Pure Angel Novels & Stories

Angel One thing that I hate more than pink is Monday. I'm not a morning person, and the beeping of my alarm is annoying me as hell. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Shut! Beep! The! Beep! Fuck! Beep! Up!

She goes to the bathroom and gets herself ready. Last night, after John and Michael had left the room, Marianne felt that she had been a burden to everyone. She didn’t move to where she was and had been thinking about a lot of things. The day she woke up at the hospital, she saw Dr Peter Bennett - the doctor that had been tending to her is actually the brother that they all thought was dead. There was also Annie whom she is very grateful for, and then the sudden appearance of a husband, Francois Davidson - the Perfect Soldier.

Her physique was so perfect, her up the knee mini skirt did no justice to enveloping her perfectly sexy thighs. Her almost pale skin colour matching her choice of suit left Lucian wondering if she knew what she was doing with all of that dressing and choices. Lucian had seen so many beautiful women since his stay on Earth, but nobody told him Angels lived freely around too. Lucian had his mind going haywire at the sight of this woman that had such impact on him. He dropped his pen and rested his back on his chair, tilting his head up and spinning the chair gently sideways as he kept on feeding his eyes.

I appreciated, calming my own self down. I swear to God, in all these years of my life, I've never been this nervous. But it was all Angel's doing. Eversince Angel came into my life, my heart has developed this unusual habit of beating fast, uncontrollably fast. I feel like I'm surrounding by certain feelings that I'm unable to shake off me. Everytime Angel is near me, I feel calm; at peace. She my solace. The solution to all my problems. The shine in her beautiful glassy blue eyes always seem to draw me in like whirlpool of emotions that flows in her. Her captivating innocence make me possessive about. It attracts me; the more I stare at her, the more I fall.

These flashes had happened several times and they were all blurry. But this time, they were crystal clear. Parts of his past life flashed before him and of the young woman whose face had always been blurred and whose face he would have killed to clearly behold. But, this time, he could see her face clearly and it was a very familiar face. His Laura. His Carrot. His Angel. He felt different. He felt as if he had been reborn. His eyes found them again. This time she had a small smile on her face and was slowly but hesitantly giving the bastard her hand to slide in the ring.

Slowly, I turned my head and came face-to-face with a who could only be described as a god in human form. Oh my God! My subconscious screeched in disbelief. God sent an angel indeed. I mean only angels can be this good looking, right? He had dark silver eyes and jet black hair which made him look divine, complementing his god-like look. Strands of his hair fell on his face. His sharp jaw seemed as if it was carved by God himself. And the silver lip ring attached to his pale pink lips was my last undoing. With eyes glued to his lips, the only thoughts that claimed my mind were;

Of course, a faith too impure would be automatically filtered away by the angel’s bloodline, the rest could be accepted and thus followers were another tainters of an angel. Praying to the holy fountain was to give up this faith accumulated and in turn receive something purer, a blessing termed ‘holiness’. Only a saint could never be tainted, if the average angel’s holiness was about 90 to 99 then thiers was a full-on 100.

I fired up the Supernatural Media app and looked up his name. An image appeared of a man so pretty that it took a moment to realize that I hadn’t gotten the wrong Azriel. He gazed into the camera through pale blue eyes that glowed like crystals held up to the moon. His long hair was the same creamy white as his feathers and made my honey blonde look like dishwater. Everything about his features was soft, from his rounded cheekbones, to his full, pink lips, to his delicate jaw. I tore my gaze from the enchanting image. This angel was a work of art.

Silver hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. A face that might have been handsome if not for eyes that held all the warmth of winter ice. He stopped about fifty feet from the motel, studying the building with the careful assessment of someone who'd walked into ambushes before. "Aurelia Veythorne," he called out, his voice carrying clearly through the night air. "I am Azrael, Purifier of the Third Circle. I mean you no immediate harm. I simply wish to talk." I exchanged a glance with Zane. He shook his head fractionally. Don't respond.

Damon’s POV I had no idea this was even possible, I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. Angel is floating, literally floating off the ground a few inches, she’s glowing a golden yellow. There is an aura around her that everyone can physically see. It’s a moment in history that everyone will talk about for years to come.