Immortal
A Novel of the Fallen Angels
(Sprache: Englisch)
From the #1 New York Times bestselling author who has kept readers on the edge of their seats with her phenomenal Fallen Angels novels, comes one of the most heart-stirring and eagerly anticipated events in that acclaimed series.
The Creator...
The Creator...
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From the #1 New York Times bestselling author who has kept readers on the edge of their seats with her phenomenal Fallen Angels novels, comes one of the most heart-stirring and eagerly anticipated events in that acclaimed series. The Creator invented the game, and the stakes are nothing less than the fate of the quick and the dead: seven souls, seven crossroads. Reluctant savior Jim Heron has compromised himself, his body and his soul, and yet he s on the verge of losing everything...
...Including Sissy, the innocent he freed from Hell. Jim s determined to protect her but this makes her a weakness the demon Devina can exploit. With Jim torn between the game and the woman he s sworn to defend, evil s more than ready to play dirty.
Humanity s savior is prepared to do anything to win even embark on a suicide mission into the shadows of Purgatory. True love is Jim s only hope for survival and victory. But can a man with no heart and no soul be saved by something he doesn t believe in?
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By J. R. Ward
Acknowledgments
Chapter
One
Sometimes a girl just needed a new pair of kicks.
As the demon Devina strode through the Freidmont Hotel s lobby, she was all about the good feels, strutting it large, hinging those hips. In her mind, her thoughts were locked on last-night action. On her body, she wore skintight leather from her double-Ds to her size nines and all the acreage in between. And talk about pheromones if she put out any more of them, her fuck-me aura would burn holes through the paneled walls.
Eyes followed her. Men s and women s. But why wouldn t they? Caldwell, New York, wasn t that far from NYC, and famous people came up all the time from the Big Apple. Besides, even though they didn t recognize her from movies or TV, she was still a world-class beauty.
At least in this current suit of flesh.
Back to the shoes.
She was heading to the revolving doors, crossing that smooth stretch of shiny, creamy marble, when she saw the stilettos and stopped dead. Under a Plexiglas case, as if they were jewels, the pair of golden Louboutins was spotlit from above, and oh, the loveliness: The entire skin of each of them was covered in a million micro Swarovski crystals, until their surface looked liquid. And the style? Razor-thin heels that were high enough to put you en pointe. Tiny toe box to show off the cleav. Hidden platforms to provide support on the ball of the foot.
And the capper was, of course, the red sole, the underside of the heels flashing the color of a candied apple.
It was love at first sight.
Madam, would you like to try these on?
She didn t even look at the man who d materialized beside her. OCD was a disease of capture, and its hooks were once again nailing her in the heart. Even though she had nearly a thousand pairs in her wardrobe, the idea that she couldn t have this particular
... mehr
twosome, that someone or something might get in the way of her possessing them and keeping them, made her chest tight, her palms sweaty, and her blood flutter through her veins.
Madam?
Yes, she breathed. Size nine.
Come with me.
She followed like a lamb, looking over her shoulder to double-check that the shoes were still where she d seen them. Worse came to worst, she could always just steal them
In the back of her mind, a whoaaaaaaaaaa-Nelly rang out. For the past year, she d been going to therapy to try to stop these kinds of tailspins.
Calm the fuck down, Devina. It s just a shoe. It s only . . .
It is not going to solve your problems with Jim.
Okay, now she felt like throwing up.
FFS, what was she supposed to say to herself? She tried to remember the combination of words that was supposed to put this out-of-control need into a healthier perspective, but there was a traffic jam in her system of neuro-highways. All she could think of was, Get it, keep it, count it.
Get it, keep it, count it. . . .
Get it, keep it, count it. . . .
Damn it, this was a big step back. Thanks to that fully actualized, post-menopausal woman with the PhD on her wall and the couch-cushion body, Devina had been making headway with the compulsions. But this . . . this was old-school, and not in a good way.
And yeah, she knew why this was happening.
It was easier to think about the shoes.
The boutique was in the rear of the lobby, and as she walked through the glass-and-marble entrance, the scented air did nothing to ease the burn. The only thing that was going to help was
Was that a nine? the salesman asked.
Devina shot a glare over. Mr. Can t Remmy a Damn Shoe Size had a good suit on and a silk ti
Madam?
Yes, she breathed. Size nine.
Come with me.
She followed like a lamb, looking over her shoulder to double-check that the shoes were still where she d seen them. Worse came to worst, she could always just steal them
In the back of her mind, a whoaaaaaaaaaa-Nelly rang out. For the past year, she d been going to therapy to try to stop these kinds of tailspins.
Calm the fuck down, Devina. It s just a shoe. It s only . . .
It is not going to solve your problems with Jim.
Okay, now she felt like throwing up.
FFS, what was she supposed to say to herself? She tried to remember the combination of words that was supposed to put this out-of-control need into a healthier perspective, but there was a traffic jam in her system of neuro-highways. All she could think of was, Get it, keep it, count it.
Get it, keep it, count it. . . .
Get it, keep it, count it. . . .
Damn it, this was a big step back. Thanks to that fully actualized, post-menopausal woman with the PhD on her wall and the couch-cushion body, Devina had been making headway with the compulsions. But this . . . this was old-school, and not in a good way.
And yeah, she knew why this was happening.
It was easier to think about the shoes.
The boutique was in the rear of the lobby, and as she walked through the glass-and-marble entrance, the scented air did nothing to ease the burn. The only thing that was going to help was
Was that a nine? the salesman asked.
Devina shot a glare over. Mr. Can t Remmy a Damn Shoe Size had a good suit on and a silk ti
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von J. R. Ward
J. R. Ward is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Black Dagger Brotherhood novels, and the Fallen Angel series. Writing as Jessica Bird, she is the author of Leaping Hearts, Heart of Gold, The Irresistible Bachelor, and An Unforgettable Lady. She lives in the South with her family.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: J. R. Ward
- 2015, 480 Seiten, Maße: 10,6 x 17,1 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: SIGNET
- ISBN-10: 0451470176
- ISBN-13: 9780451470171
- Erscheinungsdatum: 18.02.2015
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for the novels of the Fallen Angels:Fans of the Black Dagger Brotherhood clear a shelf: Your next series addiction has just begun. Publishers Weekly
Pulse-pounding twists, a titillating romance, and a darker side of angels that you ve never seen before. a ride that you won t forget. Fresh Fiction
I absolutely loved this book! Darhk Portal
It makes me happy to see that Ward still has it in her to shock the you-know-what out of me. Fiction Vixen
It grabbed me from the very beginning. Smexy Books
Wow. Just, wow...left me almost speechless. All About Romance
You don t want to miss out on this one. Smokin Hot Books
Proves that J. R. Ward s talents don t stop at vampires. LoveVampires
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