Novel & Cerita Angel Wings From The Back

A shriek came out of her mouth which made Anna look behind to find Aura falling down. "Aura!" Anna panicked and screamed taking her name and jumped off without thinking of the consequence. Suddenly she felt a burning sensation on her back and soon two jet-black wings came out of her back. Each feather has the top part jet black with the hairs or fibers sticking out of the sides, while the end of the edge itself is blood red. Flipping the wings in the air she flies down and catches Aura before she falls into the river of fire.

Damascus had pulled his own hand to his chest and rubbed the spot lightly. He wasn’t sure why, but the feeling was more than just a case of static electricity. Damascus looked at Amara and wondered if there was something more to his wingless angel that met the naked eye.

"I just need some motivation." He was still teasing me even at that critical moment. "You're unbelievable." "Stay in the cottage. Do not come out. There's a protective shield that will prevent Liam or any other angel from entering." He turned to walk away but I held him down. "What will you do?" I asked like I didn't know the answer to that question. Eliot smirked. "I'll finish him." And with that, Elliot grew beautiful black wings. His wings were like that of a Pegasus, black, silky and shiny. They were enormous and powerful enough to make an elephant fly.

And I love every second of it. Sin keeps his eyes on me, a hint of a smirk on his face as he sees my face morph in forbidden pleasure. He can't hold himself back anymore as he furiously pumps inside me. And then a beautiful thing happens. We both reach our high, the same time. But as he reaches his high, a faint shadow of wings spurt out of his back. Wings as large as his, is drawn on the walls behind Sin as he arches his back in pleasure. His wings aren't out, but the shadow erupts as if his black wings had sprung out of his back. The shadow grows with each moan he lets out, like they grow syllable by syllable, covering half of the room, and the tips reaching the ceiling. I am partly glad I

Mane had just employed one of those many moves: Exploding Wings. Mane’s mumble was the trigger for the huge fiery wings that grew on his back. The wings were several dozens of meters long and several meters wide. When they appeared on Mane’s back they rose high into the sky, and flapped rapidly. Yet their beating didn’t lift Mane up or take him into the sky. With the beating of those wings, the cry of a Phoenix filled the ears of all who were here, and several large flames descended upon the retreating goblins, burning them all to a crisp. The fire was stronger, completely eliminating the goblins in less than a second.

"I don't want to rip my shirt." Eron's shirt lay discarded on the grass as he stood before me, his back to me. With a swift motion, two magnificent wings unfurled from his back, and I gasped in astonishment. They were angel-like wings, their feathers glistening in the moonlight as they stretched out, casting a shadow on the ground beneath. "Velia, I want to show you something truly special," Eron said softly, his eyes locked onto hers. Still taken aback by the sight before me, I cautiously approached, my curiosity overcoming my initial surprise. With trembling fingers, I reached out and touched one of the feathers. It was soft and cool to the touch, sending a shiver of awe down my spine.

Not knowing what to do, I went back, trying to follow the path I followed before, to see if I missed any clues. When I approached the place where I stopped earlier, the scent was so intense that I moaned. I knew he was there. Trying to keep upwind, I crept as stealthily as possible and peered through the trees. Angel had his back to me, in the same outfit he'd been born with, gloriously naked. Long blond hair fell mulched over broad shoulders. A strong back ended in a hard, perfect ass and muscular arms and legs. I wished he would turn around.

“Knock yourself out.” I freeze. Breathless. The light catches him from his side, painting golden lines over the muscles of his back. An angel spans from shoulder to shoulder. Not the gentle, glowing kind. This one is fierce with wings shredded at the tips, feathers curling into smoke. One arm grips a sword driven into the earth, the other cradles a bleeding heart. His face is tilted upward, not praying–not begging either. Screaming. Like he’s damned. My lips part in astonishment and my words catch somewhere between my ribs and my throat. For a full minute, I do nothing but gawk at the intricacies of ink beneath ripping muscles.

My dad only replied, "The weather is bad today. The aircraft can't take off." With that, he ended the call. Hugging Mom, whose heart had stopped beating, Uncle Peter sat in the corridor outside the emergency room the whole night. The next day, someone posted a photo on the local forum. In the photo, a white Cessna flew across the sky, with pink petals drifting down from the aircraft. The sky was clear. … In the afternoon, my secretary, Annie Grant, knocked on the door. "Mr. Lowe, we've received a call from Zach Airways. They asked if you've finished reviewing the file sent by Mr. Zimmerman and when you will be able to approve it."

I said dropping a feather to glide downwards. A murmured growl acknowledged the hit, he apparently already knew. That growl gave me goose bumps. I watched in relief as he walked over by the door to grab the discarded pie bag and spilt coffee cup. Coffee had leaked out and made little tree root designs along the floor. I felt bad about that but he started it. Standing up he looked at me where I was perched. "Well, you are definitely not an Angel, not with those dirty wings, but, you're not simple, I'll give you that." The dig on my wings stung, they weren't the pretty ethereal white of an Angels but resembled melted cookies and cream ice cream.