Welcome to this stop in the
Kiss of Wrath Tour, sponsored by
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Kiss of Wrath
(Deadly Angels #4)
Sandra Hill
Mass Market Paperback, 384 pages
Avon Books
May 27, 2014
Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy
Book Synopsis
No wicked wenches or wild
rampages…it's been centuries since Mordr the Berserker was turned into a
Vangel -- a Viking Vampire Angel -- as punishment for his sin of wrath, and
he's been frustrated ever since. It's not so bad being stuck in
modern-day Las Vegas. What better place to slay Lucipires, or demon
vampires, than the original Sin City. But then Mordr Sigurdsson's
mission is expanded to a new assignment: protect lust-worthy Miranda
Hart.
Miranda's well-ordered life turned into chaos when she unexpectedly inherited her late cousin's five children. Now, her cousin's dangerous husband is about to be paroled, and she needs a miracle to keep them all safe.That miracle arrives on her doorstep in the form of a very buff, handsome man with a very strange name. Mordr wants nothing to do with a red-haired wench or children. Miranda wants nothing to do with a gorgeous hunk who claims to be a Viking.
As Miranda and Mordr give in to temptation, they must decide if they fit in each other's worlds -- before their enemies close in on them.
Amazon US/B&N/Kobo/Powell's/iTunes
Book Excerpt
About the Author
Miranda's well-ordered life turned into chaos when she unexpectedly inherited her late cousin's five children. Now, her cousin's dangerous husband is about to be paroled, and she needs a miracle to keep them all safe.That miracle arrives on her doorstep in the form of a very buff, handsome man with a very strange name. Mordr wants nothing to do with a red-haired wench or children. Miranda wants nothing to do with a gorgeous hunk who claims to be a Viking.
As Miranda and Mordr give in to temptation, they must decide if they fit in each other's worlds -- before their enemies close in on them.
Amazon US/B&N/Kobo/Powell's/iTunes
Book Excerpt
Mordr hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. In truth, how could he speak with his neck nigh split through to his nape? He blinked his eyes open. He was still in the middle of the battlefield. Fighting was going on around him. Rain still came down in stinging sheets. Except for the circle surrounding him where a tall man stood over him. Instead of wearing a battle helmet and a brynja of chain mesh, this lackwit wore a white robe, similar to those worn by men of eastern lands. It was tied at the waist with a golden rope, and his dark hair hung loose to his shoulder. Most amazing of all, a light emanated from the man, like a full-body halo. Mordr knew about halos, having once seen a Byzantine church mural depicting a saint, but that fellow's halo had been surrounding his head only. This must be an important saint.
"Are you a saint?" Mordr asked, oddly unsurprised that he could speak.
"You could say that," the man said, and from his back suddenly unfurled a massive set of pure white wings.
"Bloody hell! An angel?"
The man -- rather the angel, nodded. "I am St. Michael the Archangel, and you, Viking, are in big trouble."
Mordr noticed that the angel did not say "Viking" in a complimentary way. "What do you have against Vikings?"
"You are a sorry lot of men. Vain. Prideful. Greedy. Vicious. Fornicators."
"We are also brave in battle. Good providers for our families. Yea, I know what you are going to say. We provide by plundering, but that is not so bad when you consider we are doing a good deed by relieving your churchmen of the overabundance of wealth they garner for themselves. As for vanity, some would say that your God made Norsemen beautiful, therefore, 'tis not our fault that we are proud of ourselves."
Michael's eyes went wide before he shook his head, as if Mordr were a hopeless idiot.
In fact, Michael said, "Idiot! Thou art in the greatest trouble of your life, and you dare to make excuses!"
"What would you have me do? In truth, I am not sorry to have my life end."
Michael's face softened for a moment. "Your children are safe and in a happy place."
For the first time since he'd come across the ravaged bodies of Jomar and Kata, tears filled Mordr's eyes and streamed down his face, mixing with the blood on his neck. A small sob slipped from his slit throat.
"Weep not for your children, but for yourself. You are a grave sinner, Mordr, as are your six brothers."
Mordr stiffened, as much as a dead body could. "Are my brothers dead, too?"
"If they are not dead, they soon will be."
"Why?" Mordr asked.
"You know why, sinner."
Mordr did not need to think before nodding. "My berserkness. The killing. It started with the assault on Stonegarth, with the murder of my children. I had good cause to --"
"Foolish Viking! Vengeance is the Lord's, not man's," the angel said in a steely voice. Then, "Do not try to excuse your actions. Even if you could be forgiven for killing those who killed your children, and I am not sure it ever could be, there have been so many other lives you've taken. Many of them innocent of any crime."
"I understand why I must be punished, but you mentioned my brothers, as well. Why must you take all of us at one time?"
"Because you are grave sinners, each guilty in a most heinous way of the Seven Deadly Sins," Michael explained with growing impatience, "as are many of your Norse race. God in His anger has decided to use you seven as examples, and --"
"Lucky us!" Mordr muttered.
Michael cast a black look his way for the interruption.
No sense of humor.
Michael continued, "In truth, there will come a time in the future when the Viking race will no longer be. That is the will of the Lord."
Mordr's numb brain tried to comprehend what the angel told him. "How exactly are you -- or rather, your God -- going to use me and my brothers?"
"Ah, I thought you would never ask," Michael smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "God has commissioned me to establish a legion of vangels to fight Satan's Lucipires, demon vampires. And, at the same time, to save those humans fanged by the Lucipires with a sin taint afore they commit some grievous act, a grave sin." Michael motioned with his head to a sight directly behind the circle of light that surrounded him.
"Lucipires?" Mordr asked.
"Precisely. You do not want to be in their clutches, believe you me."
Mordr believed. "You said you would turn me and my brothers into angels. Now there is a task! Turning Vikings into angels."
"Tsk, tsk. You do not listen carefully. I did not say angels. I said vangels."
"And they are?"
"Viking vampire angels."
"Huh?"
"For hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years, seven hundred years to begin with, you would serve the Lord as a vangel."
"Seven hundred years?" Mordr exclaimed. "You mean, I would live for centuries."
Michael nodded. "Mayhap even thousands."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course. You can choose to be a vangel, or join the other side."
"The other side? Oh. Oh, no!" Mordr realized that Michael meant he would be taken by those beasts, slobber dripping from their fangs, their eyes glowing like torchlights as they tried to break the barrier to get at him. "I choose vangels. Definitely."
"So be it!" Michael said, and extended a hand over Mordr, causing him to be lifted to his feet.
Mordr put a hand to his neck and felt the skin intact.
"Thank you."
"Do not thank me yet, Viking."
"Are you a saint?" Mordr asked, oddly unsurprised that he could speak.
"You could say that," the man said, and from his back suddenly unfurled a massive set of pure white wings.
"Bloody hell! An angel?"
The man -- rather the angel, nodded. "I am St. Michael the Archangel, and you, Viking, are in big trouble."
Mordr noticed that the angel did not say "Viking" in a complimentary way. "What do you have against Vikings?"
"You are a sorry lot of men. Vain. Prideful. Greedy. Vicious. Fornicators."
"We are also brave in battle. Good providers for our families. Yea, I know what you are going to say. We provide by plundering, but that is not so bad when you consider we are doing a good deed by relieving your churchmen of the overabundance of wealth they garner for themselves. As for vanity, some would say that your God made Norsemen beautiful, therefore, 'tis not our fault that we are proud of ourselves."
Michael's eyes went wide before he shook his head, as if Mordr were a hopeless idiot.
In fact, Michael said, "Idiot! Thou art in the greatest trouble of your life, and you dare to make excuses!"
"What would you have me do? In truth, I am not sorry to have my life end."
Michael's face softened for a moment. "Your children are safe and in a happy place."
For the first time since he'd come across the ravaged bodies of Jomar and Kata, tears filled Mordr's eyes and streamed down his face, mixing with the blood on his neck. A small sob slipped from his slit throat.
"Weep not for your children, but for yourself. You are a grave sinner, Mordr, as are your six brothers."
Mordr stiffened, as much as a dead body could. "Are my brothers dead, too?"
"If they are not dead, they soon will be."
"Why?" Mordr asked.
"You know why, sinner."
Mordr did not need to think before nodding. "My berserkness. The killing. It started with the assault on Stonegarth, with the murder of my children. I had good cause to --"
"Foolish Viking! Vengeance is the Lord's, not man's," the angel said in a steely voice. Then, "Do not try to excuse your actions. Even if you could be forgiven for killing those who killed your children, and I am not sure it ever could be, there have been so many other lives you've taken. Many of them innocent of any crime."
"I understand why I must be punished, but you mentioned my brothers, as well. Why must you take all of us at one time?"
"Because you are grave sinners, each guilty in a most heinous way of the Seven Deadly Sins," Michael explained with growing impatience, "as are many of your Norse race. God in His anger has decided to use you seven as examples, and --"
"Lucky us!" Mordr muttered.
Michael cast a black look his way for the interruption.
No sense of humor.
Michael continued, "In truth, there will come a time in the future when the Viking race will no longer be. That is the will of the Lord."
Mordr's numb brain tried to comprehend what the angel told him. "How exactly are you -- or rather, your God -- going to use me and my brothers?"
"Ah, I thought you would never ask," Michael smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "God has commissioned me to establish a legion of vangels to fight Satan's Lucipires, demon vampires. And, at the same time, to save those humans fanged by the Lucipires with a sin taint afore they commit some grievous act, a grave sin." Michael motioned with his head to a sight directly behind the circle of light that surrounded him.
"Lucipires?" Mordr asked.
"Precisely. You do not want to be in their clutches, believe you me."
Mordr believed. "You said you would turn me and my brothers into angels. Now there is a task! Turning Vikings into angels."
"Tsk, tsk. You do not listen carefully. I did not say angels. I said vangels."
"And they are?"
"Viking vampire angels."
"Huh?"
"For hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years, seven hundred years to begin with, you would serve the Lord as a vangel."
"Seven hundred years?" Mordr exclaimed. "You mean, I would live for centuries."
Michael nodded. "Mayhap even thousands."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course. You can choose to be a vangel, or join the other side."
"The other side? Oh. Oh, no!" Mordr realized that Michael meant he would be taken by those beasts, slobber dripping from their fangs, their eyes glowing like torchlights as they tried to break the barrier to get at him. "I choose vangels. Definitely."
"So be it!" Michael said, and extended a hand over Mordr, causing him to be lifted to his feet.
Mordr put a hand to his neck and felt the skin intact.
"Thank you."
"Do not thank me yet, Viking."
Sandra Hill is a graduate of Penn
State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer and education
editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing about serious
issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even the darkest
stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four sons.
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