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LENGTH: Mid Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Jenny Dixon
ISBN 1-58608-918-8
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As a wicked presence darkens the once peaceful lands of the Willows, Princess Aryel is plunged into a world of terror, greed and brutal acts of suffering. Evil has invaded her homeland, holding her hostage and cutting the very life from her body. She prays for a release that only death can bring to her but knows that if she dies, her people will die as well. She must steel her heart against everything she has come to love, finally giving into the dissolute wrath and the deep consuming hatred that has blackened her own soul.

Prince Krenan, the Wolf Prince, has spent his life searching for a woman who has appeared in his dreams since he was a child. Not knowing if she is real or just a figment of his imagination, her beauty leaves him unsettled, making him desperate to locate this one woman who would make his life complete. And when he does find her during a cruel twist of fate, he realizes that she is much more than what he could have ever imagined. Overpowering any obstacles in his path to be by her side, he vows that he will have this lady as his own.

As war rages and injustice bounds across the land, the Wolf Prince will give up his own life for a love that runs deep within his veins…but Aryel must make a crucial decision; one that may ultimately destroy a frail love that has only just begun to flourish.

Rating: Contains graphic violence, adult language and situations, and explicit sexual content.

Seven Kingdoms

BLOOD OF ANGELS

By

Kenna Fallon

© copyright June 2006, Kenna Fallon

Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright June 2006

ISBN 1-58608-918-8

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Prologue

“Once, a long time ago, in a place as mystical as our dreams, there was a land that held rich fields overflowing with an abundance of grain, streams and rivers with the clearest of water and the sun always shining overhead. It was a place truly blessed by God and each of His Saints. This was the chosen land of the heavens that housed a peaceful village of men, women, and children.

“Until the day They came.

“They came with their swords flashing, ugly faces showing evil grins of blackened teeth and rot, their bodies unclean with a stench that overpowered the sweet smell of herbs and flowers. Unclean thoughts filled their evil minds, and raping the women along with murdering the men and children, They rampaged the land for what seemed like an eternity.

“But, hidden in the dense forest that surrounded the once-peaceful place, many of the people escaped from the evil that had blackened their happy lives. Living on what could be pillaged from the land, the children became wise to the harsh reality of true hell and damnation, surviving the perils of all the elements. And when the time came, a few years later, for them to take back what was rightfully theirs, the men and women swooped down upon the evil in the dark of night. The Saints had whispered to the people that the moon’s light would be shielded by their very own hands and would make the attack a surprise, taking them all unaware.

“‘Kill the evil,’ the Saints said, ‘and take back thy land to make it rich once more!’”

Wide little eyes glinted in the firelight as Aryel hid her smile. She loved to tell this tale to the children, and it would seem that even the doubters of the group had finally turned an interested look in her direction.

Not that this was a tale.

It really had happened, and she had the withered skin where whip lashes had left marks on her back to prove the point. Swishing the thick braid of golden hair over her shoulder, she folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, reliving the horrible events of her imprisonment ... and the blessing of her rescue.

Chapter One

Aquitania, 441 A.D., Two Years Earlier

Proudly, the man called Krenan stood before the curious onlookers with his head held high. Naked as the day he had been born and made to stand in the deep snow that blew around him in the ruthless wind, his piercing silver-gray eyes made contact with every man and woman in the square. He was memorizing the mocking faces that held sneers and haughty eyes. Some immediately looked away from his intense gaze, embarrassed at his plight by their own hands, while others held his stare with fierce intent. It was the men who looked at him so, pulling their enslaved women close by their sides.

He was spat at by several of the sickly whores who looked at him with eyes deep in hollow sockets, while they gave him blatant displays of vulgar intent, revealing various body parts as laughter rang out behind them. He was cursed at, his body grotesquely beaten, and he was made to endure the vicious, gashing wounds that opened in his flesh as he was pelted with hard rocks and branches. Still, he kept his eyes upon the men and silently prayed to the Saints that all of them would know his wrath.

He would have his moment in time, and they would know his pain.

He was shoved roughly to his knees from behind, letting out a small grunt of surprise that went unheard in the blowing wind. The hard-packed snow and ice around him cut deeply into the skin of his shins and knees, bringing a pain that did not ebb away. He looked down then and saw the deep crimson of his blood soak into the white snow, knowing that the spilling of his blood would bring the armies of many seasoned warriors out of hiding to defend his life.

He sighed.

These people had no idea what they did. But they would.

And he promised himself that he would make them beg for his mercy.

All of them.

His long, auburn hair slid over his shoulders to land in blood-matted waves over his chest to his waist, covering the hard-edged muscles from the view of those who stood around him. They continued to taunt him, knowing that one man could never defend himself against the many who had gathered to watch his demise.

His muscles tightened suddenly when his keen senses honed in on the blow that was to come, hearing the swish of the weapon coming from behind. With no way to defend himself, but knowing that the strike would be numbing, he closed his eyes and began to plead to the Saints that they keep him alive long enough to get to the girl he had seen in his imaginings. The woman with hair the color of the sun and eyes the blue of the sky. The one who had haunted his dreams since he had been but a boy.

He knew she was close, a touch away, perhaps, but now he might never have a chance to look upon her face or know the tenderness of her kiss.

He slipped easily into his vision, and he gave a sigh of relief as he did so. This was his place of comfort and pleasure, hope and love, his only desire was for a woman he had never set eyes upon. She had never grown old in his dreams, and he had once been told by his mentor that the dream represented his fate, his very existence, for it never changed, time after time. It remained the same.

It was his destiny.

Her angelic face was breathtaking in its beauty, her lips smiling and calling his name, for she was the key to his power and his everlasting existence. She had a chain about her neck, and she was tethered to a post like an animal, but still she smiled. The transparent gown she wore flowed around her like a cloud, and her hair glowed with an unearthly light as it whipped about her, lifted with the invisible hands of the unseen wind.

“Krenan, I bid you to help me.” Her smile blinded him with its brilliance, and just as in the thousands of dreams before this one, she leaned forward as far as her chains would allow and kissed his cheek with lips that held the numbing power of ice. She would then vanish upon a pale mist and disappear completely from his view. But her echoing cries of pain and degradation would always pull a great howl of vengeance from deep within his breast, even as his eyes saw nothing before him.

* * * *

Aryel felt her heart go out to the man who lay on the hard stone floor before her. She could not reach him, except with her feet, and she doubted that her feet would do him any good at the moment. She wondered why they had brought the man to her cell, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. She knew why they did this. They wanted her to see death. They wanted her to smell the rot of human flesh, to know that she was not far behind this poor soul.

She had lived this hell for long months now. Shortly after laying her parents to rest, the evil had surrounded her small community, blackening the sky to pitch. The stench and decay of evil overpowered the presence of good. They had stomped on every living thing in her keep, taking the souls from her people and the lives of those who had tried to fight. She shook her head and sighed. Would her lands ever be returned to her? She dared not hope for more than could rightfully come to her, for if her own opinion was one of doubt, how could it ever come to pass? To have her lands returned to her would be a great joy to her heart. That was all she fervently wished for at this time. That and the love of a caring man would certainly make her live complete. She gave a quiet sign once more. Was it just a dream that she wished for now, something that she could never grasp within the palms of her hands? Something that was never to be within her reach?

Placing her bare left foot over the man’s neck, she did give a sigh of relief as she felt the pulse of his heart, scarcely there, but it was present none the less. He looked more dead than alive, and she was tempted once to try and break his neck to put him out of his misery. She shook her head, and the jingle of the chains that bound her rattled loudly into the quiet chamber they shared. The chains that bound her neck and arms left little room to move, leaving only her legs unbound, for whatever reason they thought it necessary. It did not matter, though, for she could not sit, only stand, knowing that they tried to weaken her reserves. They would release her from the chains for short periods during the day, allowing her the privilege of sitting for a time to eat the meager scraps of molded bread and rotting meat they afforded her. But then she would have the chains clamped about her once again as the harsh reality of her plight wound around her soul.

Fools, all of them!

She hated them with a passion that burned throughout her soul, consuming her entire body at times, wishing that she could have her sword for but a moment. She would kill them all within that short time and enjoy every minute of the bloodshed. She would shout out her joy as their blood would rise to become a raging river of crimson around her own keep.

She closed her eyes and tried to silence her wicked thoughts as the beaten man’s image came to her mind’s eye. She knew nothing about him, save that he was obviously one of the rebels who would not abide by the rules set in stone by Rhyn. He may even have been an innocent warrior, unlucky in his journey as he passed by this place. But one thing was for certain--he had apparently been a threat to Rhyn. Why else would he be here?

Opening her eyes once again, she looked down at the man as she heaved a sigh. He was muscular, very much so, and his hair was long and a deep-auburn color, nearly matching the blood that covered most of his body and head. And he was very naked. Not a stitch of clothing adorned his body, and she felt sickened by the thought of what he must have suffered. He appeared to have been tortured and left for dead, and she cursed the heathens who had done this deed, knowing that soon her own plight would match that of this man at her feet.

Krenan felt the pain as he slowly emerged back into the conscious world. Every bone in his body ached, and his muscles hurt beyond what a normal human could tolerate. He dared not open his eyes, for he knew the pain would send his head into an intense pounding, even more than he felt at that moment. He would stay quiet for a while longer, until he knew that he would be able to withstand the slight movements of his muscles. In the meantime, he relied upon his keen hearing to gather information on his surroundings. He had been in many battles, had been the cause of many a man to fall in death on the field, and he himself had taken the brunt of many swords while defending his own livelihood. It was a way of life. He would make it through this ordeal just like he had all the other times, healing to be better than he had been before. He breathed in slowly and stilled his actions abruptly, holding the breath he had just drawn as a chill ran down his spine.

She was here with him. The woman of his visions was near him.

He smelled her luscious scent and knew for certain that it was her. It was her.

He knew she was the one he had sought out for so long, and his heart skipped a beat. He would finally see the woman, his vision, in full life. He concentrated on moving his body to at least face her. He sensed that she stood behind him, not far away, close enough to touch him, and he felt an immense relief at finding her. Or had she found him? It mattered naught. She was here with him, and he must gaze upon her, to see her beauty for himself and know that his journey had reached its end.

Aryel stared wide-eyed as the man moved slightly and rolled onto his stomach, then moved slowly to his other side, facing her. His hair became stuck under his body, pulling his head back at an awkward angle. She knew it must hurt him, but it probably did not equal that of the other pain he was feeling. She saw his face clearly now, and it brought tears to her eyes. It was bruised and swollen beyond anything she had ever seen before. Her heart swelled, and she wept openly for him. The sorrow she felt at his plight had somehow reached through the hard, outer shell of her heart, for tears had not come to her eyes since she had been a child of eleven. She had not felt this type of emotion since then, nor had she ever felt such grief for another. She had always had the power to protect her heart from such emotions. But not this time. She shook her head. She looked over his beaten body once again, and knew that if he survived, it would be a miracle. She then began to pray that he would heal and would be left as he had been before.

Krenan heard the quiet sobs of the chained woman as he cracked open his left eye. He viewed her bare feet, dirty, bruised and caked with dried blood. Clenching his teeth together, his eyes continued to move up along her slim legs, noticing that they, too, were dirty and streaked with blood and carried a slight blue tint, no doubt from the freezing temperatures that surrounded them. His gaze traveled further, and he realized that she was naked as well, for he could see her woman’s mound with swirls of tight, blonde curls. His narrowed gaze roamed over her flat stomach and then continued on up to her bare breasts. His stomach lurched at the sight of the bruises on the woman’s flesh, and he wondered if he should go any further. He closed his eyes and waited for a moment before he continued on, sickened by the thought of what she must have endured in this hell.

After a moment, he opened his eyes to carry on his observations once again, hoping that she fared better than he himself did. Her neck was encased with a metal band, and as he looked along her jawline and then up to her lips, rage filled his being. She had been badly beaten and her face was swollen beyond his recognition. He could not tell if this was the woman he sought, but he knew that she must be, for he had sensed her being near. Her hair was pulled behind her body, but he could tell it was the same as that of the woman in his dreams and bright as the sun, even through the filth that covered it. And when she opened her eyes to look at him, he caught his breath. There was no mistaking those eyes. The color of the clear, blue sky.

This was his woman, his vision.

He closed his eyes once more and sighed. His journey had reached its end. Finally, after all these years, he would know the serenity he had so desperately sought.

“Can you hear me?” the woman whispered quietly. She waited for a response, and he managed to open one eye. She inhaled sharply.

“Aye.” Krenan’s whisper was so slight that he doubted the woman would hear him. But she did, for she answered him back.

“You are hurt. I cannot help you, but know that I would if I could.”

“Nay, my lady, it is I who will help you.”

Aryel blinked in surprise, astonished at his words. “But how can you do that? You are hurt far worse than I am.”

“I will help you, have no fear.”

She smiled slightly at his clearly delirious words and tried to appease his demented thoughts. Was he mad, having been beaten the way he had, slipping into the unknown depths of the mind that harbored a safe avenue of dreamlike reality?

“I believe you.” She paused as she took in his swollen face and felt her heart lurch at the dreadful sight. “I am called Aryel.”

“I am Krenan. Can you move to my side?”

“Nay, I am chained to the wall behind me. My neck and my wrists.” She shook her head and the jingle of the chains became deafening in the still chamber. “Why are you here? What did you do to Rhyn?”

“Who is Rhyn?”

“He is the beast who has taken over my lands. He appears to resemble the very devil himself.”

“Then I have not seen him. He will repent the day that he did this to you. I vow to help you in any way that I can and to keep you safe at all costs. Do you believe me?”

“I do.” Aryel smiled at him and gazed at his naked body, thinking to appease him with her positive words, even though she knew he would not be helping her any time soon. “What happened to your clothes? Or do you normally have not a thread to cover your body?”

“They took them before I was brought here.” He closed his eye briefly, but continued to talk. “And, my lady, where are your clothes?”

“I was stripped of everything I owned, including the clothes on my back.” She looked at him with a slight smile. “I have nothing. And I am cold.” She cursed then and gave a short, humorless laugh. “Here I am telling you that I have less than nothing, and you are in far worse shape than I am. I am sorry. I do not usually talk about my own plight.”

“My lady, fear not for your temporary plight. I will wrap you in the softest furs, and you will never need to worry about your troubles again. And do not fret for me. I will heal and I will take you from this place that has done you such a sore injustice.”

She contemplated his words and tilted her head to the side. He seemed as if he knew of what he spoke ... but why would he offer his protection to her when he had not known of her before this day? She became curious about this man immediately and wanted to know everything she could about him. “Krenan, where do you come from? And know that I would worry for you. You are hurt, and I could heal your pain if I could use my medicines. But, alas, I have nothing any more. I have only my name left to me, and that is not much use or of any help to either of us right now.”

“Your name is beautiful, and it warms my soul.” His mouth quivered again, as if he attempted to smile, but his lips would not cooperate still. He looked so very tired. “But now I must rest. I will be better in a few days. I promise you that I will help you.”

Aryel watched as his breathing slowed and realized that he had not answered her question. She sighed. At least he seemed to be more coherent than she had originally thought, and she had confidence that he would heal. All her questions could wait for now.

Her eyes traveled over his body, the swollen cheeks and eyes, over well-muscled shoulders and arms, along the flat, hard planes of his chest and belly to the muscled contours of his thighs, calves, and feet. His body, although dirty and badly bruised, was very well formed and that of a warrior. Then why had this warrior given himself over to the evil that surrounded this place? Why had he not been with his men? He seemed to be a leader, most assured in the words that he had spoken to her, and she wondered again from where he hailed. Mayhap he had been separated from his party and had ended up in the hands of the brutes who called Rhyn their liege lord.

She closed her eyes and thought of the words that he had spoken. He had promised to take her from here. But she could never leave her lands. She must stay and relive the terror and evil day after day, until she was able to gain back her birthright and restore it to proper order. The way it had always been.

And the way it would be again.