by C. S. Wilde
A blush jolted to her cheeks and she averted her gaze. Ava wasn’t here to admire him; she was here to get a new assignment.
Ezra was still her superior, still the Messenger, and she should respect him as such.
“Why do you look away?” he asked from beneath silver eyebrows, a certain playfulness hidden within.
She gulped. “No reason.”
“Indeed. Especially after all we went through.” He crossed his arms and studied her. “I would say we make a pretty good team.”
Ava melted right then. She couldn’t suppress the goofy smile that spread across her lips. “I agree.”
He looked out the window and the sun graced his features, turning Ezra into something ethereal and nearly out of this world. Right then, he was beautiful and he was everything. The overwhelming urge to kiss him overcame Ava without mercy.
She took a deep, centering breath.
“I’ve talked to Vera,” he said.
A humorous chuckle rolled in Ava’s chest. “Oh, nothing good can come out of this.”
“This time, it did.” He winked at her. “We’ve decided you’ll report directly to me from now on. If that’s fine with you, of course.”
Ava’s jaw dropped. “But I’m just a Guardian.”
“My best Guardian,” he corrected.
“Ezra, the Throne and the Sword …”
“I’ll deal with them. You shouldn’t worry about anything other than saying yes.” His joy vanished all at once. “You’re also free to reject the idea, of course. I would never wish to force it upon—”
“I take it!” she said a little too eagerly. “Does this mean you’ll go on missions with me?”
“Sadly, no.” He sighed despondently. “I cannot cross that line again, Agathe made it abundantly clear. Also, I can’t afford to go out with you that often, as much as I’d love to.” He knocked on his desk’s marbled surface. “I am the Messenger, after all.”
“Indeed,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her tone.
“I truly enjoyed spending time with you. Helping the Garcías reminded me of how rewarding angelic work can be.” An ache for times long gone spread inside him, a dry longing that grew in his essence like poison ivy. He didn’t bother hiding it from her. “But I am the Messenger, and my duties have changed vastly from the time I used to be a Guardian.”
He was right, of course.
“Perhaps we’ll work together on an assignment again. One day …” she offered.
He gave her a mellow grin. He too must know that day would never come.
“Ava, this might be too forward of me, but I was thinking of a way for us—” He stopped himself midway as he turned to the door. A blurred shadow stood on the other side. “Never mind.”
She failed miserably in hiding her curiosity. What had he been about to ask her?
Outside, the figure knocked on the glassed surface.
“Enter,” Ezra said.
An angel with orange hair tied in a long braid stepped inside. His temples had been shaved, making him resemble a Viking warrior from history books. Swirling tribal tattoos decorated his skin on both sides of his head.
Talahel. The Sword, and the strongest child of the God of War and Resilience.
He nodded a greeting at Ava, then focused on Ezra. “My Messenger, I was hoping to discuss the guard shifts on sector twelve.”
“Of course, brother.” He patted Talahel’s shoulder with the affection one would find between family members. Or brothers in arms.
The open, warm Ezra only she knew gave way to the cold, calculating Messenger. Her superior.
A stranger.
“If you’ll excuse us, Ava?”
She gave them a quick curtsy and left, closing the door behind her.
An odd sensation swirled in her chest. Ava felt as if she was losing something precious to her. She observed the door and frowned.
Ezra.
Ava was losing Ezra, but she couldn’t explain why she felt such nonsense.
Losing him? To what?
She chortled and shook her head. Heavens, she should go for a checkup with the Erudites on the medical floor. Perhaps the remnants of her former mission still affected her in more ways than one.
From deep down, that same ravenous voice from before, the one Ava thought she’d silenced, whispered …
Fool.
11
He was lying down, surrounded by darkness.
A man with long blond hair and black beady eyes looked down at him, then smiled with pointy shark teeth. “He’s one of mine, sister.”
A jolt of fear swam through his body, though he’d never admit it. He had faced worse motherfuckers in his life, so if this guy wanted a piece of him, let him come and see what Big Dog was capable of.
A blonde woman with shining eyes appeared from the opposite side. She had to be the guy’s twin—they had the same nose and mouth, though her features were softer; thinner. Also, her teeth looked normal.
She wore a sleeveless dress with shifting galaxies, which was weird as fuck. Nice plump knockers, though.
Big Dog, you having the trip of your life, he thought to himself.
“Why, brother, so soon to judge?” the woman said with amusement as she analyzed Big Dog from top to bottom. “This time, however, you might be right.”
“Want a piece, sweetheart?” He shot her his best game face, but the woman curled her lips in disgust.
“Whatever,” he grunted, wanting to flip her the bird, but his body didn’t move. “What the …”
He suddenly remembered what happened in the Red Dogs’ headquarters. How that freak BC had taken care of his men with a finger snap. Big Dog was about to slash him in pieces … and then everything went blank.
“Where’s that fucker?” he growled more than said. “I’m gonna end him for good!”
The strange man with shark teeth chuckled. “Definitely one of mine.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Let’s get this done with. Ha—”
“Name’s Big Dog,” he snapped.
If he could move, he’d show that stuck-up bitch a thing or two. Not that he liked it, but a good beating worked wonders to remind a woman of her place.
She huffed in annoyance.
“Big Dog.” This time the weird-ass twins spoke in unison. “As it is told, as it is said, you are granted a choice at your time of death. Be reborn as a human, an angel, or a demon. If you refuse, be cursed to the in-between. The Gods and the Devils require your decision.”
He frowned. “You two trippin’ or what?” He writhed against whatever force kept him in place but it was useless. “Hey, why the fuck can’t I move?”
“Ah!” The odd man narrowed his eyes at him. “I was right, sister.”
She nodded. “It is done.”
“What? I didn’t choose anything!” Big Dog shouted. “I don’t even know what you fuckers are talking about!”
“Your essence spoke for you,” the woman explained. “Be reborn as a demon, Big Dog. The Angel and Demon of Death accept your decision.”
Angel and demon of Death?
Before he could ask them what the hell all of this meant, he slipped into oblivion.
“WAKE UP.” The low baritone rang from the darkness around him, something ancient and beastly that belonged to the depths of hell.
Big Dog forced his eyes open and stared at a wooden ceiling. Then green walls. He turned his head right to find a white sofa.
His apartment. Not the Red Dog’s headquarters, though he could swear he’d been there only a moment ago.
In any case, he was back in the city. And he felt fine.
He sat up and patted his body, finding everything in place. His face felt strange, though. Thinner and longer, somehow. Like he’d changed shape a little.
Nah, probably his imagination.
A victorious laugh burst from his lips. “It was all a bad dream!”
“Wrong.” The same deep, monstrous voice said from his left.
A mass of darkness floated amidst his living room, standing there the way of a black hole about to consume him.
Two slits that resembled eyes watched him eagerly. Blue flames burned inside them and fuck, Big Dog panicked. He looked at the door, wanting to dash out of here as fast as he could, but the voice said, “I’d advise you against it. Besides, I’m not here to hurt you.”
Feeling a little more at ease, Big Dog rubbed his forehead. “I’m hallucinating again.”
“Wrong,” the darkness repeated. “You’re dead. And there’s much work to be done.”
A prickly and alien sensation thrashed inside his chest. Big Dog slammed a hand on his heart, his fingers digging into his skin as if wanting to claw out what was spreading inside him. “Yo, I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“That’s your darkness. It fills a demon’s veins, courses through every inch of their body,” the mass explained. “Don’t fight it. Let it consume you. Let it free you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The mass shrugged, but not in a way Big Dog could see. He felt its motion, and it was really odd, feeling an action he couldn’t see. “You’re dead and have been reborn as a demon. That’s what it means.”
Big Dog shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck you are, dawg, but there’s no way I’m dead.”
The slits narrowed in a mix of annoyance and fury. “Call me dawg again and I’ll chop your head clean off your neck.” It tsked with disapproval and rubbed the bridge of its nose, even though it had none. “We must work on your language skills.”
Fine, so Big Dog probably was dead. There was no other way to explain all this shit, and he couldn’t be hallucinating. It all felt way too real.
“Alright. I’m dead and I’m a demon. So why are you here?” He raised his shoulders. “Why you helping me?”
If there was one lesson he’d taken to his death, it was that nothing ever came without a price.
“I have a plan for you.” The darkness floated toward the door. “Come.”
Big Dog’s legs trembled as he pushed himself up. The thing inside him squeezed gingerly, like it was trying to call his attention.
Get BC Bailey, it whispered. Make him pay for killing us.
“Revenge,” he—no, the thing inside him—grumbled. “I need revenge.”
Well, that wasn’t such a bad idea.
“The Messenger is not of your concern.” The mass turned to him, and its blue flaming eyes widened. “Forget about Ezraphael Stormglow.”
His head felt awfully light all of a sudden. Forget about who?
Big Dog remembered a man with silver hair and a blonde woman. Was his hair silver, though? He wasn’t sure anymore.
Big Dog felt the darkness grin, though he couldn’t understand why. They were talking about someone only a moment ago, but who?
A man with a Spanish name?
He couldn’t remember.
The dark mass floated closer to him, and the wild thing—the “darkness” inside him—shrunk in fear.
Big Dog didn’t cower, though. He was a bad motherfucker and he wouldn’t let this weird ass thing with blue eyes spot any weakness in him. He shook his head and sneered at himself. “Big Dog, check the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“You’re not Big Dog anymore,” the low baritone countered with disgust. “From now on, use your real name.”
“Oh yeah? Then tell me yours.”
The mass rumbled with a chortle. “I am that I am, and I am your Master. Now come, Hauk. Time is of the essence.”
Find out what happens next!
Click here to get BLESSED FURY, the sequel to BLESSED LIGHT
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FROM THE STARS
If you’ve read all instalments of the Angels of Fate series, why not try FROM THE STARS?
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“To be with him, I’ll bring the entire galaxy to its knees."
ALSO BY C.S. WILDE
ANGELS OF FATE:
BLESSED LIGHT
BLESSED FURY
CURSED DARKNESS
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THE DIMENSIONS SERIES:
FROM THE STARS
BEYOND THE STARS
ACROSS THE STARS
THE DIMENSIONS SERIES BOXSET
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PARANORMAL ROMANCE STANDALONE:
A COURTROOM OF ASHES
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URBAN FANTASY STANDALONE:
SWORD WITCH
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C. S. Wilde wrote her first Fantasy novel when she was eight. That book was absolutely terrible, but her mother told her it was awesome, so she kept writing.
Now a grown up (though many will beg to differ), C. S. Wilde writes about fantastic worlds, love stories larger than life and epic battles.
She also, quite obviously, sucks at writing an author bio. She finds it awkward that she must write this in the third person and hopes you won’t notice.
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For up to date promotions and release dates of upcoming books, sign up for the latest news at www.cswilde.com. You can also connect on twitter via @thatcswilde or on facebook at C.S. Wilde.
You can also join the Wildlings, C.S. Wilde’s exclusive Facebook group.
CONTENTS
Wildlings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
From the Stars
Also By C.S. Wilde
About the Author
