by Traci Douglass
Seven Seals series Book One
Love conquers all… but can it stop the Apocalypse?
Mira Herald is having the worst life ever. Not only is she plagued by horrific nightmares starring the Devil himself, she’s now the target of a power-hungry, rogue minion, freshly sprung from Hell and bent on her destruction. To complicate matters further, she’s acquired a stalker. One who insists he’s a divine warrior sent for her protection because she houses an ancient relic with the power to unleash Armageddon. Last time Mira checked, she wasn’t insane. Still, all this celestial mayhem is enough to drive a girl crazy.
Kagan is a member of the Scion, an elite team of immortal warriors selected by Divinity to aid mankind and save the world. After a century alone, Kagan is summoned for a new mission. He’s eager to begin. Eager until he’s informed his mission consists of protecting a woman with no clue to the power she wields. Plus, his briefing fails to prepare him for his new target’s cosmic-sized attitude problem. As Divinity’s sworn servant, he’s required to fulfill his duty. His oath, however, does not require him to be enthusiastic about his new assignment or warm-and-fuzzy toward his new compatriot. He plans a wham-bam rescue and a quick return to solitude.
The rogue minion attacks—with the backing of a mysterious organization—and all Hades erupts, putting a fast end to any whirlwind escapes. Accustomed to staunch independence, Mira’s survival now requires full cooperation and an unwavering belief in Kagan. The battle-hardened warrior is also forced to chose: between duty and desire. Amidst the turmoil, Kagan and Mira’s undeniable passion draws them closer to each other and down a path neither expected but both yearn for, more than they ever knew.
Will love save the day? The world’s fate depends on the answer.
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Kagan reclined against a streetlight across from The G Spot, hidden in shadow while observing the line now snaking down the block. Brutal frigid air smacked him in the face and he huddled inside his wool coat. For all its appeal, the Windy City was too far on the polar side for his taste. A century living in the remote Tuscan countryside had transformed the ancient Latin of his mortal Roman life into a fluent tide of Italian and rekindled his love of the sun and sand and heat. Chicago lacked all of the above. Here chill invaded his bones and people struggled with his accent. Kagan was now a man without a country, without a home. He ignored the slow burn of loneliness eating at his gut and flipped up the collar of his coat, squinting through watery eyes at the gathered.
The weather didn’t seem to affect the odd assortment of people waiting to enter the non-descript club attached to the liquor store. Mini-skirted women with no coats at all flirted with the bouncer and guys in the latest designer hip-hop wear talked on their cell phones. Goth rockers waited next to men in suits who’d finished up a hard day on the financial markets while the ever-present college horde laughed and carried on, out to party.
Kagan shuffled to increase his circulation and surveyed his target. Whatever he’d expected, Mira Herald wasn’t it. Though difficult to see exact details, her legs dangling high off the ground from atop the not so lofty perch of her stool hinted at a petite frame. Otherwise the girl remained a complete mystery, well barricaded within her voluminous outfit. No, voluminous was too polite a description. The mass of fabric surrounding her was nothing short of a circus-tent monstrosity — all fun-house shapes and baggy clown flounces. Except for her feet. The shapeless jeans were shoved deep inside a pair of boots more inclined to kick some ass than walk away.
Suspicion niggled as he eyed her footwear. This target may not prove as easy to secure as he’d first anticipated. Merda! Kagan’s gloved hands bunched and the wind howled. The fact he’d practically begged for a summons, any summons, did nothing to improve his temper. Divinity’s words echoed in his head. The most important summons of your career. Kagan snorted, kicking ice chunks down the curb with his frozen toes. Not likely.
A gust caught the edge of his target’s craterous hood and tipped it backward. Chestnut curls tumbled out in riotous chaos. The long strands blew wild, and his mind dredged up a line from a favorite Yeats poem: Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams. Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round. Kagan shook his head and snorted. Cristo! He was getting senile. A strange tingle drifted through his gut and his lips pursed. Not the buzz of another immortal. Something different. Odd.
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Be on the lookout for Traci Douglass's next book, Seal of Surrender, coming May 2013
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