I (Heart) Tortured Heroes.

 

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I cannot help myself. I love those tortured heroes.

It must be that genetic drive to heal the alpha, the risk-taker.

Have I got a bad boy for you.

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Back to my Most Tortured Hero.
Danny is a descendent of the Nephilim and a demon slayer.
Becoming a troubling force, he is.
Originating from such a dark place,
he worries Metatron, the mightiest angel in heaven.

     Daniel Tierney and his fellow I-Marshals take down the organizations producing the most dangerous substance in the Alliance. But reporter Faith Vedder turns up at the worst times, including Danny’s near-assassination. He’s had enough of her interference and requires her source of information.

     Faith won’t tell him anything that compromises her Pulitzer-worthy story, not even under the magic of hot attraction. She doesn’t know she’s surrounded by fallen angels at war. Danny’s not finished making demands. She doesn’t understand until a giant, snorting, winged monster slobbers down her back, threatening to flay her.

The gangbusters can’t delay in their mission to shut down gangs until Danny learns the new criminal kingpin of their world is a man who once held Faith’s heart. In the guise of a gangland executioner named Heretic, Danny will destroy him. Even if it destroys Faith. Angels are watching. Demons are plotting. Faith is the key.

***

Outside common knowledge of the galaxy's mortal realm burns the holy war between the angels guarding the Maker's paradise and the demons who desire to rip down those gates, casting all souls into chaos. Guided by the heavenly hosts, only the Alliance I-Marshals weaken the grip of the demon hordes upon the mortal worlds.

***
Here's a taste of the torture in Danny.
(This excerpt is rated PG-13 for remembered violence and Danny's sexiness.
The story is rated R.)

Faith’s fingertip traced the pitchfork brand on his bicep, and she watched a lone bead of sweat fall into the deep scar and followed its path until it broke free.

“Danny?”

“Yeah, Faith?”

“You’re sooo sssexy…”

The bass sound of his chuckle sent waves of pleasure through her when she’d thought he’d already worked her every nerve to exhaustion. He brought her mouth to his and placed a gentle magic kiss of reward to her lips.

Having made love to her again, he’d marked her for all the demons to discern. And she wanted them to know she belonged to Danny. She feared what belonging to Heretic meant.

“I’m tired of hearing people call you Heretic, and I don’t know who he is,” she declared barely above a whisper, her cheek against his chest. “Is he the man I’m sleeping with?”

Danny chuckled, not taking her seriously enough, and he squeezed her against him possessively. “No, you’re sleeping with me.”

“Teach me the difference between the two of you, Danny. You know everything there is to know about me. It’s not fair that I know nothing about you. Everyone around me knows you as Heretic.”

“Only the thugs, Faith. You don’t need to know Heretic.”

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her body, and she gave him a potent plea with her eyes so he would see its importance between them.

“I’ll accept any part of you, Danny. I see why you do what you do. As Heretic, you make the universe more beautiful by cutting the sadistic demon forces upon the worlds. Heretic’s the angel of death in you. I understand it. I do need to know…what turned you into a killer?”

A pause stretched between them, and she hoped he decided she was worth the truth.

“Detachment. And an odd turn of events, for sure.” The tone of his deep voice gave away his self-analysis. His hand went to her arm and gave it a long, slow caress that seemed like a comforting action. “Though it never takes much to push the Nephilim to evil deeds.”

Was this the first time he’d admitted aloud to being of Nephilim descent?

“I’d had problems with losing my father at a young age. I’d started acting out in school, and my mother had been lost to help me. She’d taken me to counseling, hoping the Church would change my path. I’d told them I no longer believed in the goodness of the world. The priest had called me a heretic to disbelieve the Maker was in the creation. I’d agreed that I was. It was a label that had echoed through my brain.

“At thirteen years old, I’d been pressed to defend myself in a neighborhood turf war, and when I’d finished, I’d left bodies behind. Word had gotten out that I had no fear. And I’d learned that reputation could put money into my hands. It had eased my mother’s burden. I could watch people and know they were evil. I’d exterminated those who’d deserved to meet their Maker.”

Who Danny Tierney was became clearer to Faith. He’d been a vigilante for hire before he’d become an I-Marshal. It was a potent revelation in figuring out what drove him. The ability to spot evil sounded to her like an angelic trait.

“No matter how young you are, you’re a man when you wield a pistol in the streets. When I’d been fourteen, the sister of a friend of mine had been attacked, truly brutalized and left in a coma. I’d learned the shot had been called from San Ledra prison in retaliation for a hit I’d made. So I’d ambushed her attackers with plans to end up at San Ledra and finish the job with the shot caller. But the men I’d attacked had turned out to be monsters. They had soon regenerated from what was for them insubstantial wounds, and they’d walked from the morgue, not as unusual as one would think. The now bodyless prosecution against me blown, the judge had more closely studied the case and figured out how I had committed the slayings when the clock had said I couldn’t have.”

She lifted her head and regarded him. “What had you done?”

Danny tossed overlong bangs from his stunning gray eyes. “I’d tickled time a bit.”

“Tickled time?”

“I’d known I was uncommonly fast. It had been the Brotherhood who’d noticed the supernatural nature of it. They’d been seeking signs of the Nephilim in the population. In me they’d seen some goodness where none showed, so they’d ended my legal case and devised a new future for me. The Alliance Marines and the I-Marshal Academy.”

Danny wielded supernatural influence over time. Was that how he’d become the hottest gun in gangland?

“No matter the number of demons I put down, I can never bring back my friend’s sister.”

The pain in his eyes was ripe and unmistakable for anything else. It was an agony that would never leave him.

***

Find out how Heretic deals justice.
Bookmark this page and return after the blog hop.
Discover hot, peril-packed excerpts. Read the first chapter:
http://www.MicheleHart.com/b28-book.htm

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Read and live an adventure.

Have an action-filled day,

Michele Hart

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