Lover's Wrath: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (An Angel and Her Demons Book 3) by Lacey Andersen (best classic literature TXT) 📗

Lover’s Wrath

An Angel and Her Demons: Book Three

Lacey Carter Andersen

Contents

Dedication

Connect With Lacey

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Also By Lacey Carter Andersen

About the Author

Copyright 2020

Published by Lacey Carter Andersen

This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

Dedication

To my crew- you know who you are, and you know you’re awesome.

~ Lacey Carter Andersen

Connect With Lacey

Want to be part of the writing process? Maybe even get a taste of my sense of humor? Teasers for my new releases? And more?

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Website: https://laceycarterandersen.net

1

Tristan would never consider himself a liar, but he’d lied to Surcy and Daniel. He’d told them that they could focus on saving the Immortals and have a chance to rescue Mark in time. Which is impossible.

The instant Caine saw Mark’s soul, he would destroy it. There was no question. The druid, who was like a brother to Tristan, would be gone forever. The knowledge clawed within him, screaming in protest.

Gargoyles protected the people they loved. They died before they allowed their loved ones to hurt in any way. The fact that Mark was dead meant he failed.

He failed.

A scream built in his throat, a roar of protest and denial. Mark was kind and good. A man who was still ruled by the lost boy who’d been thrown out by his people at such a fragile age. He had seen the worst in the world and still had a heart of gold. Mark was something precious, and Tristan had been sleeping when he died.

Sleeping. It seemed impossible. How could he have slept?

If Tristan didn’t do something, he was going to snap. He was going to lose his mind. All his logic was slipping away, replaced by a heart-wrenching emotion he couldn’t escape.

As Daniel and Surcy dressed and equipped themselves with weapons to rescue the first Immortal, Tristan slipped out of their home, his heart racing. He needed to find a place to let loose, to let the scream building inside of him explode. He needed to level everything around him to the ground.

Because Mark is dead.

Because I failed him.

Soaring over the gardens and above the quiet city, Tristan felt something cold on his cheek. Reaching up and touching the hard stone of his gargoyle skin, he saw liquid on his fingertip.

Stopping on the edge of a building, he stared at it in confusion.

He didn’t understand. He was a gargoyle. Gargoyles couldn’t cry. Can we?

He was made of stone, and stone didn’t weep. And yet, the tear rested on his fingertip as if to remind him of the one flaw of his kind. Despite being made of stone, they had very real hearts.

If only there was something I could do. Anything…

He stiffened, his mind snapping to something he’d nearly forgotten. Perhaps there is something I can do.

Dropping his hand, he looked out at the sleepy city. He had planned to fly until the ache in his chest eased, just for a few minutes before he returned and showed nothing but strength to the two people who needed him to protect and guide them.

But maybe he could do more than that.

The price would be steep. But he would pay it. I would pay any price for Mark.

Taking to the air once more, knowing that time was of the essence, he shot across the city and flew with all the power in his wings. When he reached the woods, he kept going until he saw the place he must go. Lowering, he dropped just outside the cave.

Hesitating only a moment, he regarded a place he’d only heard spoken about in whispers, a place of death, sadness, and anger, a place anyone with any sense would avoid.

Striding forward, he ignored his racing heart. If it was the only way, then there was no use in hesitating, no use in rethinking the logic of his choice.

Because there’s nothing logical about this.

It was dark inside, but the demon in him could see just fine. He wove deeper and deeper beneath the earth until his feet crunched onto bone. Staring down, he saw the path littered in the bones of different creatures—most human in form.

He had found the place.

Continuing forward, his heavy stone feet crunched more and more bones, but he remained in this form, knowing that to enter her domain as a human male would mean instant death. A light grew brighter ahead. He sensed the people waiting, knowing someone approached. As he drew closer to the entrance, he reached the light of the torches.

His stomach flipped. The stone walls were blackened, except where they were splattered with blood. Giant pillars of stone lifted the high ceiling of the cavern. Massive demons wearing armor made of bones lined the path, weapons at their side.

He moved down the path. None of the demons moved. But he didn’t expect them to, not without her command.

At last, he broke out of the line of guards and drew closer to the throne made of bones. She waited there for him, the Demon of Sacrifice. Her face was that of a young, beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes that were dark, with the slightest violet-shade. She wore a black dress that moved and flowed about her as if trying to pull free from the violent power that