If My Heart Had Wings Novels & Stories

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and several world-renowned dancers gave us rave reviews. Marissa wheeled me to center stage. Since the incident, this was my first time stepping onto a stage again as a choreography consultant. I bowed my head alongside the other dancers, grateful for the audience's support. This time, the flashing cameras and the eyes of strangers didn't scare me. I felt like I had found a new purpose. … Three years later, I choreographed a dance called "The Fallen Butterfly." I performed it entirely from my wheelchair and became the first dancer of my kind.

I tried to pull my hand from his and he tightened his grip. “You’ll never pull away from me wildflower, you own my heart, and I have marked yours,” he shook his head. I undid my seatbelt and slid over to him, “you’ve said that before, you marked my heart, is that how angels mark their mates, do I really have a mark inside me on my heart?” He nodded, “indeed you do, if you could see it, it would look like wings surrounding it, keeping it safe and warm,” he smiled.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting to find out.” I shook my head. Then, more quietly, I added, “I haven’t even heard a heartbeat yet.” He closed the laptop gently. “That’ll happen soon.” That word again. Always soon. --- Later that afternoon, I took a stroll around the grounds, sticking close to the path by the rose bushes. A butterfly landed on my arm, and for a fleeting moment, I didn’t dare to move. Its wings, a vibrant mix of orange and black, felt like stained glass dancing softly against my skin.

they all can say easily but I know how much I love her why no one understand it they are asking me to accept the situation of seeing her in pain untill you battered by life to you I came with all my heart I felt the same irresistible attraction uncontrollable I wanted to be yours, entirely, infinitely about my wounds I did not think merge in you only merge in you I desperately aspired to my beloved my god my soul I ran to you with sparkles and stars and we danced and we flew high up into the sky never before had I ever experienced two hearts together that were able to fly I was in heaven but it was better than heaven

How am I to reach Iria when I cannot even fly? Struggling, I willed my wings to disappear but without the potion, that is impossible to do so. I huffed, closing my eyes, willing my wings to follow my command and carry me up in the sky for it is my only chance to reach Iria. My wings shivered at first but the force I have exerted made me rise a feet, until I was high enough to soar; my heart on my throat. I watched as the army of the possessed search the alleys – upturning rubbish bin and kicking doors as though it will help them about finding me.

This feeling caused such a strong bump in my heart that it even hurt. "They should be beautiful," I caught myself talking. "I can imagine you perfectly with them. But they wouldn't be white, they would be black the same color as your eyes, maybe with a touch of red at the tips just to give a style. And I imagine they would be a little curved at shoulder height, and quite full and soft in everything else. The kind of wings that a human like me would never know how to describe until she could see it with her own eyes, and when she saw it, I wouldn't believe they could be so amazing.”

The omega managed to say in between her giggles and Irise took pity on her. Pup clapped again as if the omega had gained victory and Irise heart swelled by looking at the pup. Betty's heart swelled too by looking at her Alpha holding a pup but for different reasons. "I can't believe my own best friend, who I call my soulmate, betrayed me. " Irish said as she sat on the sofa beside Jack. The pup was playing with the Alpha's earrings and Jack let him do whatever he pleased. He looked so at ease. " You should be thanking me and my wonderful brain, otherwise you would never have to get laid. I am your Wings girl for god sake! " Betty whined and sat beside Irise, who just rolled her eyes.

I swallowed down the lie like a shot of vodka, "you killed her. You pulled out her heart and I paid with my wings." "I had to," his features morphed into the pain that tainted my blood, "it was either you or her." "You should have let it be me," I nearly screamed but I had no energy, "death is better than being shamed!" "No!" Honey swirled with onyx and a growl laced his words, "I would pull out a thousand hearts if it meant you not dying." "A thousand hearts will never repair my wings," I did yell this time because this man's words had my heart fluttering and I hated it, "why are you here? What do you want from me?"

At that very moment, she heard a sudden, loud whooshing sound outside the house. She walked out of the bathroom, stood, and listened. It was quiet. Maybe it was just a large owl passing by, she thought. As she was about to gather her clothes, another whooshing sound resounded over the roof. Through the small window, Leila spotted a pair of strong, enormous wings confidently soaring through the sky. There was no time to grab her clothes. Leila rushed upstairs to her room. She realized why she hadn’t heard the sound before; the sound was very short and light, as if the owner of the wings was deliberately restraining their strength.

My hand flies to my neck, massaging the tender skin where his fingers had pressed. And before I can stop myself—before I can think—I whisper under my breath, broken and trembling: “After all… I’m not you.” The words slip out like a prayer. Or maybe a curse. Either way, I know he hears them.