Archangel’s Consort, by Nalini Singh

Well. I finished this book. You probably already have an idea of how much I liked it. If anything, I feel like I owe you all an explanation for why I kept reading, all the way to the bitter end.

I sort of knew what I was getting into. This is the third book in Nalini Singh’s Guild Hunter series, and it’s pretty similar to the other two. I know know if I just have better taste or less patience or what this go-round, but damn, this was a SLOG.

Our heroine is Elena, a vampire hunter who has been turned into an angel by her sexy lover Raphael, the Archangel of New York. The Archangel of New York, her lover. Did you catch that? Because it’s pretty important. So important, that Raphael is described as Elena’s lover, the Archangel of New York, on every. fucking. page.

As best I can tell, Nalini Singh finds a word or phrase that she really, really digs, and she digs it SO much that it shows up every few pages. Raphel’s job is to make sure that the Hudson does not run red with blood. If only Elena knew, how taxing it was to make ensure the Hudson did not run red with blood. New York could turn into an abattoir of despair. Inside the warehouse was an abattoir. She took in the macabre scene. The scene, it was macabre. Raphael’s eyes of most inhuman blue, the inhuman azure. Except every sentence is eight times as long. I. GET. IT.

At least Raphael’s penis was not described as his “unforgiving length,” as in previous books.

WHERE WAS I? Oh, right. Vampire hunter turned angel. Because in this world, the two supernatural creatures are angels (and archangels) (COOL!) and vampires (… huh?). Angels Make vampires. Um, let’s just go with it?

So Elena and Raphael are trying to figure out their relationship and a bunch of other stuff happens but whatever, you’re just here for the sex. And if you’ve ever been curious about the specifics of angel fucking, this is your chance, because there is A LOT of sex. Raphael’s velvet cock is basically the third main character. At one point, they dance “that most intimate dance of angels” and … well, do you know how eagles have sex? Yeah.

Most of my gripes about this book have to do with Elena and Raphael as a couple. In short, I don’t buy it. Elena seems okay, I guess, but it is hammered in that Raphael is an Ancient Being of Exquisite Power and Elena is … there. She’s feisty, I guess. But the book is littered with phrases that make me do That Face:

Raphael: “Should you lie with another human male, Elena, what I will do to him will be a nightmare etched upon the collective human memory.”

Elena: “Yeah, buster, well don’t forget it goes both ways.”

Me: -__-

Raphael himself is an interesting character. One thing I DO like about these books is that Nalini Singh does a pretty convincing job writing immortals. The strain of living for eons is evident in each of the archangels, and in Raphael especially. The flipside is, Raphael does not appear to have any sense of humor whatsoever. His lips might quirk into a smile when Elena makes him a sandwich (really, that happened), but that’s about it. And given that Kresley Cole is writing immortal heroes that are antique AND sexy AND funny, that’s just not good enough.

The story itself is pretty cool, but by the end of the book I felt like I’d been steamrollered by the interchangeable sex scenes (except the eagle one), the purple prose, and the endless repetiton (Elena is Raphael’s consort. His consort, it is she. Raphael’s consort, Elena. CONSORT CONSORT CONSORT CONSORT CONSORT KILL ME).

Anyways, it’s over. I made it. Time for some Eloisa James. To the Guild Hunter series, I have two words. “Girl, bye.”

Halfway to the Grave and One Foot in the Grave, by Jeaniene Frost

Scarygodmother has excellent taste in romance novels, and navigating the wolfsexy waters of paranormals can be treacherous (hint: a lot of them suck). The Night Huntress series came highly recommended by her, and I think she’s right - even though when I started reading the first book I was confused, a little bored, and I even made That Face. But more on that in a second.

Our heroine is Cat, and the fact that she is half-vampire has been the source of some serious angst through her whole life. Cat has spent her whole life hearing from her psychotic hosebeast mother that all vampires are vicious demons to be exterminated and that she’s an abomination, so when we meet her she’s dedicated her whole life (and her super sweet half-vampire powers) to killing vamps. She meets our hero, Bones, a way powerful master vampire, who wants to train her to be an assassin. There’s all kinds of angst, but let’s be honest, we’re just here for the fucking. SPOILER ALERT: there is a lot of fucking.

My biggest problem with the first book is that Cat and Bones as a couple is WILDLY unbelievable. Cat is a whiny asshole kid, and Bones is superpowered antique. Their coupling is what made me make That Face, which is what happens when you sniff out a supremely ridiculous piece of prose (usually dialog). It’s bemused disbelief, with a dash of pure, uncut WHAT. THE. FUCK. Your face sort of twists up and then smooshes into a series of straight lines. Allow me to demonstrate:

Cat: [100+ pages of calling Bones and his kind an aberration, loathing his very existence, and generally being a whiny asshole]

Bones: “But … I love you.”

Me: -__-

At first I thought SG had led me astray, but pretty soon after that Cat becomes more Buffy than Dawn and the book becomes very difficult to put down.

The second book is a huge improvement. Cat is older, a SEEKRIT AGENT, and a lot more interesting. Bones is still Bones, but it works because Cat is now a total badass and we’re not stuck with the Child/Supreme Being dynamic that made Stephanie Meyer a bazillion dollars.

A fair warning: Bones is English, a fact that Jeaniene Frost really, really, REALLY wants you to remember. My pal Nancy said she could not even finish the first book because every page was littered with “Blimey” and “Bloody ‘ell” and “Luv.” He reads a bit like a stock Humorous Cockney Character in a small-town community theater production of Oliver Twist. It gets better.

And as I have mentioned, there is fucking. DRRRRRRRRRTY sex, worthy of Xtina, especially in the second book. In fact, I would recommend skipping the first book altogether except that Cat’s growth as a character is terrific and well worth the initial assholery.