Demon Angel (The Guardians series)

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And this Hugh used her hesitation—and her weakness—against her. He leaned forward. Because your resistance is a lie, her mind whispered. She caught the thread of that truth, used it to steady herself. Of course it was a lie; she was a demon. Demons were nothing if not brilliant liars.

And truth was not a tool used solely by those Above. If humans believe in something strongly enough, it can be used against them.

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It becomes a truth. Is there a difference? She let him have it; she had others, and her hand was unencumbered now. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth closer to hers. He smelled of damp wool and warm skin, a disturbingly human scent. Her hand itched to call in her second blade, but she wanted—needed—more from him first. He cupped her chin; his palm was rainwet and cool. His thumb brushed her lower lip. But for what purpose?

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Her blade appeared on a thought, heavy in her hand, hidden behind his back. As if his exhaustion had finally taken him over, he rested his forehead against hers. That is the lie, Lilith. One of many. You must see it. Neither Guardians nor demons have a place in this modern world. Simply Hugh, without having to steal a kiss or bargain him into it. But she lost her grip on her sword.

Her arms were weak, her chest tight. Her breath burned her lungs.

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His hand moved between them, and the pressure beneath her breast became screaming pain. He slid the sword out and held her securely against him. He smiled and pushed her hair away from her face with his bloodstained hand. His voice was laced with sadness, but not regret. Hell must be nearing; the raindrops splashing against her cheeks burned her skin.

The oceans Below were of fire, not salt. No, do not weep—this was not Hell, but release. But she had no breath to tell him. She closed her eyes, and there was silence. It did not last. More Books in Romance See All. After Book 1. In Stock. The Giver of Stars. The Burnt Country. Meet Me in Venice. Love And Other Battles.

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The One. The Guardian of Lies. The Mister. Breathless Steel Brothers Saga. But not all the way back. And then the import of his statement sank in. She vanished her wings and turned in his arms to look at him in surprise, unmindful of the blade he held against the side of her neck. Hugh slew demons and nosferatu with barely a thought; something else—someone else—must have pushed him to this point. Whereas demons might destroy each other, the Guardians practically oozed brotherly love and kindness.

It was disgusting, really. A wicked grin tugged at her lips. His gaze dropped to her throat. She was certain the wound had already healed, and the rain had washed most of the blood away. Only a faint stickiness remained.

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No matter the provocation. But Hugh never lied—and only moments before she had been certain he would kill her. It seemed inconceivable, but perhaps, after endless years of sameness, something within him had truly changed. Now they were dark, and reminded her of the frozen faces Below, the blue of the tormented and the damned. Fear scrambled up her spine. She covered it with a laugh and tried to pull her hands from his grip. He held her fast. A mistake. She realized it immediately, but it was too late. He leaned forward.

She caught the thread of that truth, used it to steady herself. Of course it was a lie; she was a demon. Demons were nothing if not brilliant liars. If humans believe in something strongly enough, it can be used against them. It becomes a truth. She let him have it; she had others, and her hand was unencumbered now. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth closer to hers.

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He smelled of damp wool and warm skin, a disturbingly human scent. Her hand itched to call in her second blade, but she wanted—needed—more from him first. He cupped her chin; his palm was rainwet and cool.

His thumb brushed her lower lip. She laughed and shook her head. Her eyes narrowed. But for what purpose? Her blade appeared on a thought, heavy in her hand, hidden behind his back. As if his exhaustion had finally taken him over, he rested his forehead against hers. That is the lie, Lilith. Toggle navigation. This review was originally published July 15, The world building was imaginative, sensual and amazing. Like this: Like Loading Throwback Thursday Review: Midnight Enco.

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