Death’s Angel – New Orleans Christmas Read Online ChaShiree M

Categories Genre: Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 9772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 49(@200wpm)___ 39(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)

What do you get when a Death Angel from the underworld and a Heavenly creature is destined to be together? Short smutty goodness, of course.

Crane, son of Lucifer, has been collecting souls and dropping them at hell’s gates for two hundred years. It’s his punishment for the life he led. He deserves it and he doesn’t fight it.
Luminesce died at the pure innocent age of 18 in 1928 and she is destined to stay as she was when she died. A virgin. Untouched and longing for something more.

When these two cross paths, unbeknownst to them, their souls recognize one another and they both begin to wane, vanish and dull under the unrecognized angst inside of them. When they realize what is missing, nothing will stop these two from finding one another and surrendering to lust and need. Of course, there will be babies. It is a paranormal romance, after all, silly!!!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“Please, Mr. Farlow. I have been working night and day to make coins for shelter. The baas have cut my earnings. This is all I got. I have to make sure my family eats.” Such a puny man, shaking, trying to tell me why he doesn’t have his shillings. Sneering in his face, I grab the order from my pocket with a nail and mallet. “Please. My bairns and wife.”

“Pity them being chained to such a meater. You have until dusk.” I order him and turn away. Fucking coward.

I have finished all my collections for the day and now I need a bēor. “Barkeep,” I demand slamming my hand on the counter as I sit down in the tavern next door to my last stop. He comes right over and slides the goblet to me. I look around, always watching my back. In the collections business, a foe is not unheard of. “Danke,” I say to him, raising my goblet before taking a drink.

I have no idea how long I sit on the stool, downing drink after drink, before I know something is amiss. “Are you alright there, donkey?” The barkeep asks with vinegar in his voice. I should maim him for calling me a donkey, but the room is spinning.

I attempt to get up and fall to the floor. “What is this? What have you done?” I call out trying to grasp what is happening. I can see the faces of those staring at me, not daring to come to my aide. No. Of course they won’t. I am the one who sullies their lives. My blood begins to burn, searing me from the inside out. My heart rate is booming. Thumping like a drum over and over. I can hear it in my ears.

“Ye deserve no less,” is the last thing I hear before my vision starts to fade. I can’t find it in me to be wroth. The lucky fools. They finally got rid of me.

The Collector has been snuffed.

It never occurred to me what my collector would think of me, when my light was extinguished.




“Crane.” Grunting, I turn and look at the ugly face of my comrade Gherkin. “Crane, you're wanted in the roundtable room.” Nodding, I turn and walk that way. “Don’t you want to know what for?” he calls after me. I don’t stop or acknowledge his question. I don’t need to know what for. The boss calls for me and I go. That is how it always has been since I was sent here upon my death, and it is how it will be for Eternity.

The long walk from the door to the table is longer than I need to think about what brought me here. I don’t need much time. The fact is I was cruel. Cold-hearted and cared not for my fellow man or their families. I cared only for myself and my own pockets. I never gave thought to the hereafter and if it really existed until I was standing in front of the gates of the judicial. That is what we call it in the afterlife.

Let me tell you it is nothing like you think it is. Everyone pictures white shiny gates and clouds and light. Nope. You walk through a wrought iron gate, and stand before a panel of judges, if you will. They go through the list of your transgressions and your good deeds. Let’s just say, mine did not even out. Then you are asked what you have to say for yourself. I couldn’t find the words. That’s not true. I think I just figured it would do no good. So, my judgment was handed down and I was sent right. Through the dark gates.

Once I was in Purgatory, I was stripped of my Earthly self and given a chain to wear around my neck. This chain symbolizes my place amongst the vile and wretched. It is my bondage. My Eternity in Hell and in between. I was handed my assignment and I felt nothing. Angel of Death. All I could think was how it was more of the same. Right? That is essentially what I was alive. I was the person that put families out of their homes, thus thrusting them into poverty and homelessness and for some, that led to death.

Now Hell, it is exactly as you picture it. Dark, damp, hot, and bleak. Nobody smiles. There is no happiness. Did I mention that when they stripped me of what humanity I had left, I was left with a reddish tint. Yeah. I am red, on most parts of my body, and black on other parts. Seems the color you turn when you are bonded, determines your place here. Mine said I wasn't beyond redemption, but less likely to find it.

So no, being at their beck and call is nothing new. It has been two hundred years. Except… Well except since not so long ago, I have been feeling even more hollow. Drained. Itchy, with a hint of anguish on the inside. It is almost as if I was on the precipice of change but missed it somehow. My work hasn’t changed, but my body has begun to… shed, if you will. Not in the reptilian sort of way. No. Like I am losing layers of skin and it is making everything translucent. See-through. It's like I am disappearing.