Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment)

• Title Page
  
• Prologue
  
• PART I
  
• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  
• Chapter 23
  
• Chapter 24
  
• Chapter 25
  
• Chapter 26
  
• Chapter 27
  
• Chapter 28
  
• Chapter 29
  
• Chapter 30
  
• Chapter 31
  
• Chapter 32
  
• Chapter 33
  
• Chapter 34
  
• Chapter 35
  
• Chapter 36
  
• Chapter 37
  
• Chapter 38
  
• Chapter 39
  
• PART II
  
• Chapter 40
  
• Chapter 41
  
• Chapter 42
  
• Chapter 43
  
• Chapter 44
  
• Chapter 45
  
• Chapter 46
  
• Chapter 47
  
• Chapter 48
  
• Chapter 49
  
• Chapter 50
  
• Chapter 51
  
• Chapter 52
  
• Epilogue
  
• About Airicka Phoenix
  

©2013 by Airicka Phoenix

All rights reserved.

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover Designer: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

Interior Design: Airicka Phoenix

Editor & Formatter: Kris Atkinson

Beta Readers: Kimberly Schaaf & Krystal Marlein

ISBN-13: 978-1490497501

ISBN-10: 1490497501

Published by Airicka Phoenix

Also available in eBook and paperback publication

Series

Touching Smoke (Touch Series, Book #1)

Touching Eternity (Touch Series, Book #1.5)

Standalones

Games of Fire

Anthologies

Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology

Midnight Surrender Anthology

To my beautiful readers,

Thank you for all your love and support.

Another mountain conjured and what a mountain Octavian’s Undoing was, too. Truth be told, it would not have been possible if it weren’t for the much needed boot in the butt whenever I wanted to give up. There are so many people I want to thank, so many people who stood by me every step of the way through this novel, but unfortunately that would be a novel in itself. Nevertheless, there are a few people that deserve an extra topping of ice cream for putting up with me.

My Family — thank you for putting up with the mountain of dishes in the sink, the lack of clean socks and for the endless hours of moaning and sniveling I know I must have done. I don’t know how you guys put up with me, but I love you. Never forget, you always come first.

Kristy — what do you say to a person who drops everything to edit 600pgs on a week deadline? What do you say to someone who is always there, offering a hand or a boot in the butt? I seriously love you, Kris. Thank you for not giving up on me and for making everything I write shine.

Kimberly — my beautiful and talented PA, what would I do without you? I mean that. What would I do? You are there every day like the sunlight we never see here in BC. Your constant friendship and support guide me to do impossible things. Thank you for being my rock.

My amazing Street Team — Susú Vicuña, Len Phelps, Irayda Quezada, Katherine Pegg Eccleston, Nanette Del Valle Bradford, Heather Andrews, Cara Crabtree, Heather Heslip Alexander, Candy Smith, Brigitte Hernandez, Amy Chris — for standing by me and supporting me. You ladies are angels and I am blessed to know you.

Tiffany King, Krystal Marlein, Liz Jaquier, Laura Hunter, Derinda Love, Laura Hunter, Amber Garcia, Trevor Couturier, Becca Misura, Konstanz Silverbow, Kimberley McInroy & so many others — Thank you guys so much for your unwavering support and friendship.

My readers — an author is nothing without her readers. I am thankful for each and every one of you. Thank you for being you and for always being the light at the end of the tunnel.

Love all of you!

~Airicka

From Lilith rose the children of discord, sons and daughters of vengeance. Chained by their birth, the guilty bear marks as guardians of justice. They battle to win their freedom by judging those who defile the Black Laws. They take no side but the side of Judgment and cast death upon the wicked.

~ Book of Judgment

The theory was that Hell could only be accessed through death. Riley disagreed. The door to Hell, in her opinion, was standing in line at the post office when the air conditioner was broken and the temperature had skipped mildly discomforting and gone straight to downright inhuman, and the people ahead of her made her want to take a shower.

They weren’t so bad. They weren’t shouting or complaining that the woman at the only kiosk open was paying for her package in pennies, or that they’d been standing there in that cramped space for the last thirty minutes watching her lose count and start over. As lines went, they were a quiet lot, even the woman with the kid clutching at her hand. It would have been a relief if that said kid hadn’t been enthusiastically digging for gold and wiping it on his mother’s skirt. Then there was the woman who chewed on her nails and spat the bits out over her shoulder at the man behind her dressed entirely in black, who kept trying to dodge the bits of nail spittle from landing on him. But the worst was the man directly in front of Riley, the one who wore a stained white t-shirt and checkered golf shorts. The stench of him was made her eyes water and the hairs in her nostrils scream in terror. She seriously began to reconsider her decision to mail her electricity payment. It wasn’t like she needed power that badly. The pioneers lived without and they were fine. Never mind cavemen and hippies.

“Next!” the frail little man behind the kiosk croaked as the penny-counting woman shuffled away, humming happily to herself as she snapped her considerably less weighty purse closed.

The nose picker and his mother hurried over and the line scuffled forward. Riley stayed where she was, putting a safe distance between herself and the sour aroma wafting off her companion. She wiped away the sweat accumulating across her brow with the back of her hand and sighed. This was not how she imagined spending her afternoon. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking to bring a book along with her on the journey, but she was supposed to be job hunting, not wilting away in this unnatural heat. Thank goodness she’d already dropped her resumes off before hitting the post office. Something told her potential employers didn’t look too kindly on people who had taken a bath in their own sweat, fully dressed. She was too afraid to check, but she was sure her makeup was running and the sassy knot she’d stubbornly twisted her hair into was now fuzzy and mad-woman-ish. Nope. She was relieved she’d be going home afterwards and stripping down to her shorts and tank top. Granted, there was no air conditioner there either, but there was a shower and the freedom to kick her heels off.

“Screw this!” Sewer-Man griped, as he turned and marched past Riley to the door.

One down, three to go. It was like the TV show
Survivors
. One by one, the contestants were eliminated until only the very brave — or stupid — remained. Riley was prepared to go the distance on this one. Nothing short of someone releasing a plume of body gas smelling of peanuts was going to make her leave, and only because she was allergic and may require emergency medical attention. But to prove she had the female balls to make it to the final round, she scuttled up behind the man wearing black and breathed in deeply the fresh scent of rain, wilderness and pine. Surprise lifted her eyebrows as she eyed the man in front of her, and traced his wide shoulders and lean back with new interest.

She estimated he was roughly six-three and about a hundred and ninety pounds, with dark neatly cropped hair cut short in back and left shaggy in the front. His hips were narrow, made narrower by the black t-shirt he’d stuffed into the waistband of his black jeans, jeans that molded a little too distractingly to his extremely well formed backside. Riley cocked her head and stared for a just a moment longer — her well-earned treat for the day — before continuing on downward over long legs and abraded army boots. She couldn’t see his face, but she was seriously liking his back, a back that seemed to tense the longer she studied it. The hands at his sides tightened into fists, knuckles white against his golden complexion.

“Next!”

The nose-picker and his mom left and the nail-biter took their place at the counter, shouting a bit too excitedly, “I only need a stamp!”

Thank God!
Riley thought, exhaling, although standing behind Tall, Dark and Gorgeous had its own perks. Her gaze drifted downward again. It was her way of thinking that if she had to waste more time standing in line, she may as well take in the good view.

But her sightseeing ended when the nail-biter, letter and stamp in hand, hurried away and Riley lost her treat. She smothered her sulking by organizing her mail, making sure the checks were inside and the addresses were written on the envelopes clearly and correctly. All of that took her a full two minutes, which seemed to be enough time for Mr. Sexy to finish his business and turn to leave. Riley jerked her head up, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he stomped past her, but the dude moved fast. There was a solid punch of air as he charged straight past her and out the door.