Satan Wings Novels & Stories

I blinked, all wide-eyed and innocent. "What are you talking about? I'm not Evelyn Everton. My name's Evelina Everton." Their faces froze as I laid it out. "What, planning to swap my score? Too late. I legally changed my name before the SATs—eighteen, remember? The one who tested was Evelina Everton. "As for Evelyn Everton, the one you messed with? Her family doesn't play nice. Hope you're ready for the fallout."

Respectfully told him to leave her hand , smiling lightly to cut her head and go speeding kitchen and her heart beating quickly because of her fear and put the Chinese and rushed to the room , Rene then ... entered the wing to stand Mira quickly "get out" expelled Zain as usual to come out without any discussion or word until I stood Rene fear staring Satan The one who approached her with a silent look, "Give me your hand," asked in a calm tone And she didn't run out, but she kept staring at his face nervously. Zayn exhaled to come forward, holding her hand, raising it. Rush held her tightly, closed his eyes, and then started mumbling several words that she could not understand or even know

Lucien The gray, suffocating canopy of the Chicago sky was exactly as I remembered it. Freezing, bleak, and smelling of industrial exhaust and old blood. The private jet had barely taxied to a halt at our secure hangar before the door lowered, and I stepped out into the biting wind. Waiting on the tarmac was a fleet of three black, armored Suburbans. Silas stood by the middle vehicle, his heavy wool coat pulled tight against the chill, a cigarette burning down between his knuckles.

"For my fated omega." He tears the parchment away, his breath hitching as he reads the title embossed in silver leaf: The Legacy of Our Moonmark. The entire hide binding is hand-painted, depicting a raw, dominant image of Jone and Michael locking jaws during their sacred binding ritual under the blood moon. The artistic style is unmistakable, executed by the Silvermoon Muse, an anonymous rogue painter whose street murals across the Silvermoon Capital Jone had defended for winters.

It was a welcome relief not to have her arguing with him, and he settled himself in the seat opposite her after instructing the pilot of their destination and their need to hurry. Angel’s silence didn’t last very long and almost as soon as they were up in the air, she seemed to revert right back to her old self. “You know we can’t just walk right into Italy, right? Not since supernaturals came out of the closet.” Layon couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You remember who I am, right?” he responded and watched her face drop with distaste at his need to be so bigheaded. “That doesn’t mean you can ignore the rules,”

They were both oblivious to the pictures that were being taken of them. Lifting his head, he smiled at Taz. “I have something for you.” Angel handed him the white shirt box. He opened it and removed the cut, letting the box and tissue paper fall to the ground. The first thing that she saw was that it was not her cut, and yet it was. The center patch was newer, the devil, who now had multicolored braids, sat on the motorcycle with a halo hanging haphazardly on the left horn, giant angel wings flowed out behind him. The bottom rocker declared her to be Sinners Daughter and the top one proclaimed her as The Devil Herself.

She let the betrayal coat her like ash. And then she got up. Washed her face. Put on his favorite sundress. And went to church. Because it was Thursday. Because the quarterly audit was in six days. Because if she was going to burn the whole damn thing down, she needed to know what kind of kindling it was made of first. The sanctuary still smelled like guilt. Even after the candles were snuffed out and the choir robes were pressed and packed away, it lingered—in the carpet, in the wood, in her throat. The smell of devotion gone sour. Of secrets soaked into the upholstery. Of her own obedience rotting in real time.

" They hopped in their car and peeled out, leaving me alone outside the venue. The wind bit into me. I tugged my coat closer and waved down a cab home. All my stuff had been thrown outside, dumped across the doorstep like garbage. The maid looked sorry as she said, "Mr. and Mrs. Swain told me you have to leave and never come back." I didn't charge in to yell at them. I just packed up quietly, then walked away with my things. That very night, I got on a plane out of town, heading to a hidden research base run by the National Space Agency. Just before I left, I texted everyone, "I, Wanda Swain, am officially done with the Swains for good and by choice."

Satan looked at the long stream of blood patches and licked his lips like a hungry beast. "I am not coming with you," Brianna yelled at Satan- spatting a few drops of her saliva on Satan's face. "I am the one to decide your fate." Satan pushed Brianna onto the ground, and in that process, Brianna hurt her elbow and knees. He then gestured for his men to put Brianna in the car. "Bastard, Jerk! You pile of bollocks!" Brianna uttered a course of curses, but they did not affect Satan. He only passed her a creepy smile sending chills down her spine.

the man asked, pointing to a huge wing decoration in the middle of the room. "Usually the black wings refer to Lucifer, the fallen angel, Satan. Black wings are usually used as a symbol of satan worship, that's what I know." "You're clever, child." The man said as he rubbed Alexa's nose. "You're not afraid?" "As long as they're men, their weakness is in their crotch. I will fuck them and they will worship me as their new satan." Alexa said in a haughty tone. The man smiled. And that smile! Oh God, Alexa recognised that smile. Even more, Alexa felt that she had met this man somewhere before, but she couldn't remember.