Her Wicked Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 6) (Reading Sample) by Felicity Heaton (best ebook for manga .txt) 📕

Asmodeus couldn’t wait.

Hell was about to get very interesting.

Until then, Asmodeus was content with amusing himself watching the Devil grow increasingly frustrated and desperate. Weak.

He had never seen the Devil this weak before, not in the thousands of years he had lived.

“What business do you have with me?” Asmodeus casually preened his feathers, preparing them for the flight home, and ignored the Devil’s scowl.

The male hated it when he spoke to him without an ounce of respect. Everyone else under his command simpered and scraped at his feet. As far as Asmodeus was concerned, the Devil had enough pathetic creatures kissing his expensive Italian leather shoes. Asmodeus wasn’t about to join them. He was above them.

The Devil’s right hand man.

A male created for destruction and bloodshed.

“You are to travel to the mortal realm and retrieve a female for me.”

Asmodeus’s black eyebrows pinched in a frown and it took him a moment to absorb exactly what the Devil had said and the connotations it contained.

One, he was ordering him to lower himself to the role of minion, retrieving him another female for his harem. Treating him like a servant. That irked him. He was not just another of the Devil’s servants.

Two, he was offering him a taste of the mortal world, granting him leave to step outside the environs of Hell for the first time in his existence. That intrigued Asmodeus. He had always wanted to see the mortal realm with his own eyes and experience it.

Asmodeus stared at him, weighing his options. Swallow his pride and finally fly in the world above, seeing the buildings and the colours, and all the things he had only ever seen in the pool on the plateau, or tell the Devil to stick it and spend the next week in the cells, probably tortured, possibly maimed permanently for his disobedience.

Asmodeus swallowed his pride and it tasted bitter. “Fine.”

The Devil grinned, revealing short fangs. “Good. You will find her in Paris, in the middle of the park near the base of the Eiffel Tower. She will be wearing crimson and black. Bring her to me.”

Asmodeus nodded, took a step backwards and then turned away from the Devil.

He threw his hand out in front of him and a black vortex appeared, swirling like smoke. It had been many centuries since he had bothered practicing glamours and veils, having given up on ever leaving Hell and having no need for changing his appearance in this realm. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten how to cast them.

Asmodeus focused on himself, casting a veil so none would see him when he stepped through the portal into the mortal realm.

“Bring her to me quickly, Asmodeus,” the Devil said behind him and Asmodeus nodded again.

Perhaps he would dally just a little. Who knew when the Devil would allow him to leave Hell again?

He stepped through the black portal and tensed as he appeared in the mortal realm. His eyes watered and he blinked against the assault of strong light, leaning back into the shade of the tower that speared the blue sky above him.

Blue.

Asmodeus tipped his head back and stared up at it, and then looked at his surroundings. Green trees. Dark metal. Pale stone. Mortals dressed in a multitude of colours. The warm air carried strange scents. Dust. Something sweet. Smoke. Sounds came from every direction. Blasts of noise and distant rumbles of what he suspected were vehicles. Constant chatter. Laughter. Squeals of happiness. All alien to him.

All choking and closing in on him.

He didn’t like it.

He took a step back towards the portal behind him and glared at everyone as they passed. Ants. Hundreds of them. Swarming. Shoving. Jostling each other. He wanted to kill them all. They were noisy. Brutal. Irritating.

Insignificant.

Powerless.

Asmodeus grinned, his golden eyes narrowing with it, and flexed his fingers. His fangs began to lengthen and his black claws followed them.

Prey for the hunter.

He would drown out the disgusting scents with the smell of blood. He would replace joy with fear, with screams and sobs and pointless pleas for mercy. He would bathe this colourful world in crimson.

Crimson.

A flash of that colour caught his eye and his gaze zeroed in on it. It was gone, lost in the sea of other hues. It flickered again, further off to his right, and his eyes shot to it. Wavy chestnut hair bounced against crimson ruffled material with each light step. He caught a sliver of black jeans. Crimson and black. The female the Devil wanted.

She turned and he glimpsed her face, and his desire to bathe his hands in the blood of these puny creatures slipped away, calm suffusing him, making him forget his irritation and dark desires.

She blinked, black lashes shuttering luminous hazel eyes, and turned away, continuing onwards towards a strip of green land to his right beyond the shadow of the tower.

Asmodeus felt a tug behind his breastbone, pulling him in her direction, but something told him it wasn’t the Devil commanding him to follow her. It was something else that made him want to track her through the crowd.

He focused and altered his appearance as he walked, hiding his pieces of gold-edged black armour with a black dress shirt, black jeans and leather boots, and shielding his wings. He lifted the veil that concealed him from mortal eyes and stalked the female as she moved through the thinning crowd, keeping his distance but remaining close enough that he wouldn’t lose her.

She stepped out into the bright sunlight on the vivid green grass and it cast golden highlights in her hair. Asmodeus’s heart missed a beat and then thumped hard against his ribs. His palms sweated.

Why?

He had hunted thousands before for the Devil. This female was no different. He would capture her and take her to him.

He wouldn’t.

Asmodeus shook his head and paused at the edge of the crowd, staring after her.

He wouldn’t?

He had pushed the Devil to the limit of his patience a thousand times but he had never disobeyed an order. He would not begin now.

He would take the female to his master.

The female in question turned on the grass and peered up the height of the tower, using a slender hand to shield her eyes, and Asmodeus’s heart missed another beat.

He slammed his hand against his bare chest and coughed. What was wrong with him?

Was the mortal world making him sick? He had never been sick before, but he had heard that demons could become ill. He wasn’t a demon though. He had never heard of an angel growing sick. Was it possible?

All the more reason to grab the female and return to Hell.

He took a step towards her, and then another one. She turned her back on him and he closed in until he was only a few metres away.

He just needed to grab her and then deliver her to the Devil. It wasn’t difficult, so why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated before. He had carried out his master’s orders without pause or regret, spilling blood and carving flesh, destroying lives. This was easy. Grab. Deliver. End of mission.

The Devil would have a new female for his growing harem. Asmodeus would return to his castle.

His stomach turned at the thought of that male laying his filthy claws on this delicate, dainty female.

He stared at the back of her head, replaying how she had looked when she had paused to glance up the height of the Eiffel Tower.

Wide hazel eyes.

Soft rosy lips.

Delicate perfect features and porcelain skin.

Chestnut hair cascading over her shapely shoulders.

Beautiful.

Pure.

Asmodeus wanted to close the gap between them, gently lay his hands on her shoulders, and slowly turn her to face him so he could drink his fill of her beauty and purity all over again.

Instead, he took a step backwards, distancing himself from her. Foreign feelings and thoughts collided in his mind, filling it and sending him in circles, tearing him between completing his mission and doing something that astounded him.

He could leave her here, in peace, and come up with an excuse. He couldn’t let his despicable master ruin her. He wouldn’t.

He turned away and held his hand out before him, focusing on the air there to call a portal back to Hell.

“Where do you go, Asmodeus?” The soft female voice caught him off guard.

His shoulders tensed and his outstretched hand shook.

She knew his name. She recognised him. And she spoke in English, even though they were in France.

English was not the native language of this land.

He had never left Hell before.

How did she know him?

He looked over his right shoulder and found her standing where he had left her, but facing him, her hands clasped in front of her, over the point where her crimson short-sleeved gypsy-style top met her black jeans.

A serene smile curved her rosy lips and it was then that he felt the incredible power in her.

He had never felt power like this in anyone other than the Devil.

She was strong, but it was not evil that flowed through her veins. It was something else. She was something else.

He had never spoken to a female like her before, and he wasn’t sure how to address her or whether he should even be concerned about such things. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, steeled himself against his turbulent feelings, and told himself to get a grip. She was a target. He was here on a mission. He would not disobey his master. He would not allow this mere slip of a woman to affect him.

Asmodeus shifted to face her. “Who are you?”

“Liora,” she said with a breezy smile and bright eyes, and held her hand out to him. He stared at it but didn’t take it. She sighed and lowered it again. “You came for a reason… is it because of my cousin?”

He frowned. “Cousin?”

Perhaps he should have asked the Devil for more information about this mission before taking it. Why would he be here because of her cousin when he didn’t even know who she was?

She knew who he was. That still bothered him. He wanted to know how she knew of him and why she wasn’t running in fear.

The female called Liora nodded. “Serenity.”

His guard instantly rose and his senses stretched out to map the area in case this was a trap. He scowled at her and his right hand twitched at his side, ready to call his blade should he need it.

Had she been awaiting his arrival, willing to play bait so they could catch him? How had Apollyon known his master would let him fly free of Hell?

Asmodeus drew in a deep breath to calm himself and pushed all his questions away. Apollyon could not know he was here and this was not a trap. There was no need for him to be on edge. There had to be a reasonable explanation for everything.

He stared at the female. Liora.

Apollyon’s female, Serenity, was this beauty’s cousin. That only made him more intrigued about why the Devil wanted her.

Did he intend to use Liora against Apollyon? Apollyon was the Great Destroyer, one of the most powerful angels in existence and the one who was destined to fight the Devil and keep him contained within Hell and the bottomless pit.

Apollyon was also Asmodeus’s brother, or father of sorts. The first time the Devil had defeated Apollyon, he had tortured the male to the brink of insanity and had then drawn all that was evil out of him. The Devil had used that blood and a smattering of his own to create Asmodeus.

“You don’t look much like Apollyon. I’ve met him and now I’ve also met you… and you seem very different.” She eyed him, hazel gaze curious and intense as she cocked her head to one side. Her tone had a decidedly playful edge to it, soft and light, not exactly how he had expected a mortal to react to him. She was confident, calm, and a little bit teasing.

Asmodeus stared blankly at her. This was not normal