Feyre Wings Novels & Stories

No rescue if you scream. He stands up, breathing, “No backup. No warrant. Just eyes.” He grabs his jacket, clips the discreet body cam inside the chest lining, and locks up the folder in his bottom drawer. Just in case. … The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the car parked just off the dirt road that twisted through the woods like an old scar. Reyes stood beside it, one hand on the hood, staring out over the tree line. The road here wasn’t marked—just a path scraped by weather and time. No signposts. No power lines. Just fog creeping between the trees and the faint smell of char in the air.

Now that I was moving farther away from Vex my fear was quickly turning into anger. I allowed the anger to flow through me. It wasn’t fair that once again I had to turn everything upside down to get away from him. I was really starting to enjoy my life. Granted Mentone mainly had older people, but they were kind and generous. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of the mountains and loved seeing the waterfall. Even the small apartment had been nice. I enjoyed sitting in the recliner learning to cross stitch, and just listening to the sounds of nature floating in the open window. My anger grew as I realized I forgot to grab my cross-stitch supplies from beside the chair. Damn Vex for all of thi

The particle separation and reunification ignited the next phase of my transformation. I can feel my muscles, bones, and fat reshaping into something more robust, leaner, and lethal. My fingers keep ripping out sharp, blade-like black claws, and my gums throb from the new fangs that have emerged. When I think it is over, my shoulder blades tear open, and enormous black angel wings thrust out. The feathers are a deep black, glistening in the portal's light. These large and imposing wings span wider than my entire body. They are immense, powerful, and coated in a thick, black liquid that shimmers in the light. Each wing is a work of art, with feathers that fade from black to the deepest shade

They always loved spending time with her. Case in point, our six were out in the backyard. Everyone was watching the triplets fly. Those three were already mini pros at it. We parents could not be any prouder. The triplets’ wings were functional now. Fae wings first came out when they turned ten. All three sets of wings were translucent like all Trelinin wings were. The lighter that the wing color was, the more powerful the Light Fae was. Then there were silver streaks because of the ancient magic I had been given while pregnant with them.

Liam said coming around to face him. "What the Hell am I supposed to do with wings!? I don't know how to use them!" Danté said shaking his body, he could feel them, but his mind had no clue how to order them into movement. "They look amazing" Lynette finally said. "You say that now, I'm not sure I'm happy though" Danté said. "Why?" She asked. "My mother had white wings" Danté started to realise what Guinevere might have meant by the darkness that might consume him, a pure fey had white wings like his mother, and it is said a fey that fell to darkness had black ones, just like he has now.

Her feet almost tread on his as she trailed even closer behind, her nose once bumping into his back. Then they stepped out into a clearing, and the light of the distant stars lit up the area. They were near a cliff, Ariella could tell by the black void that greeted them a few feet away. Hanging back near the safety of the trees, she studied her mate for a moment. His silhouette was illuminated by the starlight, and she watched with parted lips as something glowed on his back, taking shape and forming wings. Wings of pale white colour, so faint they might have only been made of pure energy. So delicate and fragile, yet when they unfurled and stretched out, the large feathery shapes exuded pow

The two girls have dark forest green eyes that fade to hazel in the middle and, apparently, the recessive fae gene because they both have wings. “Well looks like the fae blood is strong in them.” Reggie says. “Yes, it does.” Zeus states. The wings on the girls are beautiful. One has iridescent silvery-green wings, while the other has iridescent silvery-blue wings. We start discussing how fast they might grow. The issue is with so much mixed in them; no one knows anything. Zaylena and Reggie’s niece showed up with her son, who was born about the same time as these three. She sets him down, and Aphrodite’s boy looks over at him.

But the moment Clara looked down and was ready to grieve, her tears froze into solid ice. It seemed like her ticket to freedom didn’t go down the drain. There he was, alive and in one piece, grinning like a maniac. A strong gust of air blew Clara’s hair in all directions as a pair of wings fluttered on his back. They were broad and plush and three times the size of his body. Feathery, with softly scalloped edges, and with just a hint of the palest blue around the tips. Clara noticed them beating very lightly.

Isla, she was a tall slender fae short hair that was nearly shaved against her head. Her eyes reminded me of Helix’s as they bulged slightly from her face. Her wings were her prominent feature. It was the first time I saw the typical fae wings. They looked like they were made of stained glass catching every light possible to cast their color on any surface they could. Slightly transparent but just enough to show a delicate softer intention. She flapped them so silently even the air currents around her weren’t disturbed as she hovered to place a few books up high on some shelves.

The realization that we are suspended high above the forest floor sends a shiver of apprehension down my spine, and I instinctively cling tighter to him, seeking solace in his reassuring presence. "Stay still. You're safe now," Valen murmurs softly against my neck, his breath warm against my skin. I heed his words, allowing myself to relax into his embrace, finding comfort in the strength of his arms encircling me. With a sense of awe, I gaze upon his wings, their beauty a testament to the majesty of the fae. Each feather is as dark as midnight, its velvety texture mesmerizing in its elegance. They unfurl with a regal grace, spanning wide to catch the currents of the wind, propelling us ever