Dying Angel Novels & Stories

"For the goodwill of heaven's council and by the votes of all fellow Angels, Laurent, is hereby relieved of his duties under the name of our lord, he has been exiled from the community of Angels and given the domain of fallen by the order of our lord. He may not hold any power over the godly actions taken by the Angels unless and until asked to do so. May lord give you his blessings." The announcer yelled out for everyone to hear. Laurent stood at the side clad in white, looking straight ahead, his yellow-green eyes cold as ice and hands wound behind his back like a soldier. His head held up, proud.

Ang notebook na naglalaman ng lahat ng list niya at mga kwentong nangyari sa kan'ya. Binuksan kong muli ang notebook na binigay n'ya at muling binasa ang mga laman nito. "DIARY OF THE DYING" Living My Final Days with a Grateful Heart Muli akong napaluha ng mabasa ang unang pahina nito. Bakit sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo, s'ya pa ang dinapuan ng sakit na 'yon at kung bakit s'ya agad ang kinuha. Ang daming masasamang nilalang na hindi na nararapat pang mabuhay pero bakit kung sino pa ang maraming pangarap at dapat pagkalooban nito ay sila pa ang pinagkaitan.

The horrific, haunted memories of Adam beating me flashed violently behind my eyes. I slumped heavily against the wall. The bright lights of the bathroom began to rapidly fade into black. I desperately tried to keep my eyes open. I tried to speak. "D-Danzel," I barely managed to whisper. My heavy eyelids finally fluttered shut. "Angelina!" Danzel's panicked, blood-curdling scream was the absolute last thing I heard before I plummeted into the suffocating darkness.

His steel bluish orbs zeroed on the figure who was crouching on the semi plastered rough floor, her eyes squeezed shut tightly and her one knee touching the floor and the other just few centimetres above. His Angel!!! ***

“In the Flying Death we have something called a Blood Card. Mine were Stephen and Nina Mitchell. Nina, though my biological mother, was never any sort of mother. She’s a shell of a person and won’t ever be capable of more. Stephen, some sorry sack of shit she married but never mated with, thought I was his personal punching bag. His to do with what he wanted. Whatever he saw fit and she never stopped him. Well, gentleman, I’d like to introduce myself. My name … is Punch Dennison and I am the Reeve of the Flying Death. And no, I will never be Alpha. Because an Alpha can look past his violence and not let it cloud his judgment,” I say, my eyes immediately searching for Mags. She’s gone and I k

“You’re dying.” Angela’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as the dagger’s edge. She stood at the rim of the ruins, her silhouette warped by the thing festering inside her—claws too long, spine arched like a wolf mid-leap, eyes glowing sulfur-bright. But her voice… her voice was still hers. Soft. Human. Weak.

I guess twenty five hundred will take me so far and I'll change my name and get a job to survive and pray like hell that my father doesn’t find me. Angelo Benardi, leader of the mafia group Angels of death. The reason why they call themselves angels of death is because they decide when and where you die. I don't think my father would kill me. He loves his family more than anything he goes through so much to protect us with that being said his punishment would hurt like hell that much i know. “What is it that you're thinking about?” I nearly jumped from my skin when I heard the dragon's voice behind me. then it dawned on me that the doors had not yet opened so I leaned forward and pressed the

Thankfully, she was rather displeased after her video went viral. Hence, I first made an excuse to visit her to grant myself an opportunity to seek the truth from her. Only when Yvette was drunk would she spill the beans. She clearly had feelings for me. Yet, she couldn't agree to date me because she was worried about many things. Thankfully, I was able to offer her the security she needed, and I always hoped to make her feel safe. Eventually, I married my angel. Despite our age difference—she was 30 and I was 22 when we got married—she was the one who seemed younger at heart in our relationship.

There was no Angel anymore: she was used, betrayed, killed. My voice sounded gruff and caused the woman to gasp deeply, “Angel is dead!”

This Angel was sizing her up and down and one of his wings caressed her arm feeling the feathery embrace and feeling scared all at once. “Jasmine Lanea Peters, age twenty seven. Born from the mother of Janea Latrice Peters and father unknown. Last prayer was for her mother before she passed several years ago. You feel alone and helpless. You need this to be your saving grace. It is no wonder you are so determined.” Jasmine’s mouth went dry and she wanted to remove her hand, but instead, it started to glow which caused the Angel to look worried then. “What are you doing?”