By L.A. Weatherly
Willow understands she’s diverse from different ladies, and never simply because she loves tinkering with automobiles. Willow has a present. she will inspect the longer term and comprehend people’s desires and hopes, their sorrows and regrets, simply by touching them. She has no suggestion the place this energy comes from. however the murderer, Alex, does. beautiful, mysterious Alex is familiar with extra approximately Willow than Willow herself. He understands that her powers hyperlink to darkish and unsafe forces, and that he’s one of many few people left who can struggle them. whilst Alex reveals himself falling in love along with his sworn enemy, he discovers that not anything is because it turns out, least of all stable and evil. within the first publication in an action-packed, romantic trilogy, L..A. Weatherly sends readers on a thrill-ride of a street journey - and depicts the human race on the breaking point of a destiny as catastrophic because it is deceptively appealing. They’re out on your soul . . . and so they don’t have heaven in brain.
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Oh, my God, poor Beth. Praying that the second branch would be more hopeful, I turned to it — and felt a strange chill settle over me. Images flashed past, but they were jumbled; any details just slithered away into a cloud of gray as I tried to focus on them. Even so, I caught my breath at the sheer, bone-wrenching coldness of this future. Whatever the gray cloud meant, it felt utterly final, like a gravestone with mist curling over it. My eyes flew open. “Beth, you’ve got to listen to me; the angel isn’t good for you,” I said urgently, my words tumbling over each other.
The world exploded into shards of light as the force from the fallout blew him backward, off his feet. He landed in the grass a dozen feet away and lay there stunned, the wind knocked out of him. “Man, if that wasn’t just about the messiest kill I ever did see,” observed a drawling voice. ” Suddenly there was a strong arm around his shoulders, helping him to his feet. Alex staggered and stared at Cully in confusion. He tried to speak, but the power seemed to have left him for the moment. His head was throbbing as if an anvil had been dropped onto it.
That was always a good one: the angel’s feeding touch causing the very cells inside of her to wither up and die. Or MS, so that she’d eventually lose the use of her limbs and end up in a wheelchair, until finally she died of it. Or Parkinson’s or AIDS or any other ailment you could think of — there was no telling with angel burn; the only certainty was that she’d been inexorably poisoned, and no matter what form the damage would take, the quality of her life would go firmly downhill from now on.
Angel Burn by L.A. Weatherly