Her Worst Nightmare
With his forehead still touching the wall, he turned cautiously, tilting it to reveal what he'd been so desperately trying to conceal from me.
Ethan's eyes were pools of obsidian black. All the white had been eradicated. The blue iris was gone. The only colour that remained was the pupil that now burned an iridescent orange fire, that could have been mistaken for rage if it wasn't for the overwhelming sense of sadness that consumed his expression. Underneath his eyes, that same inky-stain that plagued his hands, was stretching down over his cheekbones, the tendrils snaking out from the edge like feathery veins under his skin.
Angel wings , I thought. Like angel wings across his face .
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