying to save the world and he has convinced Gabriella to help him. They have a bounty at their disposal. All the fortune that countless generations of Borghese-Cavazza managed to accumulate thanks to our hard work, I might add.”
“What a waste,” I uttered, enraged. I don’t deal well with wasted potential.
“So, you can see why I’m pissed off at this lovey-dovey couple, Greg. They have inherited more money than they can spend in ten lifetimes. They could buy and sell a few countries. But, no! They want to feed the world with it,” Kesabel slammed his fist on his desk, making it shake a little.
“What can I do to help?”
“In a few months, the happy couple will have a daughter. I want you to be responsible for Angela Hewson. They have already chosen the baby’s name,” he added when I raised an eyebrow at the information.
“How sweet of them to name their daughter after an old charge of mine,” I sneered.
“I know. Isn’t that a riot?” he laughed.
“I hope this one has a fraction of her great-great-whatever grandmother’s personality. I have very fond memories of the original Angela Borghese-Cavazza,” I said with a very sly smile. “What I remember from those sensual, crazy days with the first Angela could hardly be described as ‘fond’, more like sizzling and naughty.”
“Don’t I know that? I’m counting on your luck with the women in the family to bring this Angela back to our side.”
“Consider it done, Kesabel.”
True to my word, when Gabriella and Kane Hewson rushed to the hospital, on a very cold November day, in New York, I was by their side, eagerly waiting Angela’s arrival.
