I thought I was a good girl. I thought that no matter what others did for my sake, I could stay innocent. I thought that as long as I acted out of love, I’d be blameless.
I was wrong, wasn’t I?
Milja Petak’s world has fallen apart.
Her lover, the fallen angel Azazel, has cast her aside in rage and disgust. The other contender for her heart, the Catholic priest Egan Kansky, was surrendered back into the hands of the shadowy Vatican organization, Vidimus, after sustaining life-threatening injuries.
She has killed and she has betrayed. She is alone, homeless, and at the end of her tether – torn apart by guilt and the love she has lost. But neither Heaven nor its terrifying representatives on Earth have finished with Milja. Both of her lovers need her in order to further their very different plans, and both passionately need her, though they may try to deny it.
Milja is once again forced into a series of choices as she uncovers the secrets Heaven has been guarding for centuries. But this time it is not just her heart at stake, or even the fate of a fallen angel.
This time, the choices she make will change everything.
This time it’s the End of the World.
In addition to interviewing her protagonist, Milja, right here, Ashbless shared a fabulous scene that starts in the best way possible (bootless and naked).
And now, my friends, I’m sharing it with you. 🙂
The Prison of the Angels Sneak Peek
I was bootless and naked, almost knee-deep in a drift. I still had my panties in my right hand, but they seemed purposeless so I tossed them away with an uncomprehending laugh, starlight fizzling against my bare flesh. I shook out my hands and lifted my arms to the moon, feeling its glare lap me like a cold tongue. Every particle of my flesh was filled with its glow.
My hair unwound itself from its braid and spread out on the air, a dark cloud.
“Milja?” It was Egan’s voice, all resonance flattened by the snow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just fine! Over here! Look at the aurora!”
He waded into sight between the small trees, looking around himself in confusion; up at the laden branches, down at his hands. “I can see every flake,” he said wonderingly. “I could see where you danced in the snow.” He finally caught sight of me properly. “Ah.”
I came to him through the snow, feeling the squeak of its compression beneath my bare soles. He was muffled up in all his outdoor gear, and I recognized my discarded clothes in his gloved hand.
“You’re not cold then?” he said faintly.
“I’m hot,” I giggled, pulling the garments out of his hand and dropping them aside, then catching his gloves and drawing them off to discard too. I put his hands on my waist so that he could share my body-heat; they felt cool to me.
“I can count your eyelashes,” he whispered. His pupils were hugely dilated, making his eyes look black and empty.
“I’m impressed,” I laughed, drawing his hand up to cup my bare breast, where it belonged. “My eyes aren’t even down there.”
He made a valiant effort to lift his gaze back to my face, but failed. He seemed hypnotized by the sight of my naked body, by the in-curve of my waist and the swell of my breasts. “Oh God. That mead was spiked. There was something in it—I don’t know what.”
“Angel blood.” I quivered as his fingertips found my erect nipple. “It’s made with blood.”
“What’s it doing to us?”
“Don’t worry.” I stretched up to brush my face against his, and the press of my body forced him to move his hands around to my back and my ass, skin gliding over skin, testing the slopes and curves like they were snow mounds he dare not deface. “Just enjoy.”
He made a broken noise in his throat, but his hands were everywhere.
I brushed my cheek against his, teasing his lips with the promise of my own. His frozen breath had formed a crust of rime on his stubbled jaw and I kissed it away.
“Milja.” The word was thick with desire. “Don’t.”
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