Genre: Adult Fiction (Paranormal Romance)
First Published: March 19, 2013
Publisher: GL Hunter
Born in the flames of Heaven’s wrath, he’s all things sinful and too dangerous to love.
An immortal Guardian of the mortal realm, Aethan has walked alone for millennia, trapped in a hell of his own. Until a feisty mortal crosses his path. A female he shouldn’t even look at, one who shakes the precarious foundations of all that he is, and one who’s determined to walk the edge of danger.
All her life, Echo Carter wanted “normal”, an impossible feat given that she can see demons. Drawn back to the alleys of New York, she’s determined to hunt down the one responsible for the death of her friend. And no man, no matter how sexy, will stop her. Until she discovers a horrifying truth about herself, forcing her to turn to the one man she should avoid. Aethan.
But when two stubborn wills collide, a dangerous passion ignites…
As evil closes in, Aethan has to overcome his darkest fears and claim Echo as his. If he doesn't, he just could lose her to a far more sinister fate…
Absolute Surrender is the first book in the Fallen Guardians series by Georgia Lyn Hunter. There were many point of views given through this story. We definitely needed some. Others? Not so much, and I got characters confused with one another, especially in the beginning. Some had similar names, some had more than one name, some changed into the appearance of others, and there were so many of them thrown at you at once. So, it took me several chapters to get everyone straight. Once I did, everything started to piece together.
The story itself was pretty darn good. Situations and places were described vividly, making it so easy to visualize, and it did this without being wordy, which I loved.
I'm not too sold on Echo. She can kick some major butt, but at the same time, she has absolutely no sense of self preservation and kept putting herself in danger.
Aethan was a fantastic character. He had strength and brains. I loved how he cared for Echo no matter what. I'm still not sure what he is supposed to be. Angel? Demon? Something entirely different? Alien? I'm interested in knowing more about some of his friends too.
This was one of those books that is drenched in tension and anticipation. I loved that about it! There was so much heat between Echo and Aethan ... my goodness! Be ready to take many cold showers or keep your significant other close by. You'll need them, and they'll thank you for it.
Echo Carter wrapped her arms around her waist and paced along the top step in front of the well-lit cathedral, trying to keep warm while she waited for Kira. The chilly sea breeze stung her nostrils as she debated going back to her car and cranking up the heater to full blast. But being trapped in the vehicle for a half hour? Ugh. She far preferred the cold. It helped ease the dull ache in her temples.
Her head still felt heavy and fuzzy from her restless night. Dreams she didn’t want to remember throbbed in her mind, so she concentrated on a tugboat gliding over the ominous waters of the East River. A streak of lightning raced across the dark skies, briefly enveloping everything in a portentous silver light.
The night wind stole under her denim jacket and beneath her sweater like an icy caress. She buttoned up the front and slid her hands into her pockets. Her fingers wrapped around the two stones she carried around like talismans, their warmth seeping into her. But it wasn’t enough. She seriously needed a distraction to clear her head and rid her body of the chill.
Her cell beeped. Eagerly, she retrieved the phone from her pocket and sat on her backpack, avoiding the cold cement step, only to find it was a text from Damon.
Away on business. Get Kira to stay with you. You know why. Call if you need me.
P.S. Don’t do anything stupid.
She rolled her eyes. Everyone had bad dreams. It didn’t mean she needed a babysitter. Damon’s postscripts, however, never changed, even if his messages did. The way her guardian hovered, you’d think she was thirteen instead of twenty-three and living on her own.
But she couldn’t blame him. All that mattered to her was finding Tamsyn’s killer and ending the son of a bitch. That had to be the stupid thing Damon worried about.
A man, rushing past her, snagged her attention. Echo watched him skid to a halt. Above average height, this one embodied the perfect male, with bronzed skin, dark, wavy hair, and a sculptured jaw. Black shades covered his eyes.
He made a U-turn, giving her a closed mouthed smile. Well now, she had asked for a distraction. Sliding the phone back into her pocket, she rose to her feet. She’d deal with this before Kira got back, and she knew the perfect spot for this little rendezvous. With a casual, seductive sway of her hips, she tossed him a sultry look over her shoulder and glided toward the back of the cathedral.
He followed.
Of course he’d follow. They always did.
She popped her jacket buttons free as she rounded the rear of the building and headed for the alcove where the statue of an angel with massive wings stood. When he grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the cathedral wall, she sucked in a breath, pain jarring up her arm to her shoulder. She twisted around. The acrid stink of sulfur flooded her nostrils. Bile rushed to her throat, telling her exactly what this thing was.
“Ah, little mortal. So good of you to choose this place—” He stopped, confusion flickering across his face, frowned, and leaned in to sniff her.
Oh yeah, her cursed pheromones always worked in her favor. They threw them off track and gave her the crucial edge she needed. But the black sludge that coated her hands as she held him off warned her this one had been wounded.
“You smell different. Must taste.” His tone slurred. Something wet and rough slithered along her neck. Crap! The slimy saliva on her skin sent a shudder of revulsion through her. But she didn’t let that distract her. Once his foul-breathed mouth claimed hers, life as she knew it would be over.
Nope, not happening. She had no plans to die at the hands of this fiend.
“Pity I have to cut our fun short.” His face cracked into a menacing smile to reveal pointy canines. “Your light’s mine.”
That’s what he thought.
“If you want it, come and claim it.” The familiar words rolled out of her mouth. Darn, she had to stop watching The Lord of the Rings. But Aragon was so—
Argh, kill first, then think about the sexy Aragon—she kneed the demonii hard in the crotch, breaking his hold. Spinning around, she kicked out her leg in a fast sweep, knocking his feet out from under him. He stumbled to the ground. About to go in for what would have been a routine kill, the demonii sprang up. He flung his shades aside. Eerily red eyes flamed with fury.
“I’ll drain every drop of your blood before I rip out your soul!”
“Promises—promises,” she taunted.
He came at her. Echo palmed her dagger and met him head-on. She went in low and rammed the blade into his sternum. The demonii fell to his knees, eyes widening in surprise.
“Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” Vengeance burned in her as she grabbed him by the hair and slashed his exposed throat, severing the carotid artery. Blood, black and thick, gushed out.
Her breathing harsh, she let the body fall to the ground. Disappointment burned through her. This fiend hadn’t killed Tamsyn. The stink of the sulfur now coating her skin lacked the coppery, sweet odor of vanilla she was after. No matter. It meant one less evil fiend roaming the streets and robbing the innocents of their souls.
The body decomposed and vanished within seconds. No sign remained that the demonii had ever existed. The oily ooze on her dagger had disappeared, too, when a frisson shot through her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Oh, hell. More of them.
Survival mode on high alert, Echo whipped around in a defensive strike and met steel with steel. The metallic sound reverberated through the cathedral’s garden. The sheer power of the blow vibrated up her hand to her injured shoulder. Pain streaked through her but didn’t slow her down.
She attacked. He countered.
This one was too strong, too canny. She lunged at him, but he grabbed her in a move that made her head spin and imprisoned her in an ironclad grip against a wall of muscle. It took her a second to realize the stranger had no intention of disarming or hurting her. He merely shielded himself from her attack.
Irritated, she glared up. The impact of the man facing her over their crossed daggers hit her like a blow to the stomach. She stumbled back, dragging in lungfuls of air. Wild as rainstorms and earthy as sin, his scent crowded her. She blinked, sure the vision before her was a fantasy induced by her sleep-starved brain.
He was so tall, he had to be at least six-seven. His long, leather duster parted to reveal muscular, leather-covered legs. All that black he wore was the perfect backdrop for a wickedly handsome face. The hard, sensual curve of his lips and that focused way he studied her told her he would know every carnal pleasure there was.
A tiny shiver of awareness darted up her spine, but she brutally clamped it down.
The chilly breeze tossed back strands of his long hair to reveal the glitter of small silver hoops in his ears. But his hair—she’d never seen anything like it. It was as if nature had stroked it with every shade of the blue spectrum then laid a careless dash of ebony between those strands.
The air around him shifted. Power rolled off him in aggressive waves. But his eyes held her spellbound—gunmetal gray irises took on streaks of white—a caveat, a warning not to attack him again.
Oh, Mr. Goth-man could send out all the signals he liked. She wasn’t easy to intimidate.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.
Her head still felt heavy and fuzzy from her restless night. Dreams she didn’t want to remember throbbed in her mind, so she concentrated on a tugboat gliding over the ominous waters of the East River. A streak of lightning raced across the dark skies, briefly enveloping everything in a portentous silver light.
The night wind stole under her denim jacket and beneath her sweater like an icy caress. She buttoned up the front and slid her hands into her pockets. Her fingers wrapped around the two stones she carried around like talismans, their warmth seeping into her. But it wasn’t enough. She seriously needed a distraction to clear her head and rid her body of the chill.
Her cell beeped. Eagerly, she retrieved the phone from her pocket and sat on her backpack, avoiding the cold cement step, only to find it was a text from Damon.
Away on business. Get Kira to stay with you. You know why. Call if you need me.
P.S. Don’t do anything stupid.
She rolled her eyes. Everyone had bad dreams. It didn’t mean she needed a babysitter. Damon’s postscripts, however, never changed, even if his messages did. The way her guardian hovered, you’d think she was thirteen instead of twenty-three and living on her own.
But she couldn’t blame him. All that mattered to her was finding Tamsyn’s killer and ending the son of a bitch. That had to be the stupid thing Damon worried about.
A man, rushing past her, snagged her attention. Echo watched him skid to a halt. Above average height, this one embodied the perfect male, with bronzed skin, dark, wavy hair, and a sculptured jaw. Black shades covered his eyes.
He made a U-turn, giving her a closed mouthed smile. Well now, she had asked for a distraction. Sliding the phone back into her pocket, she rose to her feet. She’d deal with this before Kira got back, and she knew the perfect spot for this little rendezvous. With a casual, seductive sway of her hips, she tossed him a sultry look over her shoulder and glided toward the back of the cathedral.
He followed.
Of course he’d follow. They always did.
She popped her jacket buttons free as she rounded the rear of the building and headed for the alcove where the statue of an angel with massive wings stood. When he grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the cathedral wall, she sucked in a breath, pain jarring up her arm to her shoulder. She twisted around. The acrid stink of sulfur flooded her nostrils. Bile rushed to her throat, telling her exactly what this thing was.
“Ah, little mortal. So good of you to choose this place—” He stopped, confusion flickering across his face, frowned, and leaned in to sniff her.
Oh yeah, her cursed pheromones always worked in her favor. They threw them off track and gave her the crucial edge she needed. But the black sludge that coated her hands as she held him off warned her this one had been wounded.
“You smell different. Must taste.” His tone slurred. Something wet and rough slithered along her neck. Crap! The slimy saliva on her skin sent a shudder of revulsion through her. But she didn’t let that distract her. Once his foul-breathed mouth claimed hers, life as she knew it would be over.
Nope, not happening. She had no plans to die at the hands of this fiend.
“Pity I have to cut our fun short.” His face cracked into a menacing smile to reveal pointy canines. “Your light’s mine.”
That’s what he thought.
“If you want it, come and claim it.” The familiar words rolled out of her mouth. Darn, she had to stop watching The Lord of the Rings. But Aragon was so—
Argh, kill first, then think about the sexy Aragon—she kneed the demonii hard in the crotch, breaking his hold. Spinning around, she kicked out her leg in a fast sweep, knocking his feet out from under him. He stumbled to the ground. About to go in for what would have been a routine kill, the demonii sprang up. He flung his shades aside. Eerily red eyes flamed with fury.
“I’ll drain every drop of your blood before I rip out your soul!”
“Promises—promises,” she taunted.
He came at her. Echo palmed her dagger and met him head-on. She went in low and rammed the blade into his sternum. The demonii fell to his knees, eyes widening in surprise.
“Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” Vengeance burned in her as she grabbed him by the hair and slashed his exposed throat, severing the carotid artery. Blood, black and thick, gushed out.
Her breathing harsh, she let the body fall to the ground. Disappointment burned through her. This fiend hadn’t killed Tamsyn. The stink of the sulfur now coating her skin lacked the coppery, sweet odor of vanilla she was after. No matter. It meant one less evil fiend roaming the streets and robbing the innocents of their souls.
The body decomposed and vanished within seconds. No sign remained that the demonii had ever existed. The oily ooze on her dagger had disappeared, too, when a frisson shot through her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Oh, hell. More of them.
Survival mode on high alert, Echo whipped around in a defensive strike and met steel with steel. The metallic sound reverberated through the cathedral’s garden. The sheer power of the blow vibrated up her hand to her injured shoulder. Pain streaked through her but didn’t slow her down.
She attacked. He countered.
This one was too strong, too canny. She lunged at him, but he grabbed her in a move that made her head spin and imprisoned her in an ironclad grip against a wall of muscle. It took her a second to realize the stranger had no intention of disarming or hurting her. He merely shielded himself from her attack.
Irritated, she glared up. The impact of the man facing her over their crossed daggers hit her like a blow to the stomach. She stumbled back, dragging in lungfuls of air. Wild as rainstorms and earthy as sin, his scent crowded her. She blinked, sure the vision before her was a fantasy induced by her sleep-starved brain.
He was so tall, he had to be at least six-seven. His long, leather duster parted to reveal muscular, leather-covered legs. All that black he wore was the perfect backdrop for a wickedly handsome face. The hard, sensual curve of his lips and that focused way he studied her told her he would know every carnal pleasure there was.
A tiny shiver of awareness darted up her spine, but she brutally clamped it down.
The chilly breeze tossed back strands of his long hair to reveal the glitter of small silver hoops in his ears. But his hair—she’d never seen anything like it. It was as if nature had stroked it with every shade of the blue spectrum then laid a careless dash of ebony between those strands.
The air around him shifted. Power rolled off him in aggressive waves. But his eyes held her spellbound—gunmetal gray irises took on streaks of white—a caveat, a warning not to attack him again.
Oh, Mr. Goth-man could send out all the signals he liked. She wasn’t easy to intimidate.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.
Genre: Adult Fiction (Paranormal Romance)
First Published: August 4, 2015
Publisher: GL Hunter
A Fallen Guardian Novella--companion book to Absolute Surrender
After a horrifying incident that left her in a coma for several long months, Echo now has to get used to a different life. As a descendant of a powerful angel, her days waver between training as the new Healer and convincing her mate she’s strong enough to match him in life and in bed.
A surprise date night gives her the perfect opportunity to do both. But plans have a way of coming unraveled. One disaster leads to another, and Echo accepts that nothing in their lives will ever be normal.
But the biggest revelation of the night comes after she kills a dangerous demonii. Sparks fly between her and her mate, proving that normal is most definitely overrated...
Echo, Mine is a novella companion to Absolute Surrender in the Fallen Guardians series by Georgia Lyn Hunter. This is giving us a peek at how Aethan and Echo's life is going since her coma. I don't feel like I got much more information from this story than I already knew from Absolute Surrender. It was almost like a shortened version of Absolute Surrender with them fighting Demonaii and Aethan trying not to touch Echo, but I missed steaminess they had in the first book. I didn't feel it as much. Where'd it go? You'll need to read Absolute Surrender first, otherwise you won't know who's who or what's what.
Absolute Surrender and Echo, Mine by Georgia Lyn Hunter was kindly provided to me by the author for review. The opinions are my own.
Dim lights cast a sickly, pale glow over the dingy alley, adding to the portentous sensation crawling through Aethan. As if some disaster loomed, one he couldn’t quite get a grip on. He glanced at Blaéz, strolling at his side. The warrior’s calm demeanor revealed nothing.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off his unease. “Something feels off.”
“Indeed…” Blaéz murmured as they bypassed several dumpsters lined against the grimy brick wall. The things reeked as if a pack of rats had died there.
“You made a decision yet?”
“About what?”
Blaéz cut him a cool, detached stare. A purple bruise marred his jaw. With his penchant for brutal underground fighting, Aethan wasn’t surprised.
“Is it that you really don’t know, or that you haven’t decided?”
Aethan frowned. His disquiet hiking in leaps now. “Celt, you talk in riddles. How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re talking about? Did you have a vision or what?”
The male’s precog ability was unparalleled. Hell, everything he’d told Aethan several months ago when he’d first met his mate had transpired—shit. Fear twisted his gut. “Is it Echo?”
“No.” Blaéz turned back to stare into the night. “No precog needed for this one. But it does indeed concern your mate.”
Aethan stopped and pinned his fellow Guardian an annoyed glare. “Just spit it out, man. What the hell is it?”
Blaéz slowly faced him. He was as tall as Aethan, a little on the leaner side, and deadlier than a detonating bazooka jammed into one’s mouth with his ability to kill with a thought. But dammit, any slower on the response, and Aethan would probably die of old age!
“Heard the females talking. Your mate and her friend, Kira…”
“Yeah?” Aethan prompted, clamping down on his teeth to stop from shaking the words out of the warrior.
“It’s Echo’s big day next week. Her birthday. Females, from what I’ve seen on TV, get excited about the day. And presents.”
Fuuccck! Suddenly feeling faint, Aethan inhaled a lungful of reeking air. This was worse than a damn demonii bolt striking him in the chest. What the hell did he do now?
Echo had told him her birthdate some time ago when she’d asked him his, but he hadn’t put much stock into remembering it. Hell, when you live forever, birthdays no longer mattered. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and continued up the alley, trying to think of something amazing for his mate…and came up blank. He really didn’t want to screw this up.
“Would you know—”
“Google.”
“Right—” Aethan broke off. A familiar insidious prickle slithered over his psyche. Demoniis. The turned brethren of demons were on the hunt again, trawling for prey, for mortal souls to replace the dying ones they’d already harvested from humans.
Eyes narrowed, he scanned the night air for the source… His heightened hearing caught the faint, pained cry of a female. Trouble.
Aethan dematerialized in a scattering of molecules and followed the distressed cry. He took form moments later in The Bowery and tore down the dimly lit alley, tracking the sensation, and skidded to a halt. Blaéz appeared beside him.
The abandoned warehouse across the street sat too still, too dark. The icy, malevolent sensation abrading his psyche grew stronger. Beneath it, the darker, coppery odor of blood stung his nose…no, not humans.
“What the hell are they up to now?”
He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off his unease. “Something feels off.”
“Indeed…” Blaéz murmured as they bypassed several dumpsters lined against the grimy brick wall. The things reeked as if a pack of rats had died there.
“You made a decision yet?”
“About what?”
Blaéz cut him a cool, detached stare. A purple bruise marred his jaw. With his penchant for brutal underground fighting, Aethan wasn’t surprised.
“Is it that you really don’t know, or that you haven’t decided?”
Aethan frowned. His disquiet hiking in leaps now. “Celt, you talk in riddles. How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re talking about? Did you have a vision or what?”
The male’s precog ability was unparalleled. Hell, everything he’d told Aethan several months ago when he’d first met his mate had transpired—shit. Fear twisted his gut. “Is it Echo?”
“No.” Blaéz turned back to stare into the night. “No precog needed for this one. But it does indeed concern your mate.”
Aethan stopped and pinned his fellow Guardian an annoyed glare. “Just spit it out, man. What the hell is it?”
Blaéz slowly faced him. He was as tall as Aethan, a little on the leaner side, and deadlier than a detonating bazooka jammed into one’s mouth with his ability to kill with a thought. But dammit, any slower on the response, and Aethan would probably die of old age!
“Heard the females talking. Your mate and her friend, Kira…”
“Yeah?” Aethan prompted, clamping down on his teeth to stop from shaking the words out of the warrior.
“It’s Echo’s big day next week. Her birthday. Females, from what I’ve seen on TV, get excited about the day. And presents.”
Fuuccck! Suddenly feeling faint, Aethan inhaled a lungful of reeking air. This was worse than a damn demonii bolt striking him in the chest. What the hell did he do now?
Echo had told him her birthdate some time ago when she’d asked him his, but he hadn’t put much stock into remembering it. Hell, when you live forever, birthdays no longer mattered. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and continued up the alley, trying to think of something amazing for his mate…and came up blank. He really didn’t want to screw this up.
“Would you know—”
“Google.”
“Right—” Aethan broke off. A familiar insidious prickle slithered over his psyche. Demoniis. The turned brethren of demons were on the hunt again, trawling for prey, for mortal souls to replace the dying ones they’d already harvested from humans.
Eyes narrowed, he scanned the night air for the source… His heightened hearing caught the faint, pained cry of a female. Trouble.
Aethan dematerialized in a scattering of molecules and followed the distressed cry. He took form moments later in The Bowery and tore down the dimly lit alley, tracking the sensation, and skidded to a halt. Blaéz appeared beside him.
The abandoned warehouse across the street sat too still, too dark. The icy, malevolent sensation abrading his psyche grew stronger. Beneath it, the darker, coppery odor of blood stung his nose…no, not humans.
“What the hell are they up to now?”
She grew up in the tropical climate of South Africa and currently lives abroad with her family.
An avid reader from a young age, she devoured every book she got her hands on. When she's not writing or plotting her next novel, she loves trolling flea markets, buying things because they're so pretty, travelling, and being with her supportive family.
To learn more about Georgia Lyn Hunter and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.
No comments :
Post a Comment
Thank your for stopping by. Please comment! I'd love to hear from you!