Release date: June 5, 2017
Cursed by his vengeful elf ex-lover eight hundred years ago, Tamatsu lost not only his voice but his power, and became consumed by a ravenous hunger for food, sex, violence, and other earthly pleasures. Now he’s ready to make a deal with his former flame and tormentor: the return of his voice in exchange for the location of her missing elf queen.
But the Fates have a way of throwing monkey wrenches into the best-laid plans. After so many years in the human realm, Noelle isn’t sure she can remember what happened to his voice or even what made her mad enough to curse Tamatsu in the first place…
Can she find a way to make amends with the only person who’s capable of balancing her? Tamatsu must also decide if being intimate with Noelle again is worth exacerbating his insatiable appetites. It’s not a match made in heaven, but they could make a hell of a team.
by Holley Trent
Holley Trent is a Carolina girl gone west. She writes contemporary and paranormal romances that have both humor and heat. Find Holley Trent at www.holleytrent.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter @holleytrent.
An excerpt from The Angel’s Hunger:
Tamatsu would have recognized her anywhere—Noelle, as she was called now. Her garb was refined and there was artificial color on her face. Feminine, he supposed, but not the woman he’d known so long ago.
As he peered through the coffee shop window from across the street, he was flooded with the familiar warring feelings of shame and anger and fascination. Feelings angels shouldn’t have been so susceptible to, but he was Fallen. He’d evoked his own misery by indulging himself with human experiences. He’d wanted to feel, and he’d ached in countless ways ever since he’d turned his back on the heavenly host.
He was supposed to have been stronger, but a woman with a wicked smile and an adventurous spirit had both figuratively and literally forced him to his knees. She’d made him forget reason. Logic hadn’t mattered, because they’d been in love.
Or so he’d thought.
Maybe he hadn’t understood love after all.
At Tito’s prearranged signal of shaking out a napkin and rubbing his right cheek, Tamatsu moved into the shadows to wait.
The charming demigod was, apparently, having difficulties warming her up. Tamatsu had feared that. Tito was universally liked. He made people comfortable. If he couldn’t coordinate a meeting, Tamatsu didn’t know what else he could do except to take his chances and sneak up on her, hoping she didn’t use any more harmful magic on him. He could teleport her to her queen, but that wouldn’t have been fair for Cinnia—who’d finally grown comfortable in her isolation—or for him.
Touching Noelle again would stir hungers that were best left slumbering.
“This might take a while, man,” Tito had warned. He’d wanted a way of letting Tamatsu know how the meeting was progressing and whether he needed to approach her in some other way. A deal was a deal and he’d finally found both Cinnia and Noelle, but the fae were notoriously treacherous. She would never renege on a deal, but she could make him wait to fulfill her end.
He didn’t have time to wait. Thousands of lives hung in the balance. If he didn’t intervene, people along the Mississippi River were likely about to experience the most devastating flood event of their lives, and there was no storm on the forecast to explain the disaster. But weather wasn’t always a natural phenomenon. When minor deities flexed their muscles in what amounted to a supernatural pissing contest, mankind suffered.
This time, the collective weather gods were facing off. Tamatsu’s informant—a friend and wind goddess—had steered him toward their gathering in Ohio. They were getting ready—resting up in advance of the weekend’s events, and there wasn’t anything Tamatsu could do to stop them.
They saw the challenge as a necessary thing, meant to root out the weakest of them for culling.
Tamatsu had five days to intervene. Perhaps six.
There were no other creatures with abilities like his willing to interfere. Minor gods tended to be petty, and interference often meant retribution would come later.
Tamatsu couldn’t stop the games or the rain that would come, but he could manipulate the river and shunt some of the water away, in a manner that humans wouldn’t be suspicious of—if he had his voice. He couldn’t speak angeltongue without it.
He paced in the shadows, giving his tensed wing joints quick rolls. The meeting shouldn’t have gone on for so long. It was just a business transaction. She’d give Tamatsu back his voice—and thus the power inside it—and he’d tell her where her long-absent queen was.
Then they’d go their separate ways.
Tito had stared at Tamatsu long and hard before the trip as if trying to read his story on his face, to find any clue that there was more at stake than a deal.
Of course there was. His pride was continuously at stake. He’d endured eight hundred years of shame amongst his kindred. He’d had to have others speak for him, if there was anything worth saying at all.
He was a weakened Fallen one—a punch line to a cruel joke that had never been funny.
He wasn’t concerned with where she went or what she did when they were done. She could find some other angel to fuck over for all he cared. The woman had made perfectly clear how she’d felt. The fact she’d wasted a little of the major magic she had left on stunning a powerful angel was proof.