I would like to welcome indie author Kai McCarthy to Novels On The Run for our Indie Author Spotlight. I have a nice excerpt for you to read which Kai kindly gave me. Have a read , this may be a book you would like to read.
Fallen angel? Try risen demon.
Acadia Mills has been sent to perform very serious tasks. Part of the prophecy that predicts the end of the world, Acadia must figure out a way to make it less severe of an outcome. When the only person who can tell her how to do that is mysteriously murdered, Acadia must work with the compelling angel, Micah, whose team is also trying to figure it out.
Torn between following her guardian's orders and doing what is right, Acadia finds herself reliving her human life, where she makes a startling discovery. When everything falls to pieces, can Acadia save the one she loves to find the one she is destined for?
I was a fallen angel. At least, that was the general term for it since I hadn’t actually fallen. Not really. The real Fallen had feathery wings and they were from Heaven. My wings weren’t feathery, but silky black spikes that hardly connected to one another and tried too hard to be feathers.
I reached down and gave the homeless person sitting on the sidewalk a coin. He cringed at my hand and then quickly snatched the coin, casting me a weary look. I tried to smile as warmly as possible. I was beginning to rise when a hand grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet.
“You should not do that, Acadia,” my companion chided me. He turned to snarl at the homeless person, who shrank back and tucked his head in his knees and began shaking with fear. My companion dragged me away from the homeless guy. “Have you ever thought about the Fallen who do not want to be here?”
I ignored the last statement. How could they not want to be here? This place was wonderful compared to all the violence and torture from down there. Didn’t the other Fallen realize the entertainment in watching humans go about their lives and not have a clue there were supernaturals among them? I had forgotten what it was like to be mortal.
“Let me go, Samael,” I said right before I jerked my arm out of his grasp.
He turned and glared at me, but I wasn’t looking at him. My arm burned where his hand had been, and it wasn’t from heat—Samael wasn’t a pyro. No, this burn was due to my attraction to him. Whenever I looked at him after he touched me, I imagined us standing on a hill, houses surrounding us, while he approached me and wrapped me in an embrace, where his wings would wrap around me and end up fitting perfectly into the crooks of my own.
Because Samael was breathtaking. He stood in his six-foot five fallen angel glory, all his features looking to be sculpted from a statue. His black hair was tousled just perfectly without him even styling it. And the only—and I mean only—thing he wore was a pair of low-rising dark jeans, leaving a girl a full view of his chest, abs, and arms twenty-four seven.
“Why are you not looking at me, Acadia?” Samael asked, interrupting my thoughts. He reached to grab my chin.
I jumped out of his reach. “Because you are mad at me.”
“Surely that is not the only reason.”
I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. I was suddenly falling into the brilliant orange eyes all demons shared. There was a weird tingling in my mind, and I realized what he was doing. I forced my arms up and shoved him to break eye contact.
“Damn it, Acadia!” he thundered, the air carrying his voice, as it did when he was really pissed. “Why do you always do that?”
“My mind is no business of yours,” I spat. “You have no right—”
“No right?” he interrupted. “I was chosen to be your guardian. That gives me every right to look into your mind.”
“Only if something happened and I refused to tell you.”
He scowled. He stalked up to me so fast I backpedaled into a wall.
I refused to look at him so I ducked my head.
He grabbed my chin and jerked it up to look him in the eye. His face hovered inches above mine, his grip strong.
“Now,” Samael said, voice like honey, “tell me the problem, Acadia.”
I swallowed. My mind tingled again. “You need to wear a shirt,” my mouth said against my will.
He laughed and I wanted to wrap myself in its warmth. His eyes had softened to a yellow color. “If I wore a shirt, how would I fly, my dear?”
My heart started pounding. Surely he knew, with that endearment. “You could take it off.” I licked my lips, imagining that.
“Yes,” he said with a cold smile on his lips. “You would enjoy that, would you not?”
I vigorously nodded my head. I need to break this.
He dropped his face a couple inches, leaving it barely out of reach.
My heart started beating triple-time.
Samael smiled a cruel smile. “Enough of this,” he said, stepping back and looking somewhere else.
I suddenly felt extremely exposed. I wrapped my arms around myself and glanced at Samael with a wry look. He stood against the wall, resting one shoulder on it and leaving his wing lying against it at an odd angle. His back muscles flexed as he exhaled, his wings rising several inches.
I slowly walked up behind him. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to explain what had just happened, but Samael cut me off.
“We need to go.” He jumped and a sudden gust of wind carried him up and away from the buildings.
I adjusted my tank top so my wings could get full breadth and jumped, flapping furiously to catch up to him. “Can you not use that air to assist me as well?” I grumbled when I caught up, ten minutes later.
He glanced back at me. “Sure. If you could handle it.” He grinned wickedly.
I rolled my eyes. Of course the guy who could control air would tell me I wouldn’t be able to handle his help.
He laughed at my expression and sent wind racing toward me. I tried fighting it as best I could, but I still lost ground. “Okay,” I said. “Okay!” I glared at him. “I thought we had to be somewhere.”
He grinned. “We were not given a time to be there. I was getting impatient with you.” He shrugged. “I simply wanted something for us to do.”
“So where are we going?”
“You will see.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up in a small town outside Grand Rapids, Michigan, Kai McCarthy started reading at a young age. The only books that drew her attention were the supernatural ones. She started writing in middle school. UNPREDICTABLE PROPHECIES' inspiration came from a dream.
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