Page 4 of Hellish Fae
The moment there’s a safe amount of space between me and him, Catherine sinks back into the darkness of my soul. I slump to the ground, my energy waning from her appearance.
Everything settles within me, but this just seems to set the winged man more on edge. The bass of the music tenses his shoulders, and his jaw grinds hard.
“What is that fucking sound?” He spins, and my eyes grow wide when his gaze locks on the blue glowing speaker on the messy kitchen counter.
“No!” I scramble on the sticky tile floor, but I’m not fast enough.
His beaming white sword arcs up with perfect swiftness and crashes into Alexa. Plastic rains around the room, clattering against the dark cabinets and scattering to the ground as he heaves a breath that doesn’t seem to calm him at all.
Silence drops.
That bastard!
My wings swing out, and my body collides with his, sending us both to the ground. My nails bite into his skin. His hands grapple with mine. He flips me, and the winged man dominates above me in seconds. Once more, my wrists are jerked back harshly, and I try my best to fight him off. My feet crash capriciously against him. It isn’t enough. The more I struggle, the more his hold on me tightens. Scorching heat sears into my wrists as an iron lock clicks in place in the midst of my screaming and thrashing. My teeth clench from the pain, and a dampness prickles behind my eyes that I refuse to give in to.
The two strangers lift me, and I’m gasping for an unreachable breath—just as I was the day that my father dragged me away from my kingdom.
The exact same thoughts are in my mind now as they were then.
Even when I’m beaten down to my lowest, I’ll never let them see me cry.
2
The Fae and the Fallen
More searing hot metal wraps around my torso and over my wings. It hurts, and I can smell my feathers singing from the iron, but I keep my head tipped up, my shoulders square. Not that I have a choice of posture. The bindings are forcing it at this point.
They didn’t give me pants. They didn’t brush my long silver hair. They didn’t even give me time to mourn Alexa. They just rushed me into the street looking like I’d drunk myself stupid for three years straight.
And now the two of them are taking a BFF piss together while I lie anchored to this street light, waiting for them.
They really know how to make a girl feel special.
“She’s really far gone. Never seen black wings like that on a fallen,” the wingless man says to his companion, who simply shrugs as he stares out at the glistening water.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the ocean. I forgot how consuming it smells. It rejuvenates me, and I can physically feel my magic pulling to get closer to the intoxicating nature.
The greedy humans who stomp quickly past me, the ones who couldn’t see through my glamour if they tried, I don’t miss them too much.
We can continue to coexist without knowing a thing about one another for the rest of my life for all I care. But I have to admit, their realm is safer than my own. Sure, we mock it, call it the Bin like it’s nothing more than trash to us, but the humans try. They live together in the best attempt at harmony I’ve ever seen.
While the fae realm is filled with demon hate that’s building to the brink of war.
These strangers remind me of that. They’re alluring. Good looks, big white wings, and incredible strength can only mean one thing.
Fallen angels.
And fallen angels, they turn into demons real fast. You’re one or the other. There is no in between. If you’re booted from above, you’ll shed your glorious wings, and you’ll be nothing more than a demon in no time.
The shift hasn’t happened fully to these two yet, but it’s just a matter of time. Hours, really.
But a better question: why the fuck are fallen angels wasting their time on me?
The white-winged man has a glowing sword that’s slung over his back by thin, but apparently strong, golden threads barely visible in the sunlight. The man who made a late appearance to my party this morning, his wings are gone. Charred wounds burn against his back where they once were. He’s almost done with his beautiful angelic life.
Poor fuck.
“I doubt that she’ll even want to waste their time on her,” the wingless man says as he shakes his hands below his waist in front of him. Once, twice... Well, guess it’s just twice. Can’t spare a good show for a woman who hasn’t seen a man’s body in over three years.
