Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: LemonPress Publishiing
Date of Publication: August 20, 2014
Number of pages: 388
Word Count: 96K
Cover Artist: Tamara Sands
“Her world, her mission…is about to change. What do you choose when your blood is on the line?”
A world where your life is a mission and to succeed you must have resolute devotion to duty.
Seventeen-year-old Anna Hasdiel is a noviate at Hope Academy, a secret school for young angels where she and her sister, Amalie, train to become Warrior Legites with the duty of protecting humans from Demons for the Legion United.
Anna's devoted to the angelic cause.
She's always known she would be a Warrior for the Legion. Her world is about to change.
Noviates have been disappearing from Angel Academies around the world. No one knows why. They just hope they won’t be next.
The Powers send in Legite Nathaniel Deror for protection. Legite Deror is strong, fierce and mysterious. He seems to have it in for Anna one second and the next he’s rescuing her. He makes her feel things she shouldn’t.
They must travel to the home of the fallen Archangel Lucifer, where they will fight past a host of deadly enemies. Where do loyalties lay?
She never planned for this. She never planned for him.
Amalie stood off to the side in a royal blue long-sleeved blouse and faded skinny jeans tucked into a pair of dark grey rider boots. She stuck out big time. Two boys were standing by her sides. I rolled my eyes. My sweet, little sister doubled as a serious guy magnet.
She smiled when our eyes connected. I smiled back before taking a deep breath and mentally gearing up for the fight to come. Everyone may as well have disappeared. They didn’t matter. Not right now.
“Miss. Hasdiel, did you study the blocking moves?” Deror asked, knowing I had.
“Yes, Legite,” I was sullen. Everyone had gotten into the rhythm of me being chosen. Erick gave me a reassuring nudge as I stepped out of line and joined Deror on the mat.
“Good. Are you ready?” He knew I was.
He took the ready stance and I took the self-defense stance.
Another Warrior, I didn’t bother looking at said, “Begin.”
He threw the first punch. I almost fell, but I stopped his fist from connecting with my face. I became his personal punching bag in these exercises.
“Very good.” He was starting off easy. My teeth ground together.
Everyone knew it. I even think I heard Taylor feign a yawn. God, she could be so irritating.
He came at me with a downward sweeping elbow strike. I listened to the whistle as his arm cut through the air like a knife. I pulled back, surprised, nearly tripping over my feet in the process. The elbow strike was a more advanced move than we’d been working on. He was showing off for his legites. There was a snarky glimmer in his eye. The gold hues melted against the green in his eyes. I squinted, angry. He looked more amused. Or was it something else? I wasn't sure.
The last week had been a total mind-fuck, my body quaked with anger and bits of red fingered my vision. Yep, it was happening again. Red.
I executed a perfect, I mean, perfect, high block and came back with an upper body counter attack that would’ve made a ninja jealous.
I knew I should only be blocking, but I was done! A fire burned in my belly, my blood boiled. I'd had enough. He knew it. He made me look weak on a daily basis. He told me how green I was; how I had no control. I was inexperienced.
Was he right? Probably.
But I was going to prove him wrong even if it killed me.
He turned and executed a perfect stepping back kick. I countered with an inside block. His body pounded against mine.
I changed tactics. Jab punch. He blocked it easily. He looked smug. Cocky jackass. I wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. Sweat drenched my hairline. Front roundhouse kick to his chest. He wasn’t prepared for a kick. I could see it in his eyes. We'd been restricted to upper-body maneuvers in class, but I was capable of so much more.
I attacked with a mid-elbow strike to the stomach. I could see the pain in his perfect almond shaped eyes. We danced a while longer. We fought like a thunderstorm raged inside us. Each one blocking, dodging, and throwing punches. The strikes traveled from his legs, arms, head, and hands. Some happened singularly, others with seconds between them. The lightening was accompanied by sweat raining off us. My legs and lungs burned white-hot with the effort. My arms were starting to feel like boiled pasta. He executed a high downward hammer fist to my nose. I blocked him, but not effectively. The guy had eight inches on me. My jaw hurt. My lip bled. I ignored it. He'd drawn first blood. That galled. Blood was the goal. I had combat lust. He suddenly stopped, concerned. He came at me slowly, incautiously.
She graduated from Regis University with a BS in Business Administration and a minor in philosophy.
A life-long reader, Emery has always had a special affection for the urban fantasy and paranormal romance realms.
When not riding horses or writing, she likes archery, hiking and shooting. She reads until her vision blurs, spends time with family and drinks an excessive amount of chai and coffee.
Devoted is her first novel.