Mia Crawford is a prophet.
She can see angels. She also sees demons. Everywhere.
She knows the angels are preparing for war to get her fallen angel boyfriend, Michael, back.
A war that could take years.
Haunted by visions of Michael’s soul being tortured, Mia can’t rest until she knows he’s safe.
To save him, she must make an impossible journey through Hell. Her only guide is the one person she prayed she’d never see again.
He tucks his wings into himself, but they are still so close I could touch them. He walks a small circle around me. Still a dance.
“That’s very different,” he says.
“I don’t see how. I am human. They are my people.”
He bends forward until his face is inches from mine. “Your mother had passed. You needed me. We’re allowed to appear when we are needed.”
His breath warms my cheek and it’s all I can do not to lean closer.
“Really?” My eyes search his for a sign—any sign—of feelings for me. “She died ten moons ago.” Did only pity bring him? “Why did you stay?”
A light breeze ruffles the leaves overhead. It’s warm but welcome. Michael backs away, the tops of his cheeks lit with pink. He swallows and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat. “Perhaps I needed you.”
His voice is music, and his energy hums through me, making me bold. I couldn’t imagine him needing anyone, least of all me. With a smile, I glance at him and hold up the feathery filament. A small piece of his magic, its light sparkles and plays along my hand, the lines of his throat and jaw, the front of his tunic.
“If I return this,” I say. “What will you give me in exchange?”
“Well.” He frowns and thoughtfully strokes his chin, but his eyes are still smiling. “What do you want? Riches and jewels aren’t mine to command. I am but a humble servant.”
“Can you make it rain? It would be good for my father’s crops.”
“You know I cannot,” he scolds. “Doing so would be interfering.”
I do know, but enjoy the game, the way he looks at me as though he sees something hidden deep inside me, the secret of who I am.
“How about a kiss?” I ask.
He casts his gaze to the ground and bows his head. “Of course. A blessing.” He rests his hands on my shoulders, and even that light touch scorches me. White-hot like the sun.
Closing his eyes, he leans in to kiss my forehead, but I want a real kiss. Not the kiss of an angel, but of a lover. I rise to my toes, lifting my chin, and press my lips to his.
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A Canadian-born author, Lisa Voisin spent her childhood daydreaming and making up stories, but it was her love of reading and writing in her teens that drew her to Young Adult fiction.
Lisa is a technical writer, a meditation teacher, and the leader of the Lynn Valley Literary Society’s Young Writer’s Club, a writing group for teens. A self-proclaimed coffee lover, she can usually be found writing in a local café. When she's not writing, you'll find her meditating or hiking in the mountains.
Though she’s lived in several cities across Canada, she currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. with her fiancé and their two cats.
More about Lisa can be found on her web site: http://www.lisavoisin.com.