There's no danger greater than falling for your enemy...
Mariel keeps herself shrouded in secrets, using them to hide her true self. For she is not just employed by the Renegades--enemy fallen angels—she is a double agent, working on the sly for Heaven. Her directive is to seduce the gorgeous Nephilim—despite her insecurity about such sensual acts.
For Mariel is playing a dangerous game, and falling for Kas could only cause trouble; her assignment isn't just seduction. It's destruction.
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The Nephilim grabbed Mariel's shoulder and squeezed. “You’re coming with me.”
Training instincts kicked in. She slammed her elbow into his abdomen and cracked the back of her fist into his throat. Kasdeja coughed but recovered too quickly. He reached for her again, and she blocked his arm with hers. He switched to his other arm, and she matched the move.
She had once fought demons on the plains of Damascus. She’d hunted dark elves in their underground cities. She’d survived the ambush that had left her team—her friends— dead. No way on earth would a lone Nephilim bring her down.
Desperation fed her, and Mariel pressed her attack, but suppressed her strength. If she could do some damage, she’d make it back to the Renegades while Kasdeja remained alive. She spun a roundhouse kick toward the half angel’s stomach, but he knocked her leg aside. He smoothly dodged her punches but purposely avoided leveling a few of his own.
She grappled for a way to end the fight. This was a mistake, and she wondered why she refused to cause him unnecessary harm. Feigning a jab to the left, she struck his face on the right. His head snapped to the side, his long, loose hair flying. A lucky hit.?
Kasdeja swept one of her legs. Twisting, she narrowly missed a face-plant into the pavement and rolled away from his boot before it collided with her side.
The fight had moved them deeper into the parking lot. Half a dozen cars and trucks, parked inside and outside the painted lines, made maneuvering dicey. The Nephilim’s arm came around faster than she expected and slapped her into a spin.
Mariel reached toward the blades hidden in her boots but changed her mind. She stared at him and caught the stormy menace in his eyes. Distracted, she failed to avoid the back of his arm as it drove into her stomach.
The air whooshed from her lungs and Kasdeja pressed in, not giving her time to regain a breath. He locked his large hands over her wrists, lifted her off her feet, and shoved her, suspended by her wrists, against a brick wall. A sunburst exploded behind her eyes. Agony blasted through her body and escaped her mouth in a sharp cry.
“Damn you. I should bury you,” the assassin said in a choppy voice.
Meet Tricia
Raised in Detroit, Tricia graduated with a BA degree from the nationally acclaimed Journalism Institute for Media Diversity at Wayne State University. She earned a Masters of Liberal Studies – Creative Writing degree from Southern Methodist University and will obtain a Masters of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in 2017.
Diversity in genre fiction is dear to Tricia’s heart. She is represented by Laurie McLean, co-founder of Fuse Literary Agency.
When not writing, Tricia can be found reading, lifting weights, or geeking out over games, movies, and music. She has a Tom Hiddleston obsession, and she is Team Vader. Her family includes three Great Danes (so far).
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