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  Lucca: Warriors for the Light

  Bound by Hatred, Freed by Love

  A Fallen Angels Novel Book 2

  Karen Michelle Nutt

  Smashwords Edition

  Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery

  Copyright © 2011 Karen Michelle Nutt

  Art Cover Copyright © 2011 Karen Michelle Nutt

  Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery

  Design Consultation by Laura Shinn

  Licensing Notes

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  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is available in print at most online retailers.

  Discover other titles by Karen Michelle Nutt at Smashwords.com

  Eli: Warriors for the Light

  At the Stroke of Midnight

  Autumn Moon

  Dedicated to my family and friends.

  I appreciate your love and support.

  Lucca Marlowe is half human, half angel, one of the Nephilim. Banished for crimes against one of his fellow brethren, the elders bind his glamour and wings, casting him to the human’s realm. He’ll either learn to respect his human side of existence or live out eternity trying.

  Lucca does not live a mundane life. Angels and demons demand he do their bidding. His estranged father resurfaces after centuries of being absent and he’s brought a friend from Hell.

  To make his life more complicated, he fears he found his soul mate in a human female. Only Juliet Romeo has a secret that will bring the wrath of Heaven down upon their heads.

  It’s a race against time to find out who will end up with his soul.

  “It lies not in our power to love, or hate,

  For will in us is over-rul’d by fate.”

  Christopher Marlowe – Hero and Leander

  Chapter One

  October 1593, London

  Tears slid down Juliet’s cheeks in angry streams of regret. Her sister lay dead at the age of eight and ten after surviving the black sickness, where hundreds perished, including their parents and two brothers. The pregnancy demanded too much from her and now her body lay cold and unmoving.

  Juliet swiped away the tears with the back of her hand. Crying wouldn’t breathe life back into her sister, Marie.

  “I am sorry for your loss.” The deep voice that rumbled like thunder startled Juliet out of her grief.

  She turned glassy-eyed to peer at the man responsible for her sister’s death. “You are too late, Sir Rafe,” she spat, not caring to hide her bitterness.

  The knight was a giant among men, standing a head or more taller than most, a warrior’s body with his thick arms, wide chest and muscled thighs that stretched his tights to the limit. His strong-boned features reminded her of a sculpture chiseled to perfection. His eyes were a light shade of silver-blue, a color yet to be matched. He was beautiful, but also lethal. Rafe would prove to be a man not to be crossed. Yet this man charmed his way into Marie’s arms, a woman who had been timid and sweet. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance before Rafe disappeared from Marie’s life, leaving her with child. Unmarried and disgraced, Marie refused to give up hope for Rafe’s return. She’d been right after all, but what did it matter now?

  Juliet’s gaze shifted to her sister, lying so still, her pallor the shade of blue-tinged milk. Her light colored hair haloed her face. The strands were still damp, a testimony to how long she fought to bring life into the world.

  “The child,” Rafe spoke, his voice raw with emotion, forcing her to look at him again. “Did the child survive?” His gaze latched onto hers, holding her prisoner, demanding she answer him.

  She lifted her hand and pointed to the makeshift bed in the corner, where a swaddled bundle lay among the pillows.

  His long strides took him to the babe. “He lives then.” His words were a hoarse whisper, choked with emotion, but Juliet didn’t want to hear it.

  “At the cost of my sister’s life. Aye, he lives.” Forcing herself to her feet, she went to stand beside him. “Marie named him, Owen.”

  “A befitting name for my young warrior.” Rafe’s large fingers moved with delicate ease, lifting the blanket aside so he could feast his eyes on his son. “So small. So fragile.” His voice held a tinge of astonishment.

  “He’s only hours old. Did you expect him to wield a sword in greeting?”

  His lips curved ever so slightly. “No, I suppose I did not.” His fingers caressed the top of Owen’s head. “He has his mother’s hair color. Her light strands were always so soft between my fingers.”

  Marie had hair the color of moonbeams, their father would say, while Juliet’s hair resembled the warmth of the sun. You are my sun and moon, dear girls. She could hear her father’s words and for a moment she felt loved and safe, but she shook her head clear of the notion. She was alone in this world. She had no one, but Owen now.

  Rafe reached for the baby. He was such a large man, but he held Owen as if he were the most precious of jewels.

  Why had Sir Rafe returned? Her gaze lingered over the small child cooing up at his father as if he recognized him. Then Rafe’s reason became clear to her. Fear clutched her insides, twisting her gut until bile burned her throat. “I made a promise to Marie,” her words spilled out of her mouth in a whirl of panic. She couldn’t let this man take Owen.

  Rafe looked at her, his full attention almost too much to endure with those silver-blue eyes blazing a trail over her features. “Go on.”

  “I pledged on her dying breath to keep Owen safe.” Though her knees trembled, she would not back down. Her chin lifted ever so slightly to prove her point as she waited for his response. Her heart raced with anxiety. How could she stop Rafe if he wanted to take the babe?

  After a long moment, Rafe nodded. “And you shall keep him safe, but you must not stay here. You cannot.”

  Her brows drew together in confusion. This was her home. Where would she go? “You’ve been away for more than seven months without a word, but now you announce your presence, demanding I leave all I know behind. I think not, Sir Rafe. Be warned, I will not be charmed to do your bidding as my sister was inclined to do.”

  His eyelids fluttered closed in a deliberate blink and his voice softened. “It is not safe. There are those who… hunt me.” His gaze touched his son again. His finger caressed the child’s soft round cheek. “This is why I stayed away.”

  “Then why come back now?” Her fear flowed over to her words. Someone hunted Rafe, wished him harm and here he stands holding his babe, who would make a sure target for revenge.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” The candles around them blazed brighter as if Rafe’s voice flamed them. “They know I favored Marie and soon they will know she bore me a son.”

  “How? They? Who hunts you and how do they know where we are?” Her eyes narrowed. “You fool, you led them to us?”

  He shook his head, his eyes pleading for her to understand. “I am not of this world, Juliet.” Her name vibrated in every corner of the small room, like an echo mocking her. The fine hairs on her arm stood up on end. “I think you know that,” he told her.

  Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes
narrowed in accusation. “Surely, you are a devil.”

  He shook his head. “But I am not human either.”

  Her brows drew together. “I do not understand.” Rafe talked nonsense. How could he not be human? Her gaze wavered to the child, wishing to take him from Rafe’s arms and run. A foolish fantasy for sure. Even if she made it to the door, he would be upon them in two strides.

  “You would not go far if you ran.”

  Her gaze riveted to Rafe’s again. “You read my mind.” It wasn’t a question but he nodded, confirming her fears.

  “I will not harm you, Juliet.” His light eyes filled with sorrow as if her fear of him wounded him in some way. “I need your help,” he beseeched her, his gaze holding her still.

  “What are you then, if you are not human as you say?”

  His gaze burned her with power as if he could reach inside her and touch her very soul. Fear threatened to take hold, but she held it at bay. She must keep a clear head if she was to escape with Owen. She shook her head, trying to keep her mind blank. He could read her mind. He may already know her thoughts, which would not bode well. Her gaze wavered on the babe. This sweet child was of his blood. If Rafe was not human…

  “He is also your sister’s babe,” he gently reminded her.

  She looked at him, knowing it was no use denying she’d been questioning the child’s purity. “Does that make him good or evil?”

  His lips curved in a sad smile. “We have freedom of choice. I am not…” There was a slight pause then a sigh. “I’m not evil, not in the way you believe evil exists.” He turned his head to the side as if a noise caught his attention, but Juliet heard nothing alarming. The night lay quiet with only the usual sounds of the wind, chirping of insects, and an occasional hoot from an owl.

  Rafe’s gaze locked onto hers again. “They draw near.” He glanced at his son and she couldn’t mistake the love that shone from their depths. “If only I had more time,” he murmured.

  Juliet didn’t know if the statement was meant for her or for Owen. He stood taller now, those all so silver-blue eyes dimmed before his eyelids slid over them, hiding their radiance in humble submission. Her brows furrowed at the gesture. This strong, tall warrior gave her reverence. “I give you my son of my blood and your beloved sister’s to keep safe.” He bowed, holding Owen in his outstretched hands like an offering.

  She stared at him in disbelief, but her feet moved forward and her hands snatched the child from him, holding him close. “You have my word. I will raise Owen as if he were my own.”

  His gaze found hers again and those eyes lit from behind, the color so bright she wanted to look away, but could not. “So be it,” he said the words like a prayer, binding her to her pledge. Then he released his invisible hold on her and she looked away, drawing in a breath. “Let the babe rest,” he said. “We have much to discuss.”

  She had more than a few things to tell him herself. She placed Owen down, covering him with blankets so he would not catch a chill. She turned to speak to Rafe, to tell him she didn’t need his help, but the words lodged in her throat. A yellow aura surrounded Rafe’s head exaggerating his dark strands. In place of his fine threads, he wore a gray robe. The light from the fireplace danced upon the fabric, making the threads look as though they were made of water, shimmering and flowing like liquid, but the most troubling features were the blue feathered wings sprouting from his back in a majestic display of wonder.

  She shook her head. “No. My eyes deceive me.” Only she knew this wasn’t true. In a blink of an eye, too fast for a human to move, he stood in front of her. Before she could run, his hands clasped either side of her head, his palms on her ears and his thumbs on her temple. It was not a fierce hold, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Light shone around him and his large beautiful wings, the color of frosted blue, shimmering like jewels in the sunlight, spread wide. “Do not be afraid,” he told her as he stared at her. He was reading her mind. She could feel him probing inside her head like tiny fingers moving aside her thoughts, shifting them to reveal all she was.

  He told her not to be afraid. How could she not be when she stood before an angel who could read her thoughts? In a few moments he would know all her secrets.

  “You’ve tasted the blood of the Nephilim,” he said. “This is good. This is very good.”

  Her brows furrowed. She didn’t know what he meant. “I know no… Neff Linn.” Tasted blood? Her tongue felt thick and useless in her mouth. His eyes glowed more silver than blue as his hold on her strengthened. Then he pushed inside her mind again, but a different intrusion. Images, places and people, who wore strange clothing, flashed inside her head like a dream. Only she did not sleep.

  Rafe spoke, but his lips did not move. “I’m teaching you the ways of the world to come, for you may not stay in this time and place. I am Raziel, the angel of secrets and mysteries. I will access the time portal.”

  Stop. She tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. He filled her head with knowledge and confessed his sins to her.

  “I fell in love with your sister even though it was forbidden. I will accept my fate and take the punishment, but I will not stand by and let my son suffer for my sins. You must raise Owen in another century.”

  No. Her lips would not obey her to speak the word, but she shouted in her mind and knew Rafe… Raziel heard her.

  “Do not fight me, Juliet. Think of the pledge you swore to Marie. Remember her. Do this not for me, but for her.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision, but still it did not release her from Raziel’s grip. Marie was gone. Owen was all that was left of her dear sister. At all cost, she must keep Owen safe. She promised.

  Her shoulders relaxed in acceptance, letting the magic wash over her.

  Chapter Two

  Southern California

  Present Time

  Two Hashasheen demons gripped Lucca’s arms as they dragged him out the back door of World’s End, a pub where preternatural beings and humans mingled. The crushing grip on his shoulders forced him to his knees. Kordon, the Prince of Darkness in the Hashasheen court, circled him, debris in the alley crunching beneath his heavy boots. His white hair flowed long and heavy down his back like streams of moonbeams falling to earth. His dark eyes blazed like pools of dark red droplets. His two henchmen stood nearby, waiting for Kordon to give his orders.

  The stench in the alley smelled like something crawled out of the sewer to die, most likely a rat or something just as vile. In a few moments, Lucca knew he might be joining the corpse that lay rotting among the littered remains people left behind. Just think, he managed to piss off the right males all before the Happy Hour folks arrived.

  His lips curved, actually enjoying his final scene in the human realm. How fitting for it to end here. World’s End. Well his end anyway. Stripped of his wings—courtesy of the Watchers, his brethren—he wouldn’t stand a chance against three Hashasheen demons. Dying by the demons’ hands, in the stink-filled alley, would be poetic justice. At least Eli Grigori and his human mate would think so.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have sent the Hashasheen demons after Eli and his mate, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. Rid the world of a Watcher gone rogue in his pursuit of the mythical soul mate, but as it turned out, the elders weren’t so pleased with Lucca’s actions. Of course, Eli had proven his case about soul mates being the real deal. The elders viewed his attempt to kill Eli as a vindictive pretense and not the act of a Watcher trying to preserve the brethrens’ beliefs.

  Lucca’s gaze wavered to the demon standing to the left of him with his arms crossed over his massive chest. The other demon stood behind him. He may not be able to see him, but he smelled the sulfuric odor wafting off him like putrid scented cologne.

  Kordon dictated the private party’s festivities. He stood in front of him now, his gaze wavering over him with disgust.

  “What are you waiting for?” Lucca goaded him, wanting to hurry this along.

 
; “I want my payment, you promised me.” He leaned in close, his foul breath making Lucca want to gag. “Where are the Tomes of Nasarm?”

  He chuckled in disbelief. This is why they jumped him in the bar? The Tomes of Nasarm were stolen by his father over two centuries ago and stored in the Vault, his father’s secret stash of ancient tomes and artifacts. The Tomes of Nasarm contained Hashasheen prophecies, or so he heard. He never read the tome himself. His father thrived on taking what others cherished. The Hashasheen’s high priest owed his father a boon and couldn’t pay. So being the charmer his father was known to be, he slit the high priest’s throat and took the artifact. “Why would I hand the tomes over to you? Eli still lives.” He spat out the blood pooling in his mouth. Must have bitten his cheek when one of the goons slugged him before he could duck.

  Kordon moved away in a huff, waving his hand in dismissal of the fact. “You informed us Eli’s powers were bound.”

  “They were.”

  Kordon whirled on him. “But you did not tell us he had body guards. My people were up against a small army.”

  “I thought you Hashasheens were a tough lot, but I’ve come to realize this is not the case. The small army you speak of consisted of a Watcher and a Darklin. Face it, your assassins failed.”

  The Hashasheen behind Lucca moved swiftly. The demon’s fist met his flesh in a vicious blow. Lucca’s body went down hard, adding pressure to his bruised ribs and knocking the wind out of him. Before he could draw in a breath, the Hashasheen demon grabbed his shirt and hauled him up for another fist-meets-face game of fun.

  “Enough,” Kordon stopped him. “He’s no use to me dead.”