House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

She looked wide-eyed at him “Tell me something about the Angels, something I’d find interesting.”

His jaw ticked, and his demeanour changed, she was almost certain that he wouldn’t say anything, he’d close off, but Kalbreal surprised her, “We don’t do marriage like the deceptors, we take consorts, most of the time by a blood binding to seal the bond, but in the Infinity, there are those of highest rank, they are…” he paused, “different. If they find their true consort, their destined mate and complete the mating a true bond is formed, and the said beings’ Gazool is multiplied. But if he comes into contact with his true consort, and neglects the pull, until the bond is formed he’s Gazool or energy as some call it, cannot be easily controlled. The more powerful the being is, the worse the side effects. Which will be catastrophic if that said someone was to be roaming on this earth, which is why when they normally meet their true consorts they seduce them to hasten the bond.”

Kalbreal stared at her until she started feeling uncomfortable, was he trying to tell her something, he should just say it, why did he always have to be so evasive. The way he sat, the way he moved, she was beginning to see him as an Angel, a perfected being, almost flawless if it weren’t for his mouth. She smiled at the thought, arrogance suited the bastard though she’d give him that.

“What?” she snapped unable to stop squirming under his patronizing gaze that saw more than she wanted to reveal.

“There’s a rumour going around that Franchesca Draiken’s youngest born is the son of Azazy-el, and Azazy-el being a prince means, that he is of the highest rank, a cadre of hell, your mother could be his consort.”

She sat there staring at him, pretending he hadn’t just told her that her mother could be the consort of the prince of hell himself, “I know Caidrian and her split up after I was born.”

He faced front, eyes still drawn on her, “Franchesca was on a mission a year or so after you were born, she fled to Egypt landed in some trouble, and ended up in the mountain of Dudael.” He stopped, waited for a response but she remained silent, knots forming in her stomach, “Azazy-el would’ve known that there was a connection, a few have been known to deny the true consort bond, but he isn’t the type, your mother would’ve felt it too. A long time in a mountain, trapped with your true consort, the mortal mind can do crazy things, it’s possible. I wasn’t around that time, I asked William about it, knowing the twins wouldn’t speak, but he didn’t exactly answer my question, but a lot of the descendants believe that story.”

At the mention of Williams name, she stiffened, but quickly brushed it off not wanting Kalbreal to notice her infatuation, because that’s what it must be right, to her faceless Caster, “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asked incredulous, “because I’m not buying it.”

His gaze was compensative, when he replied, in that deep masculine voice, “It could be a partial truth, you must understand the truth is not what you convince people in believing, it’s that which is forged.”

A permanent expression that he mastered, his, not fake like some humans but real. She was certain that whatever questions she had, Angel-boy

blankly, she not only changed the subject, but she altered its course, when she asked, “What’s so special about Calub that a Tempter or someone

We shouldn’t be discussing this now.” His eyes pierced her with an ire of warning; she had yet to see on Angel-boy. They glowed a mica of black and orange volcanic eruption, “You can’t tell anybody about this,” she gasped at his feral growl, her eyes widened by the fear that crept in her,

was overwhelmed; this was no minor Angel as Caidrian said. Clare was certain that Kalbreal was more powerful than he wanted people to believe, much more. This meant he must have had an important position in the Infinity. The question which had never occurred to her

on the earth for the past eight years, there WAS a reason,

as a lady, wearing a royal blue robe, walked toward a glass microphone, which stood in the centre of the court. Behind the lady sat the four people in the

robe, he wore black leather pants and a powdered blue shirt. The sleeves of his robe folded up, revealing black strings and beads wrapped around his wrist as if he sensed her, he turned his head and looked smack into her face,

been in her forties, but judging by what Clare knew of the

and the room went immediately quiet, “Members of The Order and Lightwatchers, a Lightwatcher has been lost to us, but another from the Moonstone and Draiken blood

the beat-heavy as she obeyed, without acknowledging Kalbreal. People

walked down a middle pathway of iron steps, with each descend she took, her breathing escalated, her palms

Step, step, THUD THUD

herself, urging her body to move forward, why was she so nervous,