ARCHANGELS ENIGMA PDF
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Download Archangel's Enigma (A Guild Hunter Novel) Download at: http:// instruktsiya.info?book=B00SA4ZUFS [PDF] Download Archangel's. Guild Hunter Novel ebook PDF or Read Online books in PDF, EPUB, and Mobi Format. - za,. 23 mrt GMT Archangel's Enigma (A Guild Hunter. Smexy Books. "Amazing in every way!" - Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author. Download Archangel's Enigma (A Guild Hunter Novel) pdf.
Each time a fighter went through, the curtains fell automatically back in place, trapping the heat inside. Naasir had snuck into the high-rise soon after he first returned to New York two weeks earlier.
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The inside was structured so that the remaining parts of the internal floors and ceilings jutted out at unusual angles; the distance between one and the next was often deep. Enjoying the lush greenery within, the vines climbing up the sides already starting to take strong hold and small trees digging in their roots as flowers bloomed, Naasir had made his way to the top regardless-without alerting the Legion he was in their territory.
He didn't think the Primary had been pleased when Naasir appeared on the glass of the roof, but the leader of the Legion was loyal to Raphael, and Naasir was one of Raphael's Seven, so they existed in a wary truce.
Just thinking about the Legion made Naasir's skin prickle and muscles tense. They were so old and so other that he often had to fight the compulsion to bite them. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he sometimes felt that the strange fighters who flew on wings devoid of feathers, were more like him than anyone else in the entire world. Naasir might not have wings, but he was as other.
Except, where there were seven hundred and seventy-seven in the Legion, he was only one. You are angry with us because we are many, but you know deep within that you are one of us. A child of the earth. Bitterly young in comparison to our eons-long existence, but with a connection to life that is primal.
The leader of the Legion had said that to Naasir with a straight face. The other man-though man didn't feel like the right description-truly believed his words. He didn't understand that Naasir wasn't anything natural. He hadn't been born of the earth; he'd been created by a monster. A monster whose liver and heart Naasir had clawed out and eaten.
Teeth bared, he looked down at the balcony to his left and two floors below, noting that it was one of the rare ones with a railing. Dmitri had said he couldn't jump to the city streets because he'd end up flattened like a pancake, but this jump wasn't far and the wind, while brisk, wouldn't push him right to the edge.
Muscles bunching a split second after his eye fell on the other balcony, he jumped. Cold air rushed past his face, pasting his T-shirt to his body and stinging his eyes, and then his bare feet hit the hard surface of the balcony. Absorbing the impact through his entire body, having purposefully ended up in a feline crouch, he found the wind had pushed him farther than he'd expected-another couple of inches and he'd have hit the top of the railing, would've had to scrabble for purchase to keep from tumbling out into open air.
He was grinning at the close call when he became aware of someone rushing out onto the balcony. He didn't need to look behind him to know who it was; Honor's scent was as familiar to him as his own.
Rising to his full height as he turned, he saw that her cheeks were pale beneath her gold-kissed skin, her green eyes huge. I'll lose a piece of me if you die and it's a piece I'll never get back. That day, in Dmitri's dark eyes, he'd seen pain at the idea of a world without Naasir, as well as raw anger at the fact Naasir had once again endangered himself, and it had forever changed the boy he'd been. In many ways, that moment marked his true birth. The birth of Naasir, the person.
Even today, though he was full-grown, Naasir didn't like making Dmitri scared for him, or angry with him-and he felt the same way about Honor.
She was Dmitri's mate and part of Naasir's family now.
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She treated him as if he were hers to care for, to spoil, and to touch as family touched. That should've been strange, but it wasn't. He had no trouble following Honor's orders, no matter that he was the far more dangerous predator. Maybe because she belonged to Dmitri.
It made no sense, but when he was with Honor, her soft scent in his every breath, he felt like he thought a cub must feel next to the comforting warmth of its mother. She looked after him and she didn't do it in a way that made his hackles rise. Laughing a little raggedly now, she ran her hands down his back. Like the choppily cut hair that slid around his face, they were a metallic, inhuman silver that marked him as different.
Sometimes I forget to think like a human. Lifting her up in his arms and off her feet, he squeezed her tight. She laughed, silhouetted against a cloudless sky of chrome blue, and, when he put her back down, said, "Be on time for dinner.
I asked Montgomery for the recipe for the spiced meat you like. He was thinking about curling up in a sunny armchair in the corner and just napping when he felt the crashing wave, the biting, fresh touch of water, that was his archangel's voice in his head. Naasir, I need to speak to you. I'm on my way, sire. Leaving Honor with a rub of his cheek against hers that she permitted with a smile, he made his way to the room in the Tower from which Raphael ran his territory.
Her wings couldn't hold her aloft.
Only her mind was whole. Laying down her fully regenerated right hand on the arm of the throne of jade carved with nightmares and dreams and considered a treasure among angelkind by those who had seen it, she focused on the kneeling form of the angel below the dais. He had his forehead to the floor, his wings held gracefully to his back.
She couldn't remember how long he'd been sitting there and she couldn't quite make out his form with clarity. Her bleeding eyes didn't always work as they should. Raising his head from the floor, the man.
Yes, she recognized that yellow hair down to the shoulders. The Scribe placed his hands on his thighs and kept his head respectfully bowed as he began to speak. She remembered assigning him this task in the months before the battle with Raphael, even remembered reading the prophecy in an old scroll when she'd been a mere angel. At the time, it had meant nothing and she'd forgotten it for an eon.
Then had come her growing power, and with it, a faint whisper of memory that told her the scroll was important. It had taken her scholars and trackers almost a year to rediscover the ancient text, and since the moment of rediscovery, the words had become an echo at the back of her head, a drumbeat she couldn't unhear. Archangel of Death. Goddess of Nightmare.
Wraith without a shadow. Rise, rise, rise into your Reign of Death. For your end will come. Your end will come. At the hands of the new and of the old.
An Archangel kissed by mortality. A silver-winged Sleeper who wakes before his Sleep is done. The broken dream with eyes of fire. The Scribe's voice was crystalline as he said, "I have traced the origins of the prophecy to the Archangel Cassandra. But one thing about her legend had never changed: that on her ascension, she had gained the great and terrible gift of seeing the future.
Legend stated that she'd chosen to Sleep soon after she clawed out her own eyes in a vain effort to stop the visions. Her eyes had grown back within the day, and in the hour afterward, her dress still bloody, she'd disappeared.
Most of her prophecies had been lost in time and the ones that remained were often disregarded as the scribblings of some unknown fantasist.
Her wings had grown back after her brain and spinal column, as per the angelic hierarchy of what was important, but they were weak and prone to causing her torso to spasm, further exacerbating her remaining injuries. Breathing through the vicious sensations, she stared into the metal disk that acted as her mirror, and spoke the name of the Sleeper who needed to die.
Seven months since he'd told Ashwini he was ready to find a mate. Seven months and still his mate hadn't made herself known to him. Didn't she know he was looking for her? Crouched on the railing-less edge of a high Tower balcony, he growled.
A Legion fighter who'd just flown past turned to give him an appraising look. He bit back a satisfied smile. Perhaps he was meant to have a breakable mate, though that seemed ridiculous to him.
Or perhaps she was hiding her real self. The idea his maybe-mate might have a secret side fascinated him. Excerpt 2 Two hours after the dinner, Naasir shoved out of bed. He was meant to be resting so he and Andromeda could start the hunt tomorrow, but he was too wound up. A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.
He was allowed to have a mate. Gritting his teeth against the urge to follow the beguiling scent of the woman who was clearly not his mate, he pulled on his jeans and headed to the small training arena behind the stronghold.
He would jump up on the wall, climb down to the cliff, and make his way to the very bottom of the gorge that bisected the Refuge, then back up. The trip was difficult enough that it should exhaust— He growled inside his chest as her scent grew in depth and intensity the closer he got to the courtyard. There were no sleeping rooms at this end of the stronghold. What was her scent doing here? Not that he cared. He was going to ignore it. Muscles bunched, he stepped out into the night and frowned at the diffuse light from the two lamps someone had lit at a low intensity.
His eyes adjusted quickly enough, but he preferred full dark at night. Her top was the same color and close to a T-shirt. The wing slits were closed off with discreet buttons, the soft fabric hugging her upper body while leaving most of her arms bare. Light glinted off the threads of gold in her hair, her honeyed skin aglow.
When she moved, her wings rustled, but she kept them scrupulously off the ground. Dragging wings could not only get damaged, the habit created weak muscles. Those wings flared out as she made a controlled turn and he felt his gut clench. They were patterned with intricate gradations of color all the way to a pale golden brown, but the secret was only visible when she spread her wings.
They closed in a second later as she turned into another move. It was called tai chi. He much preferred the harder, faster martial arts like karate and tae kwon do.
He could take those movements and make them his own.He moved like a jungle cat, fed on blood and yet ate meat, had eyes that saw through the darkness, and seduced mortals and immortals alike with ease.
Kendra Adams. Tiffany Falcon. All he had to do was put her on the ground and this ridiculous exercise would be done and he could leave and his mouth would stop watering at the intoxicating scent of her.
The Pull Volume 2 43 Get Free: Hi did anyone ever get the6,7,9 and viper? But she did.