Read Online For Love of an Angel (The Fallen Warriors Series) by Rosalie Lario - Free Book Online Page A

summery coral with spaghetti straps, a low-cut vee top, and a long, flowing skirt. She'd bought it on impulse last summer and had ended up never using it. After all, where would a barista wear a dress like that?
    Guess he wants me to put it on.
    Well, there was no harm in doing so. She started toward her dresser for undergarments, but on impulse decided against them. Two could play the teasing game Michael seemed so fond of. After dressing she dug out a pair of gold sandals from her closet and tugged them on, then went in search of her Fallen angel. She found him on the fire escape, staring up at the sky.
    He turned when he heard her, and devoured her with his hungry gaze. "You look magnificent."
    "Thanks," she replied, struck by a sudden burst of shyness.
    Picking up the picnic basket that sat at his feet, he held a hand out to her. "Ready to come out?"
    What? She stared at him. "Wait, you don't expect me to actually fly up to the roof with you, do you?"
    "Why not?" He grinned, and when she hesitated, rumbled, "I'll keep you safe. I promise."
    Oh...what the hell. When else would she get the opportunity to fly with an angel? She stepped over the windowsill onto the fire escape and wrapped her arms around his neck.
    Closing his free arm tight around her, Michael sprouted his wings.
    Before she could suck in a breath he shot upward, moving so fast that everything was a big blur.
    "Holy shi—!"
    He touched down on the roof before she could finish her words, and with a blink his wings were gone.
    "That was...something." Letting go of him, she turned around and gasped. The small patio had been transformed by its owners into an enchanted garden. A large trellis covered most of the space, and vines of ivy wound all around it, so green and thick that when she walked under it the sky above was completely invisible.
    He was right. They could picnic here without worry of being spotted by an angel flying overhead.
    Michael joined her under the trellis, opening the picnic basket so he could withdraw a blanket. He laid it on the floor. "Take a seat, beloved."
    She lifted her dress up a fraction so she could sit comfortably, then watched as he sat and took a bottle of wine out of the basket. Only after he opened it and handed her a glass did she speak. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
    He looked surprised by her words. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean"—she gestured at the picnic basket—"all this. Is it just because you want me to come with you?"
     Setting the wine bottle down, he took her free hand in his. "Eva, you deserve all this and more. Don't ever sell yourself short."
    Discomfited, she took a deep swallow from her glass while he filled a large plate with a few slices of the roasted chicken and some mixed greens.
    He placed the plate in front of her and snagged a bite of chicken. "Tell me about your family."
    "My family?" She picked up some chicken and chewed on it absently. "Don’t have any left. It was just me and my mom. She died three years ago. Cancer. They didn't discover it until it was too late."
    "I'm sorry," he murmured. "What of your father? Was he in the picture?"
    "My father?" She snagged some greens. "Never knew him. My mom didn't even know him."
    He lifted a brow.
    "My mother wasn't very social," she explained. "Actually, that's an understatement. She hated most people. A byproduct of growing up with two abusive assholes for parents, she always told me. As a result she was pretty much a hermit. But one day she saw a pretty man walking down the street, and she knew she had to have him. She never even knew his name."
    "So she knew nothing at all about him, or his heritage?"
    "Heritage?" She blinked in confusion. He must mean her father's background. "No. He was gone when she woke up the next morning. And then nine months later came me." She shot him a smile. "She said it was kismet. That the reason she felt so horny that one particular day was because I was meant to be."
    "Your mother sounds like a wise, and very