House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Clare groaned at the bright light filtering through the curtain. A quick flex of her shoulder blade confirmed her pain was almost non-existent. Guess Angel-boy had been spot on about it feeling better. Just to make sure she wasn't imagining it, she moved her bone around in circular motions. Her brain didn’t register much on the thought, Clare was just glad that she didn’t have to tell her mother, because that would be awkward.

After her teeth was brushed and bed made, she changed into her green knee-length skirt that sat snuggly on her waist, and a black blouse which she tucked in before slipping on her ‘home shoes’ which was a thick strapped slip on..

Clare looked at her phone, it was almost eleven. She practically ran to the dining area. Her mother couldn't be anywhere near her room, not with the bloody clothes still decorating the floor.

Surprise had her stop in her tracks, it was a table set with breakfast. Toasted bread, fresh fruit and honey with muesli, all Clare’s favourites and a glass pot filled with black coffee, which her mother equally enjoyed. She hoped this didn't mean they were moving to Timbuktu.

Noticing her mothers absence she checked around the apartment, finally spotting her standing outside on the phone. Clare stayed inside not wanting to seem inquisitive, especially now, with her guilt still intact. It was one thing to get away unscathed but this time things had gone sour. But with her fading bruises and almost fully healed shoulder her mother shouldn’t notice Clare was gone, which brought her instant relief.

Michelle Miller took overprotective mother to another level, so her morning encounters and occurrence she was keeping to herself, regardless of what almost happened.

Clare tried to eavesdrop on her mother’s conversation but all she managed to hear was, “… understand, I need more time. No, Wesley needs to keep his distance.”

Her mother looked concerned, and angry. Whoever she spoke to on the phone really got to her, but with her job Clare figured it was work.

conversation as unimportant, Clare sat at the breakfast table and poured

Clare now thought with a clearer head. She figured the guy at the church who had her eyes, probably would’ve mentioned something if he knew her. Coffee paused to her lips, now that she thought about it, maybe he did know her, it was not

his flaming eyes, she wondered how he had managed to jump from so high. He was an interesting character, though arrogant, he was better mannered than

and strong clearly couldn’t exist, and it did explain his ability to lift a car up and jump down from very high anonymous places. And then there was the looks, in honesty if it wasn’t for his broad built and ginger streaks in his black mane, he would have been annoyingly too

like it happened in the movies when a

as she dunked the end of her

did, ending up so lost in thought she didn’t hear Michelle come in. Nor did she

her presence. When Clare arched her own brow, coffee cup tipping her bottom lip, her mother narrowed her eyes with a knowing smirk, “How

let alone confront her so early about it. Normally her mother worked up to what she wanted to know, never was she blunt

okay, but if I’d asked

you.” Clare gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to throw the coffee cup on the wall. Instead, she sighed and sipped her

It's understandable for you to need space and feel that I'm smothering you, but I

know what goes on in

something but just thought better of it. She knew her mother ‘cared’ for her. But that wasn't what your daughter wanted to hear. Her mother never neglected her, far from it. Her motherly duties went far and beyond when it came to earthly needs. She was supportive as a parent should be. Clare couldn't complain that she lacked for anything, it’d make her look ungrateful. But how she did lack that warmth and touch of a caring mother or anyone for that matter. She was like a starved pup seeking comfort, willing