Forgotten Brotherhood, Book One
Maccus Fury, a fallen angel, is trying hard to keep his sanity. Seems being an assassin might be catching up with him. Now, Heaven, or Hell, has sent a beautiful assassin to kill him. Lovely. She’s pretending to seduce him, and he’s okay with that. She’s smart and snarky—but she has no idea what she’s walked into. And he’s more than peeved that they only sent one person. They’re going to need an army if they want him dead.
Morrigan Quill is one of Hell’s bounty hunters. She sold her soul to keep her sister safe, and now she’s working off her contract by catching bad guys and dragging them back to hell. When Lucifer makes her a new offer––that’s definitely too good to be true—she can’t say no. All she has to do is kill a powerful and crazy-hot fallen angel, who will totally kick her ass in battle.
Good thing he won’t see what’s coming next.
EXCERPT:
“Well? Are we doing this?” This wasn’t about flowers and promises of forever. This was about two people having hot, sweaty, and, hopefully, satisfying sex. She shoved down the tiny part of her that yearned for the flowers and promises.
“Oh, we’re doing it.” There was a grim determination in the words and tone that raised her hackles.
“Don’t put yourself out.” Shut up, Morrigan. Great, now I’m arguing with myself. And losing. “No need to do me any favors?” Why was she arguing, when the goal was to get him naked? “Trust me. I’m not.”
That’s not ominous. Not at all.
He removed his jacket and hung it on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Then he yanked the black tank top over his head and dropped it on the floor, exposing the huge expanse of his muscled chest.
The man was built like a god—wide shoulders, a deep chest, and biceps like small mountains. But it was the tattoos that drew her. They were everywhere.
Lethal throwing knives covered each side of his torso. He had a haladie, an ancient weapon with blades extending from both ends of a central handle inked on both arms. The details were incredible. It seemed that if she reached out, she could pluck them off his skin and use them to kill an enemy. Push daggers were etched into his palms. Like their name implied, they were small but deadly blades with a grip that allowed you to push them into your target.
A walking arsenal, all in dark ink.
N.J. Walters is a
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious
reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves,
dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with
smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but
someone’s got to live it.
Visit me at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
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