Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) by Felicity Heaton Page B

struggling to breathe as it all overwhelmed him and afraid he would taint her with his impurity, passing all of his black sins on to her somehow.
    “Nevar?” she whispered, her voice a soft soothing melody that reached out to him, bathing him in warmth that chased the chill from his skin. “You are unwell again.”
    He nodded and dug his fingers into his white hair, hanging his head in shame. He hated her seeing him like this, a weak and despicable creature. A mess. A man destroyed by his own stupid actions and his own weak nature.
    Her warm fingers caressed the bare strip of skin between the back plate of his armour and his hip pieces, stroking across his spine as she moved around him. They drifted over his hip, stealing all of his focus without him knowing it, drawing it all to her and away from himself.
    She floated into view, an ethereal thing, more fantasy than reality to him. Her head tilted, causing the sleek fall of her black hair to clear her shoulder as she dipped lower, bringing her face into his field of vision. Her hazel eyes found his and she smiled, her rosy lips curving sweetly. There was no curiosity in her gaze this time. No distance held between them. She wasn’t looking at him from afar, studying him as if he were nothing more than a stranger to her, one with an affliction that interested her.
    She was looking at him as if he meant something and she desired to help him.
    As if she knew her touch was black magic and stole his suffering away.
    She lifted her hands to his face and cupped both cheeks. “Tell me what plagues you.”
    He shook his head. He would never tell her such dreadful things. Asmodeus had been right. If she knew his bloody history, she would view him with different eyes, ones devoid of the light he was coming to crave seeing in them.
    Her smile faltered but she rallied. “I only want to help you.”
    He knew that but he still couldn’t bring himself to confess his sins to her.
    “Erin.” A deep male voice boomed across the island, a note of warning in the low growl.
    “I want to see her,” a lighter female voice replied and his heart jerked in his chest and he shot back, away from Lysia, and swiftly turned to face the owner of it.
    Erin strode across the white sand, her black summer dress fluttering around her thighs and her bare feet eating up the distance between them. Her short black bob bounced with every determined stride, the red stripe down the right hand side shining brightly in the morning light.
    Her formidable husband followed her, the ex-Hell’s angel growling as his eyes blazed gold edged with crimson, a sign he was on the verge of unleashing his other side and his anger on the world. His long legs gave him an advantage over Erin, carrying him faster across the sand, but it wasn’t quick enough for the angel’s liking. He beat crimson wings, the sudden blast of wind sending sand in all directions and tousling his overlong scarlet hair, and closed the distance between him and Erin.
    Erin disappeared and reappeared further ahead of him.
    “Goddammit, Sweetheart, will you give it a rest?” the immense male growled and beat his wings again, catching up with her.
    Erin smiled wickedly, clearly enjoying annoying her husband, and her amber gaze met Nevar’s.
    He shrank back and cast his gaze down at his boots.
    She huffed and only stopped walking when she was practically toe-to-toe with him. “Are you still refusing to look at me?”
    He closed his eyes.
    “You don’t even want to see the baby?”
    That gave him pause. He hadn’t seen the child yet, had thought he wouldn’t be welcome near it. She wanted him to meet the tiny babe?
    She trusted him near it?
    He opened his eyes and sought the answer in hers. She smiled at him and looked to her left.
    Veiron stood there, towering several inches taller than Nevar, his broad chest bare and his thickly muscled arms held closed over it. Nevar frowned. Not closed over it. Closed protectively over a black swathed