Awakening Angel Read online

  Eva Brandt

  Awakening Angel

  The Accursed Saga Book 1

  First published by Eva Brandt 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Eva Brandt

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  The cover is for illustrative purposes only. Art by Rainbow Danger Designs.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  The Accursed Saga 1. Awakening Angel

  Let's Dance

  The Guardian

  Fuck My Life

  Wounds

  Confusion

  Confrontation

  Sword of Damocles

  We Call Ourselves The Accursed

  Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

  Not Guilty

  Deal

  Temptation

  Plagues

  Selfish

  Scavenger

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Eva Brandt

  The Accursed Saga 1. Awakening Angel

  Six men, one woman, a curse threatening to tear them all apart.

  I’ve never really believed in the idea of soulmates, but if I had, I suppose I might’ve seen it through the pink lenses of the romance movies that I enjoy more than I would like to admit.

  But movies aren’t reality, and my luck has only ever been of one type—rotten. It stands to reason that my supposed love story and whirlwind soulmate romance turns out to be anything but rosy.

  It takes one single wrong decision, one night of reluctant clubbing, for my life to turn to hell. Suddenly I’m surrounded by shape-shifting assassins, vampires who say they want to devour me, and immortal princes who claim they can’t feel. For some reason, more than one of them seems to think that I’m their soulmate, and that because of that, they need to die. To protect me from some awful, ancient curse, apparently, as if I’d ever ask for my life to be kept safe at the cost of their own. It’s up to me to change their minds, because nobody else seems to have any sense whatsoever.

  Between having to wrangle suicidal soulmates, the mysterious voice that has suddenly popped up in my head and a strange power I hadn’t even been aware I had, my hands are more than a little full. FML.

  Honestly, I really wish I’d stayed home and just watched a movie. How is this my life?

  Awakening Angel is a reverse harem paranormal romance that contains M/M content, cussing, violence and dark themes. Some readers may find certain elements disturbing. But if you’re in the mood for something edgier, by all means, join my insanity!

  One

  Let's Dance

  Lucienne

  “I don’t know about this, Diane. I’m not crazy about the clubbing scene.”

  My best friend and regular tormentor smiled beatifically, ignoring my protests, just like I had known that she would. “Yes,” she pointed out, “but you need a break from your regular routine. A change of scenery, if you will. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to get you laid. Get rid of your V-card, once and for all.”

  I eyed the leather pants in my arms with some trepidation, wishing not for the first time that I’d had a best friend who was less inclined to drag me out into clubs she had discovered on Yelp. I didn’t bother telling her that I had no desire to find a boyfriend and that the whole virginity thing could wait. “I’m not sure a night of clubbing can be defined as a break,” I said instead.

  Diane gave me a pitying look like she always did when she thought I was being more... myself than usual. “Trust me on this, will you?”

  Despite Diane’s insistence and the fact that I did trust her, the idea did not appeal to me at all. I had an article to finish. I hadn’t slept in two nights—which, granted, was my own fault—and I had run out of my favorite tea blend this morning. I’d just found out one of my favorite shows had been canceled. Again. I really wasn’t in the mood for partying of any kind.

  I made one last-ditch attempt to persuade Diane of the folly of her plan. “If you need company to go clubbing, take Pierce. I’m sure he’d love to join you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Diane asked. “I’m not going clubbing with my brother. Lucy, dear, light of my life... Just put the leather pants on and let’s go. You’ll have fun. I promise.”

  Diane’s definition of fun varied greatly from my own, but I had always been bad at saying no to her. Ever since we’d befriended each other in college—or rather, since Diane had insinuated herself into my life with the subtlety and insidiousness of a particularly tricky bit of spyware—things had been like this. As such, I complied with my friend’s request and got dressed in the outfit she had so kindly provided. After all, Diane had a point about me needing a break from my day-to-day routine.

  Fast-forward one hour and my sentiments had entirely changed. I sat in a small booth in the club Diane had discovered, curling up as much as I could in an attempt to avoid a suspiciously sticky spot on the bench and regretting every single life choice that had led me to this dreadful moment.

  Diane poked me in the side, snapping me out of my self-pitying thoughts. “Stop looking like someone drowned your cat,” she shouted over the sound of the obscenely loud techno being broadcast by the speakers. “Get out there and dance.”

  “I don’t have a cat.” I threw a glance toward the main part of the club, where countless patrons gyrated to the music like demented ants. “And is dancing what all these people are doing? It looks more like... a pre-mating ritual.”

  Diane rolled her eyes at me. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a dance too. They’re multitasking. It’s like using a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.”

  “Using a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner is never as good as having separate products,” I answered. Honestly, if Diane wanted to convince me to start dancing, that was not the right method. Considering the way my hair looked like after the use of any two-in-one product, the simile made me want to cover my poor, abused locks and dash toward the exit of this hellish place.

  Diane flicked my nose like I was a disobedient kitten. “Yes, but you still use it if you absolutely need to. Come on, Lucy. You have to try new things from time to time.”

  I had to do no such thing, but I was here already, so digging my heels in would have just been childish and stupid. “Okay, fine. But for the record, I’m doing this under duress.”

  I didn’t expect any compassion from Diane, and I didn’t receive any. My friend laughed at me and said, “You’re also a lying liar who lies. But that’s okay because I love you anyway.”

  She then proceeded to emphasize her effusive declaration of affection by grabbing my arm and dragging me onto the dance floor. I went along with it since the alternative would’ve involved tripping over my own feet in an attempt to slow down.

  Also, Di
ane wasn’t exactly wrong, not about everything, at least.

  Yes, I would have far preferred sitting at home with a good book or movie and a mug of tea, but once Diane and I joined the crowd, I found myself being assaulted by an almost electric feeling. The energy the dancers emanated reached into my very center, stirring dormant desires, automatically making my body move without me having to think about it.

  In less than a minute, I had my arms around Diane, and we were both grinding together, reveling in the perfection of feeling our bodies move. It wasn’t sexual, and certainly not a pre-mating ritual, but I enjoyed the simple intimacy of it anyway.

  As if reading my mind, Diane bit my ear, letting out a joyful laugh that was barely audible over the sound of the music. Spurred on by my friend’s carefree demeanor, I allowed the flow of the song to guide my actions. I didn’t protest when two men joined our dance and sandwiched us in a sort of four-way embrace.

  I had no clue if I’d end up doing anything about the erection I could feel nudging my backside. Maybe I would. It wasn’t like I was saving myself or anything. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to focus on my sex life properly and hadn’t found any men who had interested me enough. But maybe I had been looking in the wrong places because I had to admit that being held by the man behind me felt nice.

  For the moment, making a decision about something like that was premature. The night was still young. I’d think about the option a little more. In the meantime, there was no harm in enjoying the dance, and Diane seemed to think the same because she allowed the man behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.

  Considering how fucked up my life had always been, it stood to reason that, just when I decided to relax and enjoy my evening, everything went to hell.

  I didn’t even notice it immediately. The music was so loud that when the first noises reached my hearing, I assumed they were part of the sound effects. The illusion came to an end when the song died out altogether, as did the electricity in the club.

  Like one unit, the dancers stopped moving almost at the same time. The sound of confused, angry voices replaced the beat, all of them coming together in a cacophony that pretty much sent the same message, how much the club owners sucked.

  “What the fuck?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We paid for a damn ticket! I knew we shouldn’t have come here.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Hey, bring back the music! What the hell?”

  Diane was just as outraged, although she expressed her frustration by shooting me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about this, Lucy. Maybe you were right about this place all along.”

  Normally, I would have felt at least some degree of satisfaction at having been proven right, but at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care about such petty things. All of a sudden, I had a very bad feeling.

  As a rule, I tended to be wary of clubs in certain parts of the city. They didn’t always have authorization, and they were built in buildings not originally meant for such purposes. This particular one appeared to have been a warehouse, but as far as I could tell, the owner had put some effort into making it safe for his patrons.

  Even so, if there was something that I had learned throughout my life, it was that everything that could go wrong usually did. My luck had only ever been of one kind—sucky—so I always erred on the side of caution. No one else seemed all that worried about the reasons behind the sudden blackout in the club, but I preferred to be called paranoid rather than regret it later.

  As such, I didn’t provide Diane with a reply. Instead, I grabbed her hand and started to pull her away from the dance floor. In my haste, I accidentally stepped on the foot of my earlier dance partner. “Hey!” he protested. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, not meaning it in the least bit, and not bothering to pretend that I did. “Please excuse us.”

  The befuddled man let us pass without further comment, or, at least, he tried to. The lack of space on the dance floor made it impossible for me to move around with everyone else just standing there. The glass ceiling of the club provided us with a source of illumination, but that didn’t help as much as I’d have liked.

  The ceiling in question also ended up indirectly confirming my original guess. As I struggled to make my way through the crowd, pulling Diane along, the glass roof broke with a deafening crash. I looked up and watched in shock and horror as several figures fell into the depths of the building, surrounded by a rain of potentially lethal shards.

  The ceiling hadn’t shattered completely, so the range of the falling glass wasn’t that large. It didn’t come from directly above the dance floor, which meant that, for the most part, we were out of danger. I’d have been more relieved about it had I not been distracted by the sickening crunch the bodies of the men made when they hit the floor.

  Fuck. That had to hurt.

  Discarding my previous decision to leave the club, I rushed to the side of the men, already going over my options in my head. “Diane, call an ambulance,” I shouted. “The police. Someone.”

  I didn’t have much hope for the guy who had been on the bottom, as the fall alone would’ve likely shattered his spinal column. Hell, the amount of blood that covered both victims suggested he might have more injuries than my pathetic medical knowledge could identify. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t know for sure unless I tried, and the person on top might have a better chance anyway.

  I dropped to my knees next to them, avoiding the fallen glass as I contemplated my next move. I didn’t want to make the men’s injuries worse by moving them, but surely there was something else I could do.

  Tentatively, I reached for the neck of the man on the bottom, deciding that checking his vitals was the natural course of action. As I did so, the stranger’s eyes suddenly shot open. His nostrils flared and he made a grab for my wrist in a move so fast it should have been impossible for a severely injured man. “Mmm,” he said as he squeezed my arm. “You smell tasty.”

  Wait, what? Tasty? What in the world was this guy talking about?

  Never mind that, how was he even talking at all? His fall should have left him at least unconscious, if not brain dead.

  Before I could figure out what in the world was going on, the man who had landed on top shot into action. He said nothing, nor did he acknowledge my presence in any way. He simply grabbed the first man’s head and snapped his neck.

  The weird guy’s hold on my wrist went lax, something which I very much appreciated. Just the same, I was stuck with my hand hovering mid-air. My brain was running on a loop as I struggled to process the fact that I’d just watched someone get killed right in front of me.

  Other people had seen exactly the same thing because mere seconds later, the screaming started. Some brave soul tried to jump on the murderer and immobilize him. The stranger quickly shot to his feet, as if he hadn’t been the victim of a fall that could’ve killed him. He grabbed the would-be hero and shoved him away with embarrassing ease. Another person tossed a bottle at him, but the man dodged the projectile, letting it shatter against the wall behind him.

  On some level, I knew I should be using this chance to shuffle away from the scene, but I was still rooted in my spot, unable to move a muscle. I could distantly hear Diane calling my name and see more people trying to either catch the killer or get away from him, but I remained a helpless, frozen spectator.

  Perhaps security would have had better luck or intervened in a more organized manner, but they never got the chance to make the attempt. Several more figures fell through the broken part of the glass ceiling, or rather, jumped in, using it as their entry point. They landed neatly on the floor with nigh feline grace, and within seconds, they had surrounded the killer, as well as me.

  “Game’s over, guardian,” one of them said. Something about his demeanor told me he was the leader of the group. “This was all very entertaining, but I’m afraid the show ends here.”

  The killer rolled his eyes
at the new arrival. “Please. You’re far better at making threats than you are at fighting.”

  Despite the seriousness of the circumstances, I couldn’t help but deem the sarcastic quip funny. I always found it amusing when, during such confrontations, one or more of the people involved grandstanded in a way that served no purpose except to stroke their own egos and buy their opponent time. Alas, I didn’t manage to suppress my mirth and unwisely let out a low snort.

  It shouldn’t have been audible, considering all the noise the other club-goers were still making. Somehow, though, the men heard it, and all eyes turned to me. “You think that is funny, don’t you?” Mr. Generic Obnoxious Villain hissed. “Perhaps we should give you a lesson in respecting your betters.”

  As much as I tended to consider overly arrogant speeches hilarious, I also couldn’t withstand them when they were directed at me. “Thank you, kind sir, but I’m afraid I must refuse. You see, I believe there are requirements in teaching anyone anything. Any teacher intending to embark on an endeavor like the one you suggested would have to fit in a certain category of individuals, a category which would make them equipped and qualified to understand the topic at hand.”

  My elaborate response left the new arrivals staring at me in confusion. “What?” another member of the group inquired. “Requirements? What is she talking about?”

  “Are there requirements to scavenging now?” someone else asked.

  “Of course there are requirements,” the strange killer said blandly. “There are requirements for most anything in life, and your little... operation is no different.”

  “I’m not really okay with that,” a third person replied. “I mean, no one said I needed to do something in particular when I agreed to join.”

  Join? Join what? Were these people gang members or something? That would explain a lot. Maybe that was why that first man had been able to move and speak despite the damage he’d taken. It probably had something to do with a drug, one potent enough to numb the pain.