Under His Wings Book Novels & Stories

When I pushed my phone into my pocket and raised both hands onto the backs of the golden wings, my jerremy shadows shoved on the door, until it slipped open. I stepped into the gloom of the attic room beyond. Light filtered in dusty streams through the window and onto a thin mattress, where a lean angel in nothing but indigo silk harem pants sprawled. He curled his pale violet wings around himself like the blanket and pillow that he didn’t have. His fairy tale pink hair hung over his face, as he reached out and turned the page of the poetry book that was propped in front of him, so intent on his reading that he didn’t even notice us.

My life couldn't get any better than it is now and I thank god everyday for sending this angel into my territory! ***Book 2 : Dice's little runaway will be out within the week. 5 chapters are already completed***

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.

" It said, amused. Then he let go of the priest, who concentrated. Again and again he tumbled through the air, had hugged himself and was feverishly concentrating on his wings. He was scared to death, but who didn't have it if you fell many meters without a parachute? Deep down, Godric felt a pressure slowly spreading inside him. Under the devil's watchful eyes, two gray wings appeared to stop the priest's fall. Slowly and hesitantly he opened his eyes when he no longer felt himself falling. Godric looked in astonishment at his wings, which seemed even bigger and more powerful than before. Even the gray color seemed a minor matter at that moment. Godric has never felt so free and exhilarated

“I was protecting you.” She didn’t let go of his hand after that. They stood side by side, the pines sighing in the wind, blue mountains stretching on and on. She thought of the girl who crawled out of fire, alone, and the woman standing here now—barefoot, wearing borrowed robes, hand held by someone who’d guarded her before danger even reached the door. She thought, So this is what it feels like to belong. She thought, I’d set another thousand fires for this.

he says softly. I freeze. He closes the distance between us, his piercing eyes locked on mine even in the dark. Slowly, he reaches for my cap and pulls it off, letting it fall to the ground. My hair tumbles free, the vibrant red curls unmistakable even in the dim light. “Delaney,” he repeats, his voice raw with emotion. “Baby, I didn’t have anything to do with the attack on the Underworld. You have to believe me. You have to.”

Jace carried her, and they flew with wings on Jace's huge back. Rain barely dared to open her eyes when the wind hit her body. She couldn't see Jace's face when she flew. She could only see the muscles and veins along the man's shoulders and neck. Rain could also see a pair of black wings spread wide across Jace's back, and runes adorned the entire surface of his skin.

With quickened footsteps, she dashed to the shelf and found only two books still laying. Eyes closed and the outside world shut completely. "Focus and you shall get what you want!" She silently said to herself with hands that were raised halfway to the books. As soon as she opened her eyes, the bold, gold letters glowed on the backside of the two books. They began to mechanically shake and eventually fell from the shelf to her hands. "The Waters Beneath Will Deliver—The Winds Shall Redeem Me From NERIDA." "Why are there two books?" Amethyst halted to browse the black covered book. She only got a glimpse of the inside of the book which was empty. Turning to the gold-covered book, she glimpsed

"Why are you doing this Ivy and why do you care if I write in this book or not." "I care because I know what it is like to feel like a ghost," I said. "I care because no one should have to be alone when they are trying to figure out who they are after something bad happens. I am good at this because I have walked the same path as you and I want to show you that the path does lead somewhere better. I am not a teacher and I am not a doctor but I am a survivor and that means we are the same."

In the practiced ease with which he deflected any attempt to get past the surface. And I could see how wrong I'd been to think I had him figured out. The saying was true — never judge a book by its cover. Except this wasn't just a book I'd misread. This was a story written in ink I'd never even noticed before, full of chapters no one had offered to show me. A story of betrayal and loss and the kind of family wounds that never really heal, just scar over and ache when the weather changes. And maybe — just maybe — I was starting to understand why both of them looked at each other like they'd been holding a grudge longer than they'd been holding breath.