Jet-black Wings Novels & Stories

Jason asks, A frown appears on his face before he answers sarcastically, “Is there any other meaning of wings? They are huge. So huge, that they touch the floor.” Closing my eyes, I picture my wings, just like Nyx taught me. Seconds later, I feel their weight behind. His surprised gasp fills the room, making me open my eyes. I stare at him and, with my voice trembling, I ask, "You mean wings like these?” His mouth hangs open as he nods. “Yes,” he whispers, his eyes still wide with shock. “They are exactly the same. The only difference is that hers are black.” Fucking hell. That’s the only thought that was on my mind as I registered his words.

Ravi didn't care about their past, but such disrespect was unacceptable. Thunderous laughter erupted from Adrian. He advanced closer to Ravi, who refused to divert his gaze from the intense eyes of the silver-haired man. Adrian's wings spread wide, failing to intimidate Ravi into fear. Instead, Ravi stepped forward and growled, "You better do what you want soon; I'm truly disgusted by looking at you."

Odin shouted out as he pointed behind me. I pulled away from Traian and walked over to the floor-length mirror. My eyes were jet black with gray swirling vortex instead of white, and it looked as if I had storm clouds circling my pupil. I turned to the side slightly and saw my new wings, they were stunning, not their usual white opaque sort of look, no, now they were a dark ash gray with a blue, green and purple sheen, like on a magpies wings. They were a lot larger than before and much more magnificent.

Beneath the surface of Aiyana’s fury, something darker had stirred. Not born of her. Not from the bloodline. But drawn by it. “I think waking her stirred more than just the chamber,” Amara said slowly. “Something answered.” Damascus frowned, “From where?” Jax muttered, “The better question is… from what?” None of them answered. A sharp cry pierced the air above them. Amara tilted her head up. A hawk—pure white, wings tipped in silver—circled high overhead, then dipped once and vanished into the trees. A sign. Or a warning.

(Black butterflies. They weren't beautiful, not like the azules and amarillas that fluttered around Dragon when he was a child—innocent specks of color in his small world. These were dark and menacing. Their wings like shards of obsidian, sharp and glinting. They poured from the crumbling walls, an endless stream of blackness against the decaying adobe. Wings armored like beetle chitin, glinting with miniature skulls etched into the blackness. No—not just skulls. Faces. His face.

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.

she begged, her eyes rolling closed “E-Eagle.” Eagle looked to me, amused at Sylvia’s pitiful attempt to warn me of him. He simply walked to me and placed a dripping hand on top of my head. He had no mask like Stripes or Flame to hide his emotions. He smiled up at Sylvia, showing his bloodied mouth. His black jacket shielded the back of his neck with a flared collar but had glistening golden studs running down each front half; making him more noticeable in the dark. His dark grey jeans were distressed down the claves and were splattered with blood. The tops of his deep red boots had the same spikes ringing them as Flame’s. Fear clenched my gut when I glanced at the spotless, golden spikes be

I’m speechless. Without another thought, I move closer and appraise his face and wings. Kell simply stands there and lets me inspect him. Somehow I manage to snap out of my trance and extend my hand to touch his wings. Kell takes a hesitant step forward and whispers. “Are you okay, Amara?” I nod my head as I walk around him to get a better look at his Nephilim wings. They are beautiful with black and ash colored feathers. His expression is wary as he waits for me to react. Who can blame him? He took a great risk revealing himself to me. It must have been so hard for him to do.

Her hands held my hand, trying to stop me as I choked her effortlessly. “This is not fun,” I said and threw her to the wall. She spilled blood to the floor as she panted. Her hair almost covered her face. I looked at my wings in awe. It was colored maroon but tainted with black like charcoal. Its feathers were like spikes, like a tiger’s fangs. And it could put six men unconscious in a flap. “I want to make her taste torture in my ways,” I said. I took a step closer. But then she pointed her hand at Kylo and manipulated her body like a puppet.

The skin beneath that black ink was a normal tan, but his eyes blazed canine yellow. The light sidhe were both men. One was auburn-haired with skin like roasted chestnuts; darker even than Aideen. He had talon-tipped bird claws instead of hands and they flexed at his sides; the tips clicking together impatiently. Behind him, a pair of wings shivered; their tawny, topaz feathers ruffling with anticipation. My first thought wasn't one of admiration—although, they were pretty wings—it was one of confusion. How did he manage to get those wings in that little car?