Blood Moon Rising

By JC Wardon

Riagan Absalom, Prince to the repentant fallen angels commissioned to protect mankind from the master of demons, must find his Destined Mate before she falls prey to those demonic beings determined to destroy all. It matters not that she's hidden from him her entire existence, until her very life is at risk. He must set all that aside and take her as mate as quickly as possible, to fulfil both their destinies.

Adela, first captured by horrible human men who believe her silver blood is theirs for the taking, and then saved by the very one she had sworn to deny throughout her very long life, is in deep trouble. After meeting the angel prince and having every horrible belief she had of his kind confirmed, she realizes she's gone from the frying pan into the fire. She must escape Riagan at all cost! Even if he is visually every fantasy a woman could have, and more honorable in purpose than she could ever claim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JC Wardon
• Release date: Nov 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996758505

JC Wardon

Whether blazing new trails while building richly constructed paranormal worlds, setting hearts to pounding with complicated, shocking plots, or crafting stories that take the reader so deep into her character’s psyche they will have no choice but to come up for air, JC Wardon pens stories that frequently cross lines, and not just those of genre.Often ominous yet touched by humor, always suspenseful and at times even breathtakingly so, JC Wardon’s novels are filled with mystical and mythical beings who often hold the fate of her very human protagonist in their hands, paws, or talons.A lover of series, because readers get to live in her alternate universe long enough to become residents themselves, JC covets family and romance relationships in her books. After all, there is nothing more complicated for the human heart than living with family, and finding love with another.JC Wardon’s thirteen book Cavanaugh Family series is nearly complete, and most of the full-length novels are currently available anywhere ebooks are sold, as well as available in print. The remaining four novels will release between December 2015 thru May 2016, with the thirteenth book bringing the series full circle, and to an explosive ending!First introduced in January 2014, her first three books, The Cavanaugh Sister’s Trilogy: Mystic Thunder, Touch of Lightning, and Tempest’s Embrace, is a complicated compilation of spellbinding prose making up the Paranormal Romance Psychological Thriller that sets up the next ten books of the series. With high praise and stellar reviews from the nation’s top Romance magazines, these stories take readers from the frying pan into the fire right along with her characters."I would say that J.C. Wardon is a shining new star in the paranormal genre." Debra Taylor, The Romance Reviews"Wardon has crafted a page-turner with the first of the Cavanaugh Sisters Trilogy." Karen Sweeny-Justice, RT Book Reviews"JC Wardon weaves a great story with memorable characters and a small town life found in the breath-taking atmosphere of the Great Smoky Mountains." Susan, Night Owl ReviewsA national bestselling author under her other long held pen name, JC Wardon is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Music City Romance Writers (MCRW), and loves to hear from her readers!Tweet @jc_wardonhttps://www.facebook.com/jc.wardonhttps://www.facebook.com/JCWardonNovelist

Book preview

IN THE BEGINNING, before the time of man, there was a great battle between those angels who believed in One True God and those who did not. At the battle’s end, those who did not believe were damned by the Creator, destined to a life in the pits of despair with the leader of the revolt and master of vanity, Satan.

But there were those angels who realized their mistake immediately. Filled with regret and repentance, they begged an audience with the Creator, prostrating themselves as they asked His forgiveness, even if they remained damned for all eternity.

The Creator looked upon those who had followed what was once His most beautiful angel into ruin. A God of mercy, as their remorse sincere, He forgave all. As a God of justice, He knew a price was still required.

Instead of damning the repentant, God gave each a sentence of eternal life of servitude: cleaning up the wreckage He knew Satan would soon design.

The Golden Throne Room, normally filled with the voices of pureness and light, fell into chaos and wonder as the verdict trumpeted for all to hear. For those few angels who had repented would be known as The Brethren, sheathed in physical form, commissioned to reproduce, and capable of magic. They were to band together, as an elite army of guardians, who would watch over and protect the Creator’s newest incarnation, Man.

Now, many generations later, Satan’s son has risen to a power so deviant even Satan fears him. Natas, the ultimate spawn of evil, is masterminding the cataclysmic destruction of mankind, to prove he is greater than his own sire, greater than God Himself.

With the battle for all mankind rapidly approaching, unattached Brethren are desperately seeking the Destined Mates the Creator designed just for them. These women, once the mating ritual has occurred, enhance The Brethren’s powers, and become the vessels to reproduce the Creator’s future warriors.

But…

The long-prophesied Blood Moons are upon them.

The unclaimed mates have all disappeared.

And evil is gaining ground on the earth.

With so much at stake, The Brethren must prevail in finding their women with all haste, as time is rapidly running out.

Blood Moon Rising

(Book One of the Blood Moon Chronicles)

A Mystic Waters Book

by JC Wardon

Copyright © 2015, JC Wardon

Blood Moon Rising

Media > Books > Fiction > Romance Novels

Romance, Paranormal, Angels, Demons, Vampire, Shapeshifter, Soldier

Digital ISBN: 978-0-9967585-0-5

Digital Release: November 2015

Editor, Gilly Wright

Cover Design by Calliope-Designs.com

Stock art by Shutterstock.com

All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

This edition is published by Mystic Waters Books.

Prologue

Riagan Absalom flew low over the ocean as fast as his large wings would carry him. His heart beat at dangerous levels, not because of his always heightened need for haste in the sleek hawk’s body he preferred for solo flight, but because she was calling to him in a panic that terrified him.

For centuries—no, forever—he had waited for her, looking for her on every continent, in every time period, until finally, only a decade or so before, he’d come to the conclusion he, the hereditary Prince of his people, was meant to spend an eternity without his promised mate.

He hadn’t been alone in his struggle. The majority of his brothers were suffering as well. Though none knew who their mate might be, or what her gift entailed, they’d each had reason to expect a life with that one special female. She was required to fulfill his destiny. Together they were to be stronger than apart. Their individual gifts, once harnessed and sharpened, not only were to double in strength, they’d become enriched with the required male offspring, bearing one or both of the talents of their parents.

The lack of mates and progeny had seriously depleted the angelic army over the ages. An army needed to protect those to whom the Creator gave Earth. With incoming reports Natas was raising his own legion for a major onslaught against all humankind, and with so many of his own brothers-in-arms still without their mates, he feared them all in gravest danger.

It wasn’t to have been this way!

His father, the first of the original fallen who had repented, had been promised by the Creator that a mate would be fashioned specifically for each of The Brethren, without exception. Since he didn’t doubt the Master for a moment, it could only mean Natas and his minions were getting to the mates first. Whether to kill, devour, or rape, Riagan knew not, but each possibility tore into him, as he knew it did his brothers.

The promised mates were of pure heart and body. Mortal females, who would instinctively know to lose their virginity before mating with their destined master, would cost them their place in paradise at the end of what would be a mortal life. If what he’d feared most were actually happening, such degradation would be worse than death to these women. Losing them to such would be ceaselessly unbearable for each of his warriors, as well.

Age held no meaning to The Brethren, except it was their burden to spend century after century in sensual limbo while daily risking their very lives; Waiting and wanting that which they were designed to crave, to master, to feed from, and to procreate with, the latter their most sacred obligation. An entire existence of nothing to look forward to, with only pursuing evil to justify their purpose and pass the time eventually destroyed the spirit. It had happened to some of his men already, and Riagan feared it would happen again if things didn’t change very soon.

Hopelessness was their greatest enemy.

Within the past decade alone, three of his warrior brothers gave up waiting and sought the only escape available to them. They’d broken the first rule and went hunting alone. Seeking the Vamphere they were all sanctioned to destroy. Reports of his soldiers purposefully allowing themselves to be captured in the hope of being slain, was something Riagan knew he’d never forget nor forgive.

He understood the desperation. He’d lived the pain of eternal sexual frustration and spiritual loneliness the mates were supposed to alleviate, and he would still be willing to live so were it necessary. Their cowardice angered him each time he thought of the intentional losses to his ranks. There was no honor in giving up and giving in. There was no good end for those who had. But most importantly, they’d forsaken those who remained—to trudge on, to keep up the good fight, to fulfill their reason for existence, with numbers already dwindling dangerously.

Even before he’d smelled her scent, and felt her need of him, Riagan had decided he would never bow in to such a fate. To live without mates was brutal for them all, a failing that had shamed him personally. But to abandon their brothers was unthinkable!

He, as Prince to his Brethren, had a duty to carry on, to be obedient in sacrifice, to remain strong in the face of whatever befell him. It was never easy to ignore that desperate need to mate. It sometimes made him forget his first and only real function was servitude as a warrior. First to God Almighty, then to mankind.

That their sexual needs were as strong as their objective was pure sometimes felt like a mean joke. The need to breed, to feed from, to share their seed with the Destined Mates was necessary for his and each of The Brethren’s happiness. And for their well being. Those violently sensual encounters would satisfy, indemnify, in all the ways that mattered, and he desperately needed to get to his mate with all haste.

After thousands of years, she’d failed to appear. She’d never sought him. Had never even given him a hint she existed. And now, after he had all but given up, she’d summoned him. Not with the subtle I’m yours scent he’d expected, but with so many pheromones filling his senses, as well as the universe, he feared Vamphere would find her, too.

Which meant he had to beat them there.

Now that he’d found his way to her, there was no way he’d lose her.

Not to man.

Not to beast.

Not to the Devil himself.

Chapter One

Even eternity ended eventually. And in this case, was ending in slow, intense agony.

Finally, after all this time, after a lifetime of service to those who knew not, this was how it was to conclude. In degradation. In this rusting steel vessel which was her prison. With swaying and creaks, the smells of age, dirt, and vile unwashed men, it was clear she was on an old ship of some kind. Those smells, as well as stale sweat and tobacco mostly, almost masked the salty aroma of the sea. Almost. But Adela’s senses were nearly all that was left of her, and her heart yearned for the sanctuary of the ocean’s deepest depths.

Her captors, these men who poked at her with sharp sticks and bruised her pale skin with razor-strap beatings, thought her those demonic beings she had spent hundreds of years avoiding. These smelly animals had tormented and taunted her endlessly for more hours than she could recount. First by stripping her naked and touching her body in places none had ever dared touch. All too quickly they’d moved on to cutting her, delighting in the rapid healing of her flesh, only to cut her again just for the sport of it.

After untold hours of debauchery on their part and horrendous agony on hers, they’d increased the level of their wickedness. Cash changed hands when one of the three came closest to guessing the time it would take for her healing process to conclude, once it commenced. Then more currency was exchanged, followed by rounds of backslapping and coarse language, when yet another won a bet.

There was a slight reprieve when the healing finally failed, after what Adela knew must have been days. But it was short-lived.

Her tormentors decided on a new game. Draining her in other ways. Drawing her depleting blood with one needle prick after another, and suctioning her blood into syringes when there was enough found to do so. She felt the collapsing veins and knew it mattered not to them that death would result. Soon there would be nothing more to take, and then Adela Alicia Bilogea would be done.

Death could not come soon enough!

To her horror, it was not to be. Not yet. They now talked of probing within her, exploring every orifice as if she were a new world to discover. While one clasped her nose and chin, to stretch open her mouth to the point of tearing, the biggest of the three undid the locks at her ankles, and pushed her thighs apart.

Their filthy mouths spouted horrible things; using words never before uttered directly at her, even after all these long years. Their declarations of vile intent horrified her, even more than that of the pain already inflicted. Her distress intensified, as the situation she’d thought could get no worse, now was.

She was a pure! Not something to be touched in a sexually depraved way by these rats of the human race! Sicken to the depths of her soul, Adela prayed for it all to end before it came to this final degradation. She knew so little about the needs that bound and restricted her, but she had always instinctively known, in this one thing, there were lines never to be crossed.

Though not as obedient to her destiny as she might should have been, Adela had tried to be good and decent and noble in other ways. She’d been taught little, but she had known from a very young age, those who chose a life of purity and good resolve were given special gifts to preserve and protect a world of innocent humans.

Centuries had blurred the lines of good and evil in the hearts of humans, though even they knew not of those beings, which could destroy all. Those who had captured her were the worst of humankind. Evil incarnate, their actions proved that. They had yet to reveal their identities or their reason in capturing and torturing her. The only thing she knew for certain, because each man repeatedly called her by the evil name, was they believed her to be the thing that would soon appear to kill them all…

Vamphere.

Earth demons.

The undead of the undead.

These spawns of evil would eventually smell the precious liquid seeping from each wound. They likely already sought her, as her blood scent, meant to attract the male she’d spent a lifetime hiding from, would entice Vamphere as nothing else could.

Though Adela knew her flesh already rotting, the Vamphere would smell nothing but the sweetness of her silver blood. If they found her here, weak, staked to a wooden board, and unable to fight back, they would devour her. And those with her.

Adela didn’t even whimper when the man with the most rancid breath lifted her head by pulling her long black hair at the scalp. Her strength was gone. Her dignity as well. Soon her life would end, and the stories she’d always heard about fulfilling her destiny would come to naught. Not that she had ever planned to go along with the dictates of some man’s idea of her purpose.

Being raised by Mother to All, in the ancient Amazon jungle, where women ruled and men were nothing more than slave or pet, Adela had decided long ago to not only take care of herself, but to ignore the stories told of the chosen.

These women, like herself and her identical sisters, were born with silver blood in their veins, and the men who sought them from far-off lands were neither pets nor slaves.

They were massive masters of the universe. Men who dictated every aspect of the lives of the women they claimed. Making these women nothing more than breeding machines, who would produce more masters of the universe over the course of an eternal lifespan.

Her many older, red-blooded sisters had spoken of them in whispers, but Mother never talked of them at all. Over the course of her life, Adela wondered if it was because Annanette, Annabella, and she were products of one of those males. Remembering Mother’s status and pride, Adela feared her own existence only came to be by nonconsensual force. Though all the rumors were things Adela never had an opportunity to confirm, allowing herself to be captured by these rulers of humankind was something she’d been unwilling to chance.

Leaving her family without word, spending the ages where smelly men ruled the ever-changing earth, to finally settling in Paris a little over a century before, her present predicament aside, she had lived her long life to the fullest. With no master, and only those things to regret, her life had at least been her own.

Awakened from her musings when the man released her hair, Adela’s head bobbed forward, but she barely felt it at all. Blessedly delirious, only now feeling the chill of her dying body, she ignored the sudden argument flaring up between the three men.

With her life so close to ending, with nothing more to fear from those she’d spent a lifespan avoiding, she let her thoughts float back to that time when she first heard of the godlike men.

She wasn’t certain, but Adela thought she’d chuckled, remembering herself a child of seven, in the year 1010. Life had been so wonderful then. Mother permitted her to run as free as any of the animals her juvenile mind could conjure. Her favorite forms were jaguar and the hawk. One could run at great speed and the other fly without the boundaries of the earth. All was less funny a hundred and ten years later, when her body betrayed her as it cried out for companionship.

Still fearful of those whispered utterings, she’d refused to call to the one who would claim her. It wasn’t that she’d wanted to disobey what some said was to be her destiny. She’d just wanted what her red-blooded sisters had. To have choices. To be accepted, and loved, for who she was. Not become a broodmare to some super-macho male with a god complex.

When the callings continued following puberty, Adela steadfastly ignored the natural needs her body demanded. Shapeshifting into small rodents somewhat eased those unbearable hormonal urgings. It was useful later in her life when she lived within large populations. There were times she remained in animal form for weeks, until the urges passed and she was once again in control of herself.

Mother had chastised her often through those early years, though it had always been half-hearted. The woman had loved her unconditionally, but it was clear she hadn’t fully understood what to do with the triplet sisters. Still, Adela had loved the magnificent woman with all her heart. But after that horrible night, when terrified into fleeing the jungle for the equally frightening world outside the Amazon, she’d never heard from Mother or her sisters again. And now, centuries later, with her life slipping away, the loss of her beloved family shot arrows of pain through her failing heart.

It hadn’t taken long to realize she’d made a terrible mistake in leaving the pristine jungle for the stench-filled land where men had power. Their corrupt behavior and evil nature had clarified the rightness of women ruling the world, of hiding from one who would treat her as chattel. Since going back to the Amazon hadn’t been an option at the time, she had made herself adapt. She had survived there all these years by helping women who were downtrodden, abused, and misused.

It was obvious now she should have just been satisfied with her lot, as her present troubles began when she decided to make major changes in her life. Tired of living in a concrete and mortar jungle, she’d begun the global search for a rural setting that would allow her to indulge in her preferred nocturnal existence, without raising the interest of those around her. She’d found the perfect place in what she could only call such a weird twist of fate, she’d never thought to question it.

Her new cyber-friend had sent pictures of a glorious tree-covered mountain with the large lake at its base. The images sent Adela’s heart racing and her fingers researching. Emails flew between them until the thought of a new start, in what looked to be a magical land, felt just too perfect an opportunity to pass up.

Her new friend turned out to be a local realtor, the sale handled electronically, instantly, and with such ease, she’d feared getting to America only to find it had all been a big hoax. How ironic it seemed now, given the mess she was in, she’d been so brazen to think, if that were the case, they will soon learn they have messed with the wrong woman.

At the time—how many days ago was it now?—she’d been so excited. With no reason to delay, she’d booked a flight to New York, to be followed by a quick hop to the state of destination. Everything had been in place. Sparks of excitement she hadn’t felt in years sizzled within her, and life could not have been more perfect.

After centuries of nothing but struggles, that should have been a red flag.

She’d called a taxi to take her to the Paris-De Gaulle airport. Had stepped out of her flat with the single suitcase she planned to take for show, as she never really needed to carry clothing. One of her natural gifts was the ability to conjure any article of clothing she needed, as long as she had some type of natural textile or living plant at her disposal. It had come in very handy when she’d shapeshifted into animal form in the jungle, then shifted back to human form. And it was something she’d been excited to get to do again. Finally.

Euphoria had carried her out into the bustling street where she’d ended up pushed and shoved. She’d been too happy to realize she was being compelled to step sideways. By the time she thought to push the crowd back, Adela was flung between two buildings and took a hard punch to the jaw. Her legs buckled, her body hit concrete, and her first taste of fear in a very long time only increased as a needle jabbed her neck.

She’d awakened to intense pain, staked to a plywood board, as if crucified. Manacles covered her wrists and ankles, attached to heavy chains. As though the men who held her captive believed her still capable of flight. They’d been mistaken. She’d been dizzy and disoriented and had nothing left with which to fight after absorbing whatever poison they’d put in her body. She hadn’t even had the strength to ask them why they were doing this to her.

Giving up thoughts to how her life had come to this horror, Adela closed her eyes and relaxed, hoping to slide into death with ease. She wasn’t afraid. There was nothing left to fear since the men were gathering their hateful toys to depart.

She almost smiled as they continued to argue. Two of the three now feared probing her further might result in them catching something. Or worse yet, having whatever they used, finger or penis, fall off if she was indeed a Vamphere… It was a notion she embraced and had no intention of denying.

Fully prepared to give up her spirit, Adela jolted to the sounds of struggles coming from above her head, followed by loud thuds and a scream so tortured it rippled the very fabric of the air. She willed herself to die quickly, hoping the Vamphere who had come for her would be angry they’d come too late, as she was certain, at this point, whatever blood she had left would barely satisfy their lust.

Chapter Two

"No!"

Riagan dropped to the tortured woman’s side, terrified he was too late. Fury and fear filled his heart as he rose enough to lift her head gently, to push the waist-length black hair from her face, and to take his first look at the creature the Creator had designed just for him. Ferocious pain replaced every other reaction, as he fell instantly enthralled and horrified in equal measure. With the evidence of such before him, Riagan knew the enchantment filling him would never be reciprocated if he didn’t find a way to save her life quickly.

Yet he felt frozen in time, unable to do more than stare into her ashen face, inhale her fading scent, and pray for the strength to survive himself if he failed at the monumental task ahead. With gentleness, Riagan allowed her head to fall forward. He straightened to his full height, looking how best to release her from the horrible bonds.

The monsters had nailed her to a large plywood board, as if her nakedness were something to put up for display. On top of the agonies suffered from this travesty, heavy shackles weighed down her arms, ripping the flesh of her palms even more than the stakes themselves. Her ankles were bound with metal as well, but those chains were not attached. Fearing the reason for this, Riagan shook with an anger he could hardly contain.

Knowing he had to start moving or let her die, he tenderly lifted her chin, turned her head, and leaned in to lift her body, taking the weight off the damaged flesh. She lay against his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder, a limp slight weight that embarrassingly brought his lower body to life. Riagan gasped at the inappropriate reaction, knowing it was only need too long denied. Trembling, he pardoned the beast within him, clasped her to him more snuggly, and took a deep breath to collect his raging emotions. As in control as he was to get, he grasped the stake holding her left hand to the board. With no other option, he jerked it out quickly, pulling her hand to him as well.

Her slight intake of breath was music to his ears, as it was again when he pulled the stake free from her palm. Although semiconscious, and capable of further pain, he was more worried over the lack of blood coming from the large opening in the palm of her hand. Knowing he had to release her from the board completely, he kissed her wound and released her hand. Her arm flung downward, to dangle against their side.

If those who had done this weren’t already dead, Riagan assured himself, he’d kill them again and even gladly again. Dislodging the second stake resulted in another moan, but he tried to ignore it as he grasped her limp legs and lowered her to the floor. He’d wasted too much time trying to be careful. He had to get the shackles off, see to her wounds, and get her to safety before the demons arrived.

He already sensed their oncoming presence from afar, a talent he’d honed after millennia of endless fighting. Another talent was to decipher the magnitude of the beasts by the strength of their evil stench. Fortunately, Natas was not with the ones converging. Which was the only good news. They were coming from all four corners of the earth, and at least one among them was a superior killer. Of this, he was sure.

Riagan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on those beings as well as summoning the help he would need to get his mate to safety. Normally he wouldn’t blink at having to handle four or five Vamphere on his own, but saving his mate would take all his talents, and he couldn’t fight off demons while outside his own body. His spirit would need to be released and able to fly free if there was any chance to move within his mate’s damaged form, to assess and repair the destruction done.

Which was urgently necessary.

A degree of relief came swiftly when several of his Brethren responded to his silent summons as they headed his way. He snapped the metal shackles as if they were made of plastic, before examining her bruised and lacerated flesh. Ignoring all else, he quickly relayed the coordinates and necessary information about his mate’s condition. Knowing it unnecessary, he still warned all were to remain outside and guard the ships parameters, that none should enter the belly of the vessel because of his mate’s state of undress. For any other than himself to look upon her would be an insult to her and, more importantly, to him.

None was ever to look upon the bare form of another’s Sacred Mate. To do such would have once been punishable by death, if the offended warrior wished to pursue such. Now, with their numbers so precious, that was still an option, but Riagan hadn’t heard of such an offense in more years than he could remember. The only exception, in cases such as this, regarded their people’s master healer. If Riagan could not save her himself, he would be forced to allow Malik Abdal to see her and handle her intimately, as his powers of healing were indisputable. Now he’d beheld her, even in this desperate state, the thought of another touching his mate was almost more than Riagan could bear.

Within minutes, Riagan began feeling his warriors’ presence, as they neared at the same desperate speed with which he had come to the rescue of his woman. One response surprised him, as did the velocity with which Lucian Dubrusky approached.

Last he’d heard, his second-in-command was in North America with members of his blood kin, monitoring the increasing danger of Natas’ army there.

It satisfied him his Second had beaten all others to the ship. The Dubrusky kinsmen had been loyal fighters of the undead since before Riagan’s birth and were second only to the Absolom family in line of succession to ruling the redeemed fallen. As a revered, very powerful family in their own right, the Dubruskys could and would take over the leadership role for the brotherhood if Riagan fell before producing an heir. Lucian was now the oldest and strongest of his line and would become the new prince, responsible for not only his blooded band, but also all other angelic warriors, just as Riagan currently was.

It was an awesome burden to place on any one being, but Riagan knew Lucian was not only up to the task, he would excel at leading those who remained. Concentrating on his Second, Riagan projected his thoughts so only