Reverse Angel Fangs Novels & Stories

Snarling, his eyes changed into a darker shade of black, long sharp fangs at the tip of his bark. A dead Angel. Kaimara recognized him. " One! " He began counting. Kaimara took no chances. If Anthony was a dark Angel, then he was dangerous to her. She ran. Polled through the opened door whilst burying her peeling face in her palm. She needed to do something to her face. No one could see her in such a state. She looked like a beast. Ephonso! He came to mind. Yes, she would call Ephonso.

he murmured, just before his fangs grew. I admired, between horrified and drawn, how his fangs came up to his neck. Contrary to what I expected, it was not something grotesque, nor horrifying. His lips were closed over the already open wound on his neck. Not a drop of blood around him. Her hands were clenched on his body, showing how much she was holding back. Yes, Donovan Vladimir San Victores was biting my brother, but it was not at all how I thought it would be. In another context, it sure could be erotic.

Alex smiled, his faint fangs catching the light. Always.

Blood unfurled like silk. Heads snapped toward the sound. Time slowed. “ANGEL!” Philip and Louisa froze. Faith surged forward. “I have to help her!” Scott caught her and held on, iron-hard. “Faith—no! You’ll die too!” The thing breached. A long neck whipped from the water, scaled and segmented, ridges jagged as broken armor. Its eyes burned—a hellish red. Between its jaws, Angel hung limp, limbs wrong, ribbons of scarlet trailing.

“That’s my woman. You are nothing compared to her.” Vincenzo stared at me for a full thirty seconds. Then suddenly, he burst into laughter, bending forward as he laughed uncontrollably. “This is too good.” He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “But you’re wrong. She’s not your woman.” He took a pause before spelling it out, “She’s your enemy.” My breathing hitched. Pain shot through the severed fingers on my left hand, spreading through my entire body. My voice came out hoarse. “Enough. Tell me, how do I make Rachel come back to me?”

And his eyes were golden, amber, burning, flashing red when the light hit them just right, like embers hidden beneath ash. Scars covered his knuckles. Old white ones. Fresh pink ones. He had been fighting something for years, something that left marks, and he hadn't bothered to hide them. They said he didn't care what people thought. They said he was past pretending to be civilized. My fangs ached worse now, pulsing with my heartbeat. My blood turned to lava in my veins, hot and urgent and wrong. The tray wobbled dangerously as my body reacted to him, every cell screaming mate mate mate while my brain tried desperately to catch up and shut it down. This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not

“Angela, I meant Angela.” “Do you like this woman, Monster?” There was a knowing look on Fang's face that I hated. “No, she’s the biggest bitch I’ve ever met. I most definitely don’t like her.” Maybe it was the way I said it but the two older men in front of me laughed. Great big belly laughs. “Oh, he likes her.” Hansel elbowed Fang. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he does.” He side-eyed Fang. “I’ve seen that look on someone’s face before.”

it would lead to envy, and envy isn't a good thing. I quickly rippled from where I was seated, and my fang quickly elongated, as it was now being seen out of my mouth. ( Fang is the name of a supernatural creature's teeth ) Lucas also rises from where he's being seated, and we both run outside. Lucas is a vampire so his nails are already elongated, and likewise his Fang's. The wolf that had just come in to give the information quickly less the way. My eyes were filled with anger because for thousands of years.... no pack has been able to summon up the full courage to attack my pack.

Frosty swamp water spurted when the edges of her right wing hit the murky swamp floor instead of piercing Angelo like a shish-kebab. “Woops! You sure are aggressive, woman!” Angelo twirled, finding the balance between his body and his wings as he made sure to fold his wings. The short curls that riddled his head swayed midair, covering his line of vision for a split second. Oops! I miss – or not. The reflection that Angelo glimpsed on the swamp’s murky waters was the image of Maleficent’s glowering emerald orbs – as if she won. On cue, the left wing which he forgot that existed struck his right shoulder from behind, earning Maleficent a grunt from Angelo.