Tears Of Angel Novels & Stories

Ugly sobs tear out of me, my body shaking. “How much did you hear?” He asks softly, and I shake my head. “I’m scared, Azren. I’m so scared,” I whimper. “Oh, Angel, you’re going to be okay,” he breathes, and I shake my head. “You don’t know that.” He pulls away enough to cup my face in his big hands and gently wipe my tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

She held my hand as her cold tears dripped onto my face. "Mia, your wish came true," she whispered. "They've all been caught. We rescued so many people…" I smiled as I slowly closed my eyes. Finally. Maybe this way, I could repay a fraction of my sins.

The thin sheet of paper trembled in the silence for a long time, like the final echo of a departing voice. Tears finally broke free from Marcel's lashes and splashed onto the letter, landing atop tear stains that had already dried there. "Cedric..." Marcel's fingers tightened around the page until his knuckles turned white. Delilah stared at the neat handwriting covering the letter, her chest filling with an indescribable ache. The man who had always listened to them, who had grinned foolishly and declared himself the happiest person in the world, had been forced by their betrayal to grow wings.

She muttered with her voice breaking. I just sighed and kept my straight face. “I think you need a moment with your mother,” I mumbled, excusing myself. I took a few steps back, then halted between two tombstones. I pivoted my head to check if Angel was still looking at me, and she wasn't. She’d knelt down on her mother's tomb, and was cleaning the dust away with her hand. I tilted my head back to the grave on my left, then swallowed hard. Onto the next, I shed a tear.

“In a different place again, on the same night as the second group, the third Reds group carried out their ritual. On the sixth night, the spirits of white tigers came in a rage because they were annoyed. The singing of the callers soothes them, and the wailing and sorrow of the Reds touch the souls they are calling. That is how it was, and then the third Reds group had the trust of the spirits to guard half of their essence. “However, the Fangs didn't manage to become stealth like the Reds had. In just one night, the spirits had appeared in the form of black angels. They were angry and refused to help the Fangs and, instead, allowed the essence of the realm of death to enter the souls of th

I tore off his tie and pressed it against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Hold on. I’ll call an ambulance.” “No… I can feel it… I’m not going to make it…” He lifted his ruined left hand and, with blood-soaked fingers, touched my face. “Rachel… can you forgive me?” I sighed and said, “I forgive you, Victor Medici.” A brilliant light exploded in his eyes, like he was burning through the last of his life. “I love you… Rachel… I really do… One last time… I want to hear you say it again… say you love me…”

she said. “Angel, you are killing me. I won’t deny the clothes you are wearing make my mouth water, but I wanted you when you wore that sweatshirt and those horrible mom jeans the first night we met. Nothing can take your beauty away. Do you know why I call you angel?” he asked. Zane had never thought he would tell her this, but if this was what she needed, he would give it to her. She shook her head. “I call you angel because that was what I thought you were the first time I saw you,” he told her and kissed her. He could feel she still was reluctant to accept the simple fact. And he remembered anytime they had eaten together, and she had turned down dessert, every time he had offered her a

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she whispered softly to herself, "I miss you, my little angel." Observing the phone line downstairs for any signs of intrusion, Rose sighed in relief when she found no evidence of tampering. She continued toward her room, her heart heavy with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Yet, before she could reach the solitude she sought, Prisca emerged from the shadows, her presence both unexpected and enigmatic.

He said the smell of cooking oil on my skin made him sick. One time, I bought myself a birthday cake to celebrate with him. But he threw it straight in the trash just because I'd set it on the floor for a second while unlocking the door. "Trash is where filth belongs, and that's where you belong, too." Then, why did all his rules go out the window when it came to Vivian? My eyes stung. I tilted my head back, blinking hard at the sky to hold back the tears. But then it hit me—the dead couldn't cry. I was a spirit trapped between worlds, maybe because my attachment ran too deep to let me move on.

I replied. Artemy let out a small laugh and shook his head, his lips lifting up in a small smile. “Only for you, Angel.” My eyes widened as he called me Angel, the tears falling before I could stop them. “You are making me cry,” I muttered as Artemy swiped the tears away. “Are they happy tears?” he asked, looking a bit uncertain. I nodded, speechless, and he gifted me with one of his breathtaking smiles. “Good. From now on, the only tears you will cry will be happy tears.”