Rhysand Wings Novels & Stories

“Are you my boyfriend or my bodyguard?” He held his ring in front of me, my eyes were magnetized by the intricate carvings on it. “Guardian angel, remember?” He straightened up on his seat, and in a louder than necessary voice, he said, “And unlike the last one you had, I have a sword, not a halo. And my wings are black, not white. It’s time they realized who they will have a problem with the next time they hurt even a single hair in your body!” My eyes widened at him. He took my hand in his again, and then he bent down to kiss my fingers once again. “I love you, angel.” He didn’t even whisper that. I was sure many people around us heard everything he said.

She never lets Meandra breathe for a second without harming her. I rolled my eyes and focused my attention on Meandra. She wasn’t helping, wasn’t holding herself at all. She was nothing but dead weight in his arms. Her head lolled back, hair trailing like a river. I cursed under my breath, hurriedly shifting my grip. I pulled her closer, tucking her head against my shoulder to keep it from hanging awkwardly. The fragile warmth of her breath ghosted my neck—too faint, too shallow. Her arms dangled uselessly, brushing against my side with every step I took. I tightened my grip until my muscles burned. Each movement jostled her slightly—her legs sagging, her head slipping—and every tiny shift s

my chest, I had never seen him before. He was tall and muscular but not nearly as large as his father or grandfather; the panic couldn’t be from his physical image. The healed wounds on my chest suddenly felt fresh once again as I looked at Luccus, his jet-black hair had the most unique streak of white, just like a wolf from my nightmares. His eyes met mine and my entire body froze, his eyes were dark not in color but in light; they were emotionless and dangerous. I knew these eyes; these eyes kept me awake night after night for many years. “Fuck he’s coming. I’m sorry if we had known we wouldn’t have let you come tonight, we would already be back at our pack.” Clarissa urgent whispers seem

Each lunge sent a ripple of pain through my side. I winced but didn’t stop. Pain meant progress. Pain meant I was alive. “You should be resting.” I froze at the sound of his voice. Rhysand stepped out of the shadows, arms folded, and expression unreadable. He was shirtless, sweat-slicked, his hair damp like he’d just finished a session of his own. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, not meeting his eyes. “You’re wincing.” “Doesn’t mean I’m not fine.”

His hands found my waist as another Algoth dove overhead, close enough that I could smell its foul breath. “Get her out of here!” Rhaenan shouted, cutting down a banshee as it screamed past. Valen didn’t hesitate. He met Rhaenan’s eyes, gave a single nod, then turned back to me. Without a word, he lifted me into his arms. His wings unfurled behind him—huge, dark, and glinting with faint red along the edges. They hadn’t been visible a moment ago. But now, they stretched wide, powerful. “You can’t fight and fly at the same time if more come at you,” I said, breathless, my arms tight around his neck.

Eryndor's strength surged, bolstered by the success of their timely intervention. They encamped beside the majestic Pyrope River, nestled between huge towering mountains whose rugged peaks blushed reddish above the glaciers. The brilliant blue sky was adorned with a sweeping array of orange-hued clouds, as the sun's rays pierced through the cloud masses, casting a kaleidoscope of warm tones. The hot orange hue danced across the river's blue waves, infusing the water with a fiery glow and dance. The stage was set for Aria's and Lyra's troops to ignite, their spirits burning with determination to confront the Rogue Werewolf Troops.

I know what I must do, what we all must do. To my left, Akin stands tall, his obsidian wings sharp and sleek, the wind tugging at his tunic as his eyes sweep the battlefield like a soldier gauging his next strike. To my right, River’s wings are the color of deep, angry storms. They shift with energy, crackling faintly as his fists curl at his sides. The fire in him burns steady now, no longer a threat but a force I can trust.

“At the end. Right before you collapsed. From your back came… I don’t even know how to describe it. Shadows that solidified. Two large, dark extensions that spread out behind you like raven wings. Black, sharp-tipped. They lasted a few seconds, then dissolved when you lost consciousness.” Wings. The word hung between us like something neither of us knew how to touch. Black wings. Raven wings. Coming out of my back. “Is that true?” I asked the voice inside. “The wings? Yes. They’re new. Pretty, right? I think they’re growing. Your Lycán’s blood feeds us well.” *Growing?* “What else is going to grow? Horns? A tail?” “Don’t be dramatic. The wings are functional. The claws are functional. Everyt

I answered Whiz truthfully. “That poses a few different problems for us June bug. The first being I can’t change her identity again without changing her appearance completely. We had Clara cut and style her hair differently but due to the pregnancy we couldn’t dye it and that red hair of hers is hard to hide. Secondly without a new picture to go with her new appearance creating new documentation is completely out of the picture. For now, she is stuck being Ophelia which means we need to find somewhere even more remote than Mentone.” Whiz sighed deeply before continuing on. “I know you aren’t a fan of asking for favors but I think the time has come to call in Hawk. He is the only one I know t

“You’re the perfect candidate!” Evander strolled towards Rhys again. “Do you not see it?” Yes, the Alpha had two dangling diamonds from his right ear. Rhys hadn’t noticed that before. Was he trying to copy how pirates look? That was how much Rhys was trying to avoid the topic. Evander’s earpiece took his attention a moment more.