House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Clare entered the room, her vision taking time to adjust to the darkness. Narrowing her gaze to the only thing she could make out, a king-size bed, which she could barely see as it was, besides its shape.

Everything else was camouflaged in darkness, the curtains that draped the windows sealed, she couldn’t see anything else.

Annoyed,

She tried looking for the light switch by the door. Searching the walls with her fingers. The walls felt SMOOTH under her fingertips, unlike the cold marble they had in the bathroom.

No switch.

She was so tired, her eyes burned from exhaustion. The shower helped but not much in freshening her up, as she hoped it would. Instead, it reminded her of how she just wanted the day to end.

She drank the bathroom water from the taps in desperation for some long-needed rehydration. It was delicious. It wasn’t magical like she’d hoped, it didn’t cure the hunger pangs or the heartburn from the emptiness in her belly. And it definitely didn’t ease the constant cramps she had to endure until the moon ceremony was completed.

she wanted to do now, looking at the bed, was get into it, relax her aching feet from

That would always be something too sudden, too fresh, something that altered Clare’s life in so many ways. The moment it happened, it marked her heart with an obsidian marker that would continue to leave its scar every day, in the future.

at her burning eyes, succumbing to her desire. Clare threw herself on the bed without wasting a single thought. Expecting a soft drop, she squealed

tired she really was AND the bed she imagined was not

confirm her accuracy. She felt a hard lumpy thing. Fingers spread out she touched on something soft and cushy. Nonetheless, there was something hard on the bed, directly beneath her. She touched

off quickly. Her towel falling off, she grabbed the soft cloth and straightened it as fast as her life depended on

yelled from under the sheet,

and lights went on, brightening the room,

her face flushed with embarrassment at the sight of him. His sun blazed eyes and furrowed eyebrows taking her in, with lustful heat, but there was

She muttered, “Kalbreal,”

she didn’t know what powers Angels had, but looking into his orange and red sunrise eyes she couldn’t see anything Angelic about him. He was more like a bad boy, a satanic worshipper