House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Clare threw herself onto the soft lively grass, and faced the bayou waters, it was as soft as she imagined, and smelt of musk, the strongest kind.

A tree moved toward her, shading the sun from her face, a few minutes before Kalbreal left to fetch them something to drink while she stretched out her aching legs.

She placed her hands under her neck, lying on her back and stared up at the tree kind enough to shade her, watching the dance of its leaves as it provided her with entertainment as well, moving to ballet in her mind.

She bent her neck forward, chin to chest, looking toward the water, as an image played up in her mind,

Phillip,

She wondered if he was ok, did he try calling her, she wouldn’t know because she left her phone at the castle. She thought of her mother’s death, it had been just a day ago but felt like a week by the way the Lightwatchers carried on like none of it mattered. She couldn’t fault them, life went on for them, they were born to die, killers. Death was not the end because their souls lived forever, wow, she couldn’t get her head around this crap.

She replayed the ceremony in her head, what could have gone wrong, and that man, William, his faceless body, those unique eyes penetrating right to her very soul, as his hands wrapped around her, she remembered breathing in his very air. She rubbed her fingers together, remembering the feel of his cheek moving against her palm, as her fingers brushed his flesh.

“Princess,” she whispered the endearment, the thought made her face heat up and a silly smile tickled her lips. It was the biggest brightness in her darkest hours and she would hang on to it, for as long as she could.

stood in front of her, blocking her view of the lake, holding two big cups of juice. “You shouldn't think so much,” handing one to her, he said with a smile, “It

missed, laughing, “Your brother said to meet us here, the meeting’s

and put his own on the grass, which was now flattened

the juice on her pants, luckily, it was leather. The tree dropped pears. Kalbreal picked up four, rinsed them in the lake and threw one at Clare, “You did not just wash the fruit in a lake full of dead people’s ash.” He bit into it, her jaw dropped, “Nothing mixes with

say so but if I get infected, it’s all on you Angel-boy.” The tree turned and dropped a pear on Clare’s head, she

the battle of silence, curiosity spurred her, “What

a maker they can’t have a

do that? Why would anyone do

strong, a great warrior and fearless. Cedriel was given the gene, not the conscience. They married young hoping he’d ascend and at least be a teacher, but today when it happened, he had a mark that is rare, a mark that chooses his faith for him. In his case his path was forced on him, it’s believed

can’t you help him,

out of place, so perfect, too perfect. His orange streaks just took it all and gave it a perfection

he was standing five feet away, but that intense fire that erupted in his irises, said a lot of things, but one screamed out to her…, Kalbreal was hanging on to a deadly secret. A secret that she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know. His jaw ticked before his lips parted to say, “he’s been blessed, it isn’t a curse