Siren's Song (Legion of Angels Book 3) by Ella Summers

Author:Ella Summers [Summers, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

When we got to Nyx’s office, the door was closed, so we waited outside. There were no chairs. Apparently, soldiers of the Legion didn’t need chairs. They sure would have been a nice touch, though. The minutes ticked by, and all the while Nero stared at me, his eyes hard with guilt.

“Do you regret saving me?” I asked him quietly.

“No,” was his immediate response.

“But you still feel guilty about it.”

“Yes.”

“I would have done the same for you,” I told him.

“Leda, you shouldn’t say such things here. We don’t know who’s listening.”

The door to Nyx’s office opened, and a man with cropped blond hair stepped out, dressed in the black leather uniform of the Legion of Angels. He was frozen in time at age twenty, that same physical age so many of the Legion soldiers were. His eyes were older, though. Much older. Clear blue, as bright as a cloudless day, they had a hard, cynical edge to them, especially as they cut right to me and Nero standing across the hall.

As he turned, I caught my first glimpse at the symbol on his uniform. He was a colonel, level nine just like Nero. An angel. He was a tad shorter than Nero, but wider, built like a bodybuilder. He had an iron jaw, and looking at him, I knew it would hurt like hell to punch him.

The two angels looked at each other with professional disdain, as though they’d hated each other for so long that it was routine, another part of the day like brushing their teeth or waking up before dawn. The angel’s eyebrows, so light that they blended into his tanned skin, arched, and he shot Nero a smug look.

He had numerous swords and knives strapped to his body, and a high-tech bow on his back, one that looked like it could shoot right through those hard-scaled snap dragons we’d fought earlier. But the weapons were mostly for show. He looked like he tore the heads off of monsters for sport, preferably with his bare hands—or with his teeth.

My eyes shifted to the name on his uniform: Colonel Fireswift. So this was Jace’s father. They certainly did look a lot alike, the father a meaner and more powerful version of the son. I bet his wing feathers were blood red. This was a man who rose from the ashes of pain—his own suffering as much as that of others. And he’d pulled himself up on his own, triumphant. So this was what Colonel Fireswift wanted to mold his son into.

After a final farewell sneer, Colonel Fireswift turned and walked down the hall. We crossed the room to enter Nyx’s office. She stood at the center of the room, poised and regal. Her black leather bodysuit fitted perfectly to her slender form, and her high-heeled boots only added to her already impressive height. Her hair, braided and pinned to her head, was as black as her glossy bodysuit, and her eyes were as blue as the ocean.

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