Angelic Scion Outfit Novels & Stories

Eyes wide, I gulp loudly as torrents of desire suddenly wash over me. Angelo doesn’t look at my shocked reaction as he strides closer and sheds his human disguise. His red sweater and slacks begin to shift and change until he is covered in fiery red scales. Large gold wings sprout from his back, and his head is covered in some kind of medieval helmet, like the ones in the movie with the Trojan warriors. He’s magnificent but also scary. My body thrums with desire as he comes closer. I want him to come to me, but something tells me that this is not right. My reaction feels good but also wrong.

All eyes were on the star's ascension, watching it unfolded into bursting wings of light. Lars has transformed into a white armored angel with six divine wings hovering behind his back, connected by a golden halo. The armor was his own solidified Scion Force, sparkling in majestic grandeur of white and gold. A sword patterned crown rested on Lars' head, having the same royal pattern as his brilliantly burning Celestial Calibur.

"Alonso is a great guard, but he is also old...I trust you with Rocco, better...Finish your breakfast, and we can meet in the study." Maria stands and pushes in her chair. " I am finished now." She had hardly eaten anything, but I wasn't going to hold it against her. My mother stood as well, as I placed my hand on Maria's back and led them to the study. "Rocco is also here to give you a branding." I tell her. "A branding?" She asked, with that fear in her eyes again. "A tattoo...everyone in the Archangel family have one." I showed Rocco where I wanted it. I had it placed on her upper left shoulder, that way her hair could cover it when she went on nice occasions. "It will only sting a li

Antonetta rose to her feet and smiled at me as if she had not seen me for a long time. “There! There! There are my stars,” She approached me and held my forearm and Dylan’s, tugging us to sit with her on the sofa. “We’re doing the Birth of Jesus, and you and Dylan will be Mary and Joseph,” she announced excitedly. “You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t mean to say it that way, but I could not be Mary. “Can I just be the angel?” She frowned at me. “I will be the angel, Anya will be your cousin, and Dylan will be Joseph. The end of the conversation,” she said, smiling and blinking at me like she was telling me it had been decided.

His body was suddenly overheating. Angel gulped hard. Her long hair flowed more than halfway down her back. It was darker than he remembered, and it curled at the bottom. Her jeans hugged her body, and she wore a pair of strappy heels. Her black blouse tied around her neck and was backless, except for the bottom part that draped delicately around the small of her back.

Remmy's POV "And you're sure what you're saying is accurate? Because if you're in any way mistaken—" "I know what I heard, Sarathiel!" My eldest sister, still swaddled in the light of her Grace and tethered to the Host, frowned at my gruffness. As an Archangel, Sarathiel's wings were that of a bird of prey, specifically, that of the Eurasian eagle-owl, dressed in bold russet stripes like layers in sandstone. She kept them pressed close to her shoulders, disguising them as a fantastical shawl around her wide shoulders. Her dreadlocks swayed in the wintery breeze, and she tucked an errant lock behind a pierced ear.

I was standing in front of the body-length mirror, staring at my reflection. When Abigail had brought that gown for me, I'd hesitated, wondering if I should wear it. My old habits had kicked in, forcing me to look for anything that had made me look more… angelic. Ardian had always made me dress in bright colors, turning me into his Angel. For three years, each time I had worn a gown, it had been either white, creamy, or light blue—nothing darker than that. I couldn't recall if any of those dresses had survived without being stained with blood. Sometimes I'd thought that he'd wanted me to be his Angel only so he could break my wings over and over again.

Chapter 25 Valencia’s POV The transformation was complete. I stood in the center of my suite, a vision of monochromatic death and high-fashion armor. The black gown was a masterpiece of structural silk, backless to the waist to reveal the scars Silas had worshipped with his mouth, and slit to the upper thigh to allow for the hidden holster strapped to my skin. My hair was a sculpted crown of dark glass, and the violet contacts made me feel as though I were looking at a world that had already been conquered.

Her new attire was built like armor meant for an Empress who didn’t need protecting: A fitted black and silver tunic with gold-lined seams. A high collar flaring into crescent-shaped pauldrons. Armored bracers carved with Lux and shadow sigils. A flowing back cape woven from Solaris gold thread and Lunaris silver thread. A belt engraved with ancient Noctis runes. Dark boots lined with quiet lunar metal that absorbed sound. Regal. lethal. impossibly beautiful. Alessia touched the collar lightly. “This will do.” Ianthe whistled. “It does more than ‘do.’ You look like a walking threat.”

She would hold sway reminding them who she was to the Clan. “That is a wonderful idea.” Danessa went and prepared herself for the meeting. She pulled her sides of hair back and clipped it with a comb. It had crystals on it forming a tall crown of three behind her head. Her gown was a smooth white dress at the top and faded into solid gold shimmer at the length. Her golden shoes were adorned with gold inlay. She appeared an Angel with deep red tendrils falling down over her shoulders looking like blood.