Jude; The Fallen (The Fallen Series, Book 2)

Jude; The Fallen

Tara S. Wood and Lorecia Goings

Published by Moon Rose Publishing

Copyright ©
Tara S. Wood, Lorecia Goings 2014

The right of
Tara S. Wood and Lorecia Goings to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers; Moon Rose Publishing.

ISBN-13:
978-1-909816-39-8

The Fallen Series

Lucius; The Fallen (Book 1)

Jude; The Fallen (Book 2)

Elijah; The Fallen (Book 3, coming soon!)

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgments

First, and always, to the most supportive husband in the universe….I love you.

To my fabulous family at Moon Rose Publishing: your love and enthusiasm for this project never fails to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m so blessed to be a part of your organization.

Last, and never least, to Sabrina Dahlgren: Madame, I am so grateful for your friendship. I don’t think anyone loves these boys as much as you. Thank you so much for all of your kind words and gentle prodding to get it finished.
– Tara S. Wood

Dedications

To Lori; from Tara and everyone at Moon Rose Publishing, we love and appreciate you so much, and your talent shines through this book.

Chapter One

Lucifer stood naked at the edge of the balcony, hands wrapped around the wrought-iron railing while his snow-white wings unfurled into the cold Alpine night. Eyes bright with the quicksilver of starlight sparkled as the frigid breeze blew in from the north, pricking his pale skin with the sharp twinge of each fierce gust. He didn't care. He loved the cold. Loved the feeling of the chilled air filtering through his feathers, tangling between each one like the touch of a lover’s hand. So much better than the fires of eternal damnation. For the past three months, anyway.

Lesser beings would have called his escape to Earth cowardice. And they would have been flayed alive for it. He chose to call it self-preservation. A personality trait which had served him well for thousands of years. He smirked, thinking of all he had left behind, and everything he had gained in the wake of free will. Where his brethren had chosen to fall, he had chosen to soar.

His time of self-imposed isolation here in the wonderfully icy splendor of the Swiss Alps would come to an end at some point, of that he was certain. The Liar had failed in her capture of The Catalyst, having met her end by the hand of a fallen angel. Scuttlebutt was that The Almighty himself had intervened, restoring the angel Lucius to his former glory. While the tale had all the panache of a flashy Hollywood screenplay, the knowledge tasted like ash in his mouth.

Lucius. An angel he once followed. An angel he once broke. That was comforting, at least.

And as much as he enjoyed the pain and suffering of others, the punishment of The Liar at her failure was not something he wanted to witness. Or experience. The wrath of the Dark Lord was all-consuming, leaving retreat to burn brightly as the best option at the time.

So he had scuttled away, sneaking off to regroup and plan the best way to stay in his Lord’s good graces. And possibly indulge himself in carnal pleasures while he lamented his return. Lucifer’s lips curved into a smile. He turned away from the frosty winds, back to the warmth of the bedroom.

The young woman on the lushly appointed bed was still, eyes open and glassy in eternal sleep. Humans broke so easily. A design flaw which, after a while, became annoying. She was the fourth this month alone. The fleshed simply couldn't stand up to his...ministrations. They weakened far too quickly, and were possessed of brittle bones he had neither the time nor the inclination to heal. It was tedious.

He wanted more. No, he needed more. Required it as he needed air to fill his lungs. Something, someone not of this world. A vision of dark hair and almond-shaped eyes came to him. A goddess.
His
goddess. He could all but smell the exotic scent of her, taste the sweet spice of her lips. Yes, Khemhry was for him and him alone. His goddess would be able to take the pleasure...and the pain.

His groin tightened painfully as he grew hard with want. Maybe it was time to leave Switzerland, after all. A visit to his goddess might be just the thing he needed to clear his head and regain focus. His cock swelled. Yes, just the thing.

With a sharp pain, his bones began to ache, and a thunderous rumbling sounded in his ears. His eyes went wide with panic as the pain came, arcing through him, pulling and clawing without mercy.

Lucifer dropped to his knees in agony as he felt himself split apart, shifting planes.

“No!” he screamed over and over again, fingers curling into the floor with futility. A second later he was gone from the room.

His respite was at an end.

Coriander drew in a short breath and held it tight. She leaned toward the cobweb-encrusted wall, brush poised to carefully dust away the detritus in her way. The painted Sanskrit was brightly colored behind the dust, and she
knew
this was the find she’d been longing for all her life. This was
the
temple. This was the place her father had been chasing, and she had done the same for over twenty-five years now. This was the temple of the Sumerian gods. It had started about a year ago, when she found a tablet and her lucky artifact. The tablet had been hard to decipher, and now rested comfortably behind glass in her office, while the charm hung from her neck by a delicate gold chain. Coriander Daphne Rhodes was used to finding things. She always found things. Whether it was the way out of a tomb or the way into the sunken chambers of Atlantis, Cori always knew the way.

A civilization’s mythology always fascinated her.
So when she found a grave far older than the entirety of Achilles’s Tomb within the bowels of the tomb, she’d started digging. That was how she found the tablet, on a pile of bone dust, along with her artifact. The artifact, she was pretty sure, was the key to everything
big
.

Echoes of sound bounced down to her and Coriander flinched.
Once again, she leaned back, turning her head to take a breath. Sounds meant someone would find her eventually and screw up everything. The temple had been gorgeous, completely virgin territory. Coriander had thrown credentials and money as fast as possible at the Turkish government so they’d give her permission to go into the temple. It was her baby.

The vibration from her pocket caught her attention and she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen. Persephone. It wasn’t the first time her sister had tried to contact her over these last few months, and she still couldn’t bring herself to answer. She let the call go to voicemail, and rolled her eyes as the counter lit up. Twenty-five text messages and fifteen voicemails. Coriander had to give it to her sister; she was nothing if not persistent.

If she was being honest, she would admit that she missed Persephone. But honesty was not her best quality. And there was the small (infinitesimal, really), tiny grudge she was clinging to in the wake of Persephone’s foolish devotion to Veronica. Coriander’s lip curled.
Whore.
She wondered what happened to the devious blonde woman in her absence. Hopefully something painful. Possibly a raging STD.

It had been too much to bear; Persephone’s effortless betrayal of their sisterly bond, coupled with the confusing and infuriating introduction of one tall, brooding fallen angel into her life. If the fallout with Persephone wasn’t bad enough, there was Jude.
Bastard.

In hindsight, she did what she did best. Moved on. She had hoped it would be an out-of-sight, out-of-mind situation, but as the months went on, her thoughts inevitably circled back to the way she left her sister.
And the way she left Jude. Coriander blew out a harsh breath as Jude’s face swam into her vision. It had only taken days for his presence to cement itself firmly in her path. An irritating accomplishment at best. She didn’t want to think too long or too hard on what that quick connection meant. Thoughts like that only led to sleepless nights and small bouts of tears.

Leaving was imperative. She had work to do, and a course of destiny from which she could not be deterred. Her sister’s lover, Lucius, and his band of feather-heads were in her way. And when confronted with the knowledge that the big angel was going to be a brick wall between her and her mission, she altered her trajectory. If she couldn’t move him, she would move around him. She had moved around the globe in fact, finally coming to light here, in a deep, underground temple in Istanbul. It was almost like coming home.

She breathed again, held it and turned. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a drop of water. Without hesitation, Coriander’s brush touched the wall, and she sucked in a hard breath. The dust and cobwebs drifted to the floor. A flash of red glared at her. The Sanskrit looked almost angry as it declared,
“This is home dedicated to the Most Merciful Death, Wife of the Glorious Ba’al and the Most Honored King of Fertility and the Field, Hamma-”

Coriander shrieked as the remainder crumbled.
She sank to a crumbled piece of a pillar, hands to face, and cried softly. Detritus fell from above in a sudden shower, prompting her to reach for her gun and scramble to move out of the way. She sighed as Alex’s dark, curling head popped in, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Easy, Captain.
I’m not worth shooting. Did you just scream?” he asked as he squeezed in.

She put her gun back in the holster, “Yeah.
It fell apart again, Alex. I- I keep getting so
close
. So damned close to the end of it all. I just know this is it.”

Alex sat and ran a dust-covered hand through his hair.
His lips quirked into a curious smile. “You always say that, Cori. The next one will be just as good. Now, let’s go grab a beer. Achmed has some on ice, not that it will last long.” He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers for a second before she grabbed hold and allowed herself to be pulled up.

Neither noticed that amidst all the crumbling dust and frayed veils, a tiny hole appeared in the wall.