The exciting conclusion to the Divine Fornication series:
The end is near as Claire finds herself caught between vampires, werewolves and angels, all of them prepared to battle for the one thing they value most--Claire's eternal soul.
Will Claire's own angel return in her last, most desperate moments? Or, will she be cursed to eternal damnation, lost forever more?
Warning: Please be advised that this story of 8,500 words contains graphic sexual scenes that are described in an explicit manner. It is intended uniquely for those persons of 18 years of age and older.
The leader of the forest wolves stepped clear of the pack, his eyes never leaving the Seraph, his mien promising blood and ruin to the vampire lord.
Daniel walked toward Claire, cradling one arm within the other, and as he came she saw him quiver with a resonance that reminded her of a struck tuning fork. She had seen it once before, upon his tower top, and the result was the same as his colossal form vibrated and shrank to the stature of a normal man.
"Are you hurt?" asked Claire, feeling foolish as she said it. She had seen the unnatural angle of the giant's arm just moments before.
"Ah, Claire...it is nothing that will not undo itself presently," Daniel said, "As I am fond of saying, I am Nephilim and the power that drives my father is in no small measure part of me. In other words, most injuries are but temporary inconveniences."
"Ok...if you say so," Claire replied, uncertain.
"But, you, dear woman, I see that you have suffered grievously at the hands of the wolves," Daniel gestured toward her thigh and the marks of canine jaws that had driven deeply into her leg.
"Perhaps," said a low voice, halfway to a growl, "But, it was in an effort to save her from your poison, blood drinker."
Clash stood beside them, his strong hands planted on his hips, his posture one of a man ready for anything.
"Claire shall be my mate and the power of the wolves will drive out your evil. What's more, as his herald, I believe that Galgallin will come to her aid once she is made pack."
Daniel shook his head, his face darkening as he considered the wolf's words.
"But this cannot be," he said, "The contagion of Caim's poison will consume her no matter what efforts the wolves bring to bear. I can but offer her that the change be gentled through my own power.
"Claire," he said, turning to her, "I have never bitten a human with the intention of turning them. And, my strength is far greater than that of Caim's. I shall take you from this place and once in security, I will help you through the inevitable, but with the undiluted kiss of the Nephilim and not that of wolves, or rabid vampires."
Claire looked from his white marble face to that of Clash, his visage slipping slowly into wolf form. She saw that he readied himself for yet another battle, while the Nephilim regarded her with compassion in his strangely blank eyes.
And then, suddenly, filling her nose was the heady scent of exotic spices. It was powerful, but somehow exquisitely clean and vibrant, the odors of oranges and cedar. There was cinnamon and ginger, sandalwood and the scent of ripe figs.
A musical voice spoke, as if from thin air, and said, "Have either of you thought that perhaps there is a third choice? Or, even to simply ask just what Claire wants?"
The voice came from behind her and before she could turn around to take in the sight of his golden skin, the Messenger wrapped his arms gently around her.
Suddenly, the ground fell away from Claire's feet as the angel bore her skyward, his great wings beating strongly, with the confidence of the ages.
Up they rose, winding their way through clouds that grew thicker, until they were surrounded in a sea of whirling, churning whites and grays.
"Let go of me!" she shouted as they settled down upon the misty surface of a cloud.
Claire looked down and could see the Messenger's feet resting upon the cloud, while her own dangled, touching nothing.
"But, if I did that, Claire, you would fall and I will risk no further harm to you."
His voice was low, serious, while the arms that encircled her held her firmly.
"'No further harm'? What a joke...you abandoned me," she shouted to the creature at her back.
"Like you said, I should be able to say what I want and right now, all I want is to slap your face, you bastard. You're no guardian angel."
Through the anger that burned in her, she felt him lean down to her, his mouth at her ear and his lips close enough to brush her skin as he said, "No, I am not...nor was I ever, Claire. Guardian angels are a quaint human fiction and if ever there were some truth behind it, it was lost ago along with all knowledge of our creator."
He sighed and continued, "I, too, know what it is to be abandoned. To be so lost as to no longer remember who I am or, even, what I am. To be so entirely unanchored that I drift, purposeless, until something comes for a time to fill me with an intent not of my own making."
Claire shook with the words she heard him speak. Not her guardian angel?
"I don't understand," Claire stammered, "You saved me in that car accident. You did...."
"Oh Claire, I am sorry," the angel replied, "I did not save you from that accident. Rather, I was the cause of it. I am the reason your parents died that day and why you have spent most of your life blind....