What happens when your most horrific nightmare becomes a reality?


When she is attacked by the very demons that haunt her nightmares, the man from Darcy’s dreams comes to rescue her. Only Ronan isn’t a man. He’s an Angel. And he isn’t happy to see her. He’s angry. Very angry.


Then he proceeds to tell her the nightmare is real. And she’s in more danger than she could possibly comprehend. Not only that, she’s also an Angel and they have to fight the strongest demon ever created — Asmodeus — and stop him bringing Hell to Earth.


The thing is, she has no memory of being an Angel. She can’t wield a sword. She has no wings. And she’s a pacifist. A humble Graphic Designer who just wants to start her own business.


In order to defeat Asmodeus, Darcy must regain her Angel-Power using the chakra power-centres of the Earth, while battling lesser demons and her overwhelming desire for Ronan she feels with every cell in her body.

The ruffled hem of the bulky skirt tangled around her bare feet, trying its best to trip her up. She glanced behind, stumbled, but somehow managed to stay on her feet. She clutched the material at her thighs, lifting it clear off the ground.

If she fell, it would mean her death.

Gnarly tree-limbs reached for her, their branches embracing, leaves kissing. No sunlight touched the ground where she ran. All around was a sea of varying hues and deep, secret shadows. Her feet pounded over fallen leaves, throwing up the musty smell of earthy dampness. Her breath rasped. Rough, erratic panting in sync with her hammering heartbeat. Adrenaline punched her veins, screaming at her to run, be fast—faster than the things hunting her. Run. Run. Run for your life.

Things—monsters—crashed through the undergrowth behind her. Branches snapped with a crack that shattered through the forest. Heavy feet pounded the earth, hooves thumping in a steady beat. A snort. A huff of breath. They were close. Too close.

She turned; couldn’t help the impulse. She tripped on damp leaves. Another snort. A putrid smell rent the air. She flipped onto her back, gasping, heels and elbows slipping on the wet ground, her movements frantic. Get away. Get back. Back on your feet and run, run, run.

The more she tried, the more she slid. A black shadow leached from the darkness between the trees. A face. Sunken, red eyes in skin so black she barely made out holes for nostrils and a slit for a mouth. The eyes trained on her, malevolent. Triumphant.

A monster.

She slammed into something solid. Rough bark scratched her skin. A tree. The monster moved towards her. Thick legs supported its massive bulk, muscles rippling beneath matt-black skin. Claws slashed into the earth, tearing through the leaves. The mandible gaped, revealing thick yellowed fangs, dripping with the stench of awaiting death.

She used the tree trunk to lean on, dig her heels into the dirt and staggered to her feet. The creature hunkered, eyes trained, claws digging into the earth to spring. To kill. She didn’t want to die. Wouldn’t die without a fight.

Her skin tingled with an unknown sensation much like pins and needles, heat rising from every pore, but instead of pouring outwards, the heat sunk inside, merging into her body, her muscles, cells, becoming the very substance of her, colliding into itself before it balled in the pit of her stomach. She burned. Her senses heightened, she felt the air touching her skin, the unseen moisture in molecules, the energy holding it all together. Her body, mind, everything around her was one.

The heat inside was a living, writhing energy. Waiting. Pulsing. There was an urge to push it out, away. It would do as she directed. She wanted to send it out towards the creature so that she could be safe. The heat vibrated, understanding what she wanted.

‘Sephya. No!’

The voice caught her unaware. Her attention sprung to a man, crashing through the trees towards her. The beast leapt, its huge form flying towards her.

Flames arched through the air. A sword; slashing the hulking body in half. The creature screamed, a hideous high-pitched sound, fury and pain rolled into one. Two sides thumped to the earth, separated.

Black blood exploded over the man and herself. An acid burn she couldn’t rub off. Scorching pain sunk into her skin.

The man faced her. Blue eyes, bluer than the Pacific Ocean bored into her. Anger, rage blasted through their depths. As though it were her fault the monster had attacked. She gasped, clutching the tree behind her with both hands as the intensity of his anger swept through her, heedless of the scratchy bark jabbing her back.

The man swore softly and the anger gave way to pure, soulful longing, the eyes deepening into indigo. The sword fell to the ground, sizzling against the damp leaves. The anger was gone, but the intensity—the connection—remained.

Her eyes swept the length of his body. Jeans rode low on narrow hips, bare feet kissed the damp ground. A myriad of tattoos wound about his body. Serpents, their tails entwined, ships on water, clouds, and figures. Each one beautiful and detailed, but failed to hide smooth skin over a river-bed of toned muscle.

He walked towards her, less than an arms distance away, never taking his eyes from hers. His gaze spoke, pulling at a familiarity she couldn’t quite find, couldn’t quite touch. A whisper of a memory floated through her mind, cloudy and indistinct. She wanted to form his name in her lips, but there was none to find.

She’d seen his face many times, in many dreams. But not this close. Never this clearly.

His gaze dropped to her arms and the anger returned. He raised his hand. Cupped her cheek, a movement so tenderly that she tilted her head into his palm. A heated shiver crashed through her body, tingles racing across her skin. His mouth twisted as through trying to smile beyond tears. His skin blazed with dancing flames, rising high behind his back, arching into the sky. ‘Wake, Sephya.’

‘I want to be with you.’ She didn’t know why she said that. Only knew this was a certainty, that she wanted him like no-one else. She placed her hand over his, keeping his hand on her cheek, drinking in the feel of him against her skin.

His mouth turned down. The tears were winning and when he looked at her again flames danced from the moisture in his eyes. ‘Wake, Sephya. I will keep you safe. I promise. Wake.’