House Of Beating Wings Novels & Stories

Her wings fell back into her body, screaming. Covering my mouth, a sob wrecked through me. I had forgotten she would feel the pain, too. Too worried about watching Mortus breathe his last breaths. The warrior, his eyes solemn with pity, gently gathered her in his arms, picked her up. Her head leaned into his chest, gripping his uniform. “Leave me,” she cried again. Wings sprung forth from his body, shaking his head. His wings hummed in the pattern of a hummingbird and took flight to the palace.

Something heavy slammed against the floor across the gym. Bjorn and I both turned toward the sound. For a moment I assumed someone had knocked over a piece of equipment. Then I saw her. The girl stood frozen near the far wall. And behind her— Wings. Not just wings. Angel wings. But nothing like the ones I had seen before. They were enormous, feathers darker than midnight, the surface catching the overhead lights with a faint blue iridescence when they shifted. The air around them still rippled from the force of their sudden appearance.

He couldn't wait for her to catch up; he was sure she would understand. When he got to Emily's house, he flung the door open and was shocked by what he saw. He stood at the door for a moment, trying to process what had happened. He looked at his mother; her wings had popped out. It was the same as his the first time they came out, only that hers was larger. Emily's mother also popped out her huge fiery wings. He gazed at her fire-illuminated wings. He looked around the room; it was partially destroyed; the two women were positioned as if they were getting ready for combat; Emily stood, shocked and confused.

"Raymond, you can't just show your wings like that. People will see," Ravi panicked as he hurriedly pulled Raymond inside the house after finding Raymond with torn clothes when his wings forcibly burst out in the middle of their front yard. Ravi sighed heavily; he didn't see anyone around for a moment and felt a bit relieved. Raymond's large wings were folded behind him. Ravi gazed at Raymond with understanding and asked, "Why did you go outside and reveal your wings? We've talked about this, haven't we?"

I could feel it clearly—life draining out of my ravaged body. When she'd had her fill, she climbed off me, satisfied. Her well-manicured fingers picked up a piece of silver from the table, then dropped it onto my face with disgust. "Useless thing," she sneered. "Bones so brittle. Can't even take a little roughhousing." The door creaked open. Vince Benedict, the brothel's manager, waddled in with his massive gut leading the way. He pinched the silver coin between his thick fingers and blew on it. Then he gave my limp leg a hard kick with his black cloth boot.

I pushed him a few inches away from me, “…marriage.” “But I can’t leave you alone. You don’t even have wings to get out of the suite to eat.” “Jake will escort me and look after me,” I replied with a wicked smile. He rested his forehead against mine and looked into my shining eyes. His forearms, sinking into the mattress beside my head, supported him; then he buried his hands in my hair. I felt my strands twist around his long fingers, which kept my head from moving. He spread his wings, drawing them into the center of my attention. Nathan’s black wings made him feel so stronger and larger that, lying beneath him, I felt increasingly fragile. Their feathers absorbed the sunset’s rays and gle

Betty clung to life with stubborn determination, her breaths shallow but steady. The pack house gates came into view just as dawn began to bleed into the sky. Pale light touched the stone walls, peaceful and oblivious to the carnage we were dragging home with us. My warriors howled our return, the sound fractured, victory and grief tangled together. I didn’t slow. “Clear the healing wing!” I roared through the link. “Now!” Doors flew open before I even reached the steps. Servants scattered. Warriors moved aside. I took the stairs two at a time, Betty pressed to my chest, her blood warm against my skin. Each shallow breath she took felt like borrowed time.

“This is a step up from your place, Becky.” “There are three wings to the packhouse, and then we have the basement. The north wing is where the apartments for the leadership are. The east wing is where visitors' apartments are, and the south wing is where you find the communal parts of the house is. Kitchen, meeting rooms, dining room and more.” “I don’t know why, but I pictured a rundown trailer park. Umm… Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting that to sound so judgmental and elitist.” “Okay, here’s where Bart and Grace leave us. You’re apartments are the first two doors that way. Go relax, your gear will get here once we arrange with you to pick it up.”

However, her body was aching all over. Angela felt it radiating into her blood as her heart skipped a beat. She was soon enlightened by a beating pair of wings effortlessly moving. They were fragile, like glass balancing the edge of the table. The fluttering pair of painted silk wings circles her front as another team comes into sight, creating a delicate breeze that brushes past her quilted cold cheeks. "I can't!” she repeated.

I suddenly hate the owner of this mansion for bringing me here. I glance behind me, giving the guard angry eyes. Heading towards the balcony, I spot something hanging on the wall. A picture. It piques my interest. So, I stop and stare. I haven't seen a picture hung on the walls of this mansion. On closer observation, I realize it's not a picture. But a painting. The space between my brows creases as I take in the violent display of a war. People with wings, different colors of wings pin down others with wings, driving swords through their hearts. My breath hitches as a bloody image of a war plays before my eyes, and the faint cry of Sin's voice reaches my ears.