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.

it, relax her aching feet from all that walking in the forest and maybe have a nap. While she laid on her stomach and forgot this

her mother, not her death. That would always be something too sudden, too fresh, something that

thought. Expecting a soft drop, she squealed

with the idea of how tired she really was

the bed, directly

her life depended on it. Tightening

under the sheet, “This

lights went on, brightening

blazed eyes and furrowed eyebrows taking her in, with lustful heat, but there was something in the way he stared her down, something that

She muttered, “Kalbreal,”

him since the afternoon. Her mind puzzled about what to say, how to say it. He was an Angel, 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 with all his piercings on his ears, gothic eyes, and