Faith Savage Demon Huntress Book Eight
Genre: Erotic Paranormal, Erotic Horror
When angelic intervention meets demonic rage, Faith Savage finds herself caught in the middle. Talk about tough decisions.
The Message is a Matter of Interpretation -- Belief is in the Hands of Faith
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“In for a penny,” I added.
“The end of a pound,” he replied. “I speak of drought, Faith. And you and I both know that drought is everywhere. Its destructive force spreading and its oppressive hands are burrowing a dry, dark stain across the land, hungering for just one believer. But the fields are empty and the livestock barren. This is a world in crisis, Faith. Drought and hunger and famine are everywhere. California, Nevada – barren.”
“Do not delude yourself. The Four Horseman ride, Faith. Death is all around us. Open your eyes and see, Faith Savage. But more importantly, open your heart. The time is at hand. The proof is everywhere; on every media channel, every cyber outlet you can link into. War is on every continent. Famine. Plagues. I ask you, what more proof do you need?”
“Yes, Faith Savage,” came the thick, rumble of my name, uttered as if God had dropped a ball of thunder off a cliff and waited for the shards of lightning to follow its decent into the sea. “What more proof do you need?”
I turned at the sound, dumbstruck once again by the cool, aloof demeanor of this lethal giant in eighties rocker casual. My heart stuttered while I took in the hands stuffed in the front pockets of jeans so faded out there were holes worn in them. Glancing down, I noted the shoes; white leather Capezios. Today’s T-shirt of choice was once again black, a white stallion blazing across a fiery roadway. Its rider was armored, the cross of God on his breast plate, a demon impaled upon a pike, pike raised to the heavens. The script across the bottom of it read, I’ll Take You to Hell. Gabriel, in all his ironies, stood before me and I was struck with the urge to laugh, to cower and to tremble, simultaneously.
His scent engulfed me in the warm, rich rush of cinnamon, wind, earth and haloed man. The sight of all that caged power in six feet six inches of man-angel standing before me with the breeze that ruffled his auburn hair, twisted my gut with dread. Worry, fear and then uncertainty followed quickly as the frenzied course of my thoughts slammed into me all at same time. I blinked and then blinked again. I took a shaky breath and considered the moment. Considered his question. What more proof did I need? The answer? Plenty.