Our Garden Of Angels นิยาย & เรื่องราว

and puffing up my cheeks in anger. Why am I here and what does he want from me anyway? "Aww she's so cute and short too," the guy beside him said walking close to me and gently pulled my cheeks. I angrily slapped his hand away from my face. I am not a child to be played with like that. "Bro can we keep her?" He asked turning to Theodore with bright puppy dog eyes. 'Who thought the devil would have a brother,' I thought, 'and a childish one at that.' I am not an object for him to be speaking about me like that.

We look like angels, I feel so clean. We walk hand in hand towards the garden. The outside of the house is so serene, the garden is a real garden. What I mean is, it has everything, every type of fruit. There is even a small stream at the end of the garden. Wow, I am just stunned. This is such a beautiful dream.

"They sent Luna and me to train at that devil's facility twice a week. The clan's children were never subjected to such danger, as their safety was paramount. But we were being groomed to be their bodyguards, so our safety didn't matter. We were assigned separate missions but in the same location, strictly forbidden from interfering with each other's tasks. Then, on an unfortunate day, a powerful devil ambushed Luna. She wasn't as strong, and I couldn't bear to watch her suffer. So, I made a choice to save her." Tears welled up in Emilia's eyes, her voice barely audible through her grief. "Our incharge, a cruel and heartless individual, witnessed my act of defiance for that I was beaten hars

He spread his wings and wrapped them around her. Lorn watched as his mother sighed and smiled. She leaned into his chest and reached up to hold his face between her hands, "No one is perfect. Not even angels, gods, titans, or whatever. You are most welcome sweet boy. That garden can be replanted now that I know my Lorna is still alive in a different way. Just take care of my girl when I cannot be with her." The angel promised his mother that he would.

Inside Lucifer and Allistair's secret garden: The air shattered like glass when Lucifer appeared. He carried Allistair in his arms as though the world itself might try to steal him away again. The garden stretched around them in haunting beauty. An endless twilight where stars glowed beneath the soil and roses bled light instead of dew. The air shimmered with faint whispers of souls bound in bloom; every petal was a fragment of his gift to Allistair, a garden grown from devotion and void.

Angel’s POV Back when Angel used to come here—years ago—with Federico and Bianca, his childhood friends, they’d once snuck behind the counter. Drunk and laughing. And they had found it. A slim metal door that led to the alley. Half opened. They had been young and stupid back then. And now, he needed that escape route. He pushed the bar’s door open. The soft ring of the bell above him sounded louder than it should have. Only two people were inside.

POV DARLENE The Garden of the Goddess was not a place of earth and water; it was a landscape of Frozen Intent. The grass beneath my boots was made of translucent silver needles that hummed when I moved, and the trees were not wood, but calcified breaths of the First Luna. Every flower that bloomed in this high-altitude sanctuary was a different shade of violet, their petals etched with the "Metadata" of every woman who had ever dared to be "Too Much".

Thinking of his angel being with anyone other than him will break his heart in two. “Why don’t clean-up for dinner son while Analina gets to know her Uncle Lucas.” “Sure.” He says than places a kiss on Analina’s lips.” “Ok, why don’t we all break here while Analina and Lucas talks.” Andre suggests. “Come let’s go out to the garden, I want to show you something.” Analina says. He follows out to the garden and way in the back away from all the other flower bushes and arrangements they come to a stunning flower garden full of all different color tulips. “This is beautiful.” “Andros had this made for me after I was taken.” She says with a huge smile spread across her face. “You are happy, aren’t

In their place grew a garden full of white gardenias. My three-year-old son, Angelo, toddled through the flowers, chasing a butterfly. He had his father’s calm, dark eyes, and my wicked smile. “Mama!” he tripped and fell onto the soft grass, holding his arms out to me, his lip trembling. I started to get up, but a tall shadow moved first, scooping him up in one smooth motion. It was Dante. He was fresh from a “meeting,” the smell of steel and blood clinging to him—a scent that never truly washed away.