The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book #2
July 14, 2017
Heaven Wants Me Dead.
Hell Wants Me As Their Weapon.
And I’m in Bed With A Devil.
I was just your average seventeen-year-old girl, until I was Marked. Some may sell their souls; mine was taken. Not only are angelic hunters out to kill me, but Hell’s deadliest Mage—the devilishly charming Crown Prince of Lust—is just as desperate to get his hands on me…again. No, he doesn’t want me dead. This seductive trickster only has one thing on his mind: making me his new blushing bride.
He can call me his “mate” all he wants. I’m not about ready to sign my soul away into eternal damnation, no matter how gorgeous he may be. But after two months on the run, I realize I can’t escape the ugly truth. If I wish to fight another day, I may just have to make a deal with the worst kind of devil. The kind that loves me.
I thought I knew what rock bottom was, but this is only the beginning. As the great poet once said, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
I rolled over on my mattress to see him staring out my side window. “What is it?”
“Your new neighbor’s just arrived.”
Hanna had spent most of the past hour stealing looks, hoping for even a glimpse of the guy in question with no such luck. Despite the humor in Hanna’s horrible timing, I still groaned. The view in question looked literally right out into the neighboring window not ten feet away, guaranteeing zero privacy. So it was official. I’d have to keep my window shades permanently pulled from here on out.
“Sure it’s not just one of the movers? They’re all pretty young,” I said.
Sam chuckled. “Trust me; this guy isn’t dressed for the job. He’s not really dressed, period.”
“What?” Curiosity got the better of me. I climbed off the mattress, joining my friend at the window.
Sam sidled aside and flipped on the light switch to admire my new setup as I went to the music dock, using its location below the window as an excuse to steal a casual look across the way. I didn’t even have to make a song selection. As soon as I touched the radio, Arctic Monkeys’ “Do I Wanna Know” suddenly started playing. I scooped up my phone, which was synced with the device, searching for the song in question. Since when was this on my playlist?
“What’s wrong?” asked Sam, clearly noting my bafflement.
Before I could so much as articulate a single syllable, my eyes instinctively shot up to the window at the sight of movement across the way. That building heat in my chest roared to life, making my knees out-and-out buckle.
Sam wasn’t kidding. My new neighbor wasn’t wearing much of anything, apart from a pair of black jeans that hung dangerously low, revealing the chiseled V-shaped section of his lower abdominals that rivaled Apollo himself.
I outright gawked, feeling my phone slip from my limp fingers. It clattered on the hardwood, but I didn’t care. I just kept staring.
This couldn’t be.
This couldn’t be.This couldn’t be.
My new neighbor slipped on the matching black dress shirt in his hands, but didn’t bother buttoning it. Instead, he simply rolled the cuffs up his sleeves just enough to display the black metallic tattoos brandishing his left arm.
“You okay?” Sam reiterated.
I didn’t move—couldn’t move.
He all so casually looked up, not the least bit surprised to find me ogling at him, and straightened the collar to his opened shirt. That taut frame flexed as he raised his arms, lazily resting them on the top of the opened window. A slow, devious smile pulled at his lips.
Finally regaining control over my body, I stumbled back a step, still unable to peel my eyes away from him. I whirled, preparing to bolt for the door. I was cut short though, smacking into something—hard.
I’d run right into him.
“Geez!” he yelped.
My momentum toppled us over, and I landed on top of him as he smacked down on the area rug.
“Owww.” He winced with a laugh, and I rolled off him with an apology. “What’s with you?”
He couldn’t possibly have gotten over here that fast…
I shot up from the carpet, ignoring Sam’s insistency, and raced for the staircase.
“Don’t answer the—” I rounded the banister, just in time to see my Aunt Jenna pull the front door open. Crashing to a halt at the bottom of the landing, I was paralyzed in place as magnetic icy eyes and bleached blonde hair greeted me on the other side of the entryway.
“Hello, lovely,” Blaine purred.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
writer who feels really awkward referring to herself in the third person….
When she’s not vacationing in Narnia, you’ll probably find her reading,
watching horror movies, spending time with her AMAZING family, or daydreaming
about the newest story in her head.