Angel Wings Opening Novels & Stories

Max and Kendra were quick to defend Alina, always coming to her rescue but I had a feeling she didn't really need it. As the weeks past, I began training myself again My parents helped where they could. For the first time ever I had seen both my parents in angelic form. My mother was beautiful, a yellow glow shining of her wings. They were pure white but shimmered as they caught the rays of the sun. My mother had to wear a dress with a deep back so she could have her wings out. Every female angel had to wear something similar to that to accommodate their wings because they obviously couldn't fly half-naked. Her wings were slightly bigger than her, the ends touching the ground.

Her hands open enough for me to breathe, but I'm too weak to move away from her palm. "Alyssa?" Azrael walks over with his wings folding behind his back. The angel slowly falls to his knees while keeping those intense, worried eyes on mine. God, he is handsome. He is wearing dark clothes and something that looks like leather; it suits him. But it is the way his entire face conveys sympathy that makes my pulse race. Before I close my eyes, I notice butterflies in my stomach.

Frank arch a brow at her. "How do you mean?" Aria gave a shrug. "Maybe his mother was right. He doesn't like me" "Of course he does like you. I mean who wouldn't love an angel like you hmm?" He placed a quick kiss against her lip muting her protest_followed by another and another until it turned into a full blown make out section again and draining all the protest left in her body. ** It was a very sunny Sunday afternoon the next day when Aria arrived back at her house dressed in an oversized polo shirt that was obviously not hers as she stood fidgeting with the lock before pushing it open and stepping inside.

40 sec, the camera fell to the ground and its lense were directed to the ceiling, an aesthetic masterpiece was painted. Intertwined branches of vines, studded with flowers and differently colored butterflies, two angels were flying down from the clouds, aimed in their mouth are trumpets, each are held on their opposite hands, fully stretched meant to touch shoulders together, their feet behaving the same way, while their outer feet were bended, arched to create a four like pose on the low. It creates an optical illusion, making it appear like the angels are going to meet you halfway. Flashback "Brylle, I'll be writing a historical fiction. Can you join me by tomorrow?" In semi flirting voice

The time had come for her to embrace her angelic heritage and unleash her true potential. With a deep breath, Claire closed her eyes and allowed herself to be enveloped by the ethereal energy of the forest. She opened her senses to the unseen forces around her, attuning herself to the ancient wisdom that resided within the very fabric of her being. As she connected with her angelic lineage, a radiant glow suffused her form. Her eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light, and her wings, invisible to mortal eyes, unfurled behind her, their majestic presence felt rather than seen. Zane gasped in awe, witnessing the ethereal transformation before him. He was in the presence of something extraordi

The angels each had six, ten, and twelve wings, attacking Wilbur from different directions. "You're just in time!" Wilbur roared furiously. The number of wings affected the angels' flying speeds, and Wilbur took advantage of the difference as he launched two attacks in succession and smashed the angels with six and ten wings to dust. Yet just then, the twelve-winged angel was right in front of him. It raised the long sword in its grasp, bringing it down against Wilbur's head. The angel moved too quickly for Wilbur to avoid it, and he grabbed the long sword as he glowered at the angel. In the next second, both the angel and its sword were absorbed into the white gloves.

I could feel the anger rising in her; with a frustrated scream, she exposed her glorious angelic wings, one bright white, tinged with shimmers of light, the other breath-taking ebony tainted with luscious obsidian tips. They were remarkable. In one strong swop of her razor-sharp wings, she cut away at the demonic hands that tore at her before she lifted from the ground and took off in the air following the sounds of the cries. Even in her dream, her wings were remarkable; watching as she flew toward the flames, a cunning grin crawled across my lips; at the centre of her wings, the black and white feathers mixed and entwined, a marble effect painted each feather. Showing that she was not as c

He picks me up and I securely lock my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. "Keep your eyes closed. I don't need you getting sick." he simply states. He takes us through the doorway and back onto the ledge before jumping as his large black wings unfurl from his back and spread out, nearly touching my arms. I feel as we soar up into a mist of pure darkness and manage to catch a glimpse of Levi before shutting my eyes and burying my face in his neck. His arms stay securely around me, holding me against him as we fly so fast it nearly takes my breath away.

He surfaced gasping. Not from lack of air. Angels didn't need air the way humans did. He gasped because the feeling demanded a sound, because his body was no longer a controlled instrument and it was going to express itself whether he participated in that decision or not. He floated on his back and looked up at the Dreamveil sky, which was doing something extraordinary overhead, spiraling patterns of light that seemed to pulse in time with his own heartbeat. His skin glowed faintly with the water's light. His wings floated spread on either side of him, the silver fire running through his feathers brighter than it had ever been in Heaven.

"What are we having?" I don't answer. I find my first grip on the exterior wall and start climbing. The wall is rough and cooperative, textured stone with good friction. There's wind tonight, not enough to matter. The courtyard below is lit and quiet. Then, from above and slightly to the left, the light changes. A Throne Angel drifts into view, wings folded, moving on the night air with that particular slow certainty that makes them impossible to ignore. Enormous. Radiant. Silver hair, pale eyes, hovering at precisely my altitude like he parked there on purpose.