Wingless

by Taylor Lavati

  "Let me see!" Annie says, looking at my arms and legs.

  "Two hours," I tell her, wrinkling my nose as I tease her.

  "Come on, a peek?" she asks back.

  "Nope." I stick out my tongue. "So, what's next on your quest away from everything Angel?"

  "Dinner?" Hare asks, rubbing his stomach like he's hungry.

  "I could eat," she says, shrugging her shoulders.

  "Dinner it is."

  We drop Hare off on our walk back to Annie's apartment. He wants to stay at the sanctuary, despite the fact that nobody is there. He doesn't have a family anymore. So, there's nowhere else for him to go back to. When Annie offered to let him stay at the apartment, he agreed, but only after he went back to the sanctuary and got his and Hannah's things sorted through.

  "Wait!" Annie says as Hare starts to head into the building. "Show me your tattoo now," she says. Hare reaches down and pulls his shirt up, revealing his tattoo, which is placed right over his heart on the left side of his chest.

  In a beautifully masculine, but curly, script is his sister's name: Hannah. There's a heart wrapped up in the two h's. It's black, but not hard. It's a perfect way to remember his sister but to also move on.

  "I love it," Annie says. She runs to him and hugs him. Then she leans back and kisses his cheek. He smiles down at her, goofy as always, and then enters the sanctuary alone. Annie and I move together as we head to her apartment.

  It's chilly as summer starts to end here on Earth. I pick up Annie's hand and lace our fingers together. A spark ignites where our skin meets and takes my body on a wild ride. I look over at Annie, and her smile is so wide, I picture her taking the journey with me.

  "So are you going to stay with me at the apartment?" she asks, breaking through the dark, silent night.

  "Do you want me to?" I counter.

  "Well, it would give us a chance to rebuild our friendship," she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

  "You've convinced me," I say, squeezing her little hand.

  We step into her apartment building and make quick work of the steps. I don't know how she does this every day, because it kills me. I hate having to walk. She unlocks the door and steps in, holding it open so I can squeeze through.

  "It's been two hours," she says, stepping towards me.

  "You show me yours, I'll show you mine," I say, lifting my shirt up and over my head by the hem. I reach backwards and pull the wrap off of me. There's a jelly liquid that sticks to the plastic and me, but the guy said it would soak into my skin.

  She faces me in just her bra before I can turn around first. I can't stand looking at her when she's barely dressed and so confident and beautiful. I may be an Angel but right now, I don't feel like one. She gasps from behind me and I can feel her move closer to me.

  "It's beautiful," she whispers. Her fingers lightly graze over the outline and shivers erupt across my skin.

  "Let me see yours," I say, still facing away from her.

  "Okay," she answers. I peek over my shoulder and see her turned around. Then I see the tattoo on her back. The wings are much more delicate than mine. They're shaded, too. Where mine are dark with black lining, hers are more feminine with little bursts of white and blue melted together.

  Her tattoo is actually a lot bigger than I thought it would be. The tips of her wings go over her shoulder and a little bit down her arm. Then the bottom hits right where she has these two dimples at the base of her back. The feathers reach around her ribs, seemingly hugging her.

  "It's perfect," I tell her. I take her shirt and put it over her head before something wrong happens between us. I don't want to force anything or push her to do something she doesn't want. I also don't know my fate, so I don't want to make things more complicated than they already are.

  "I'll take the guest bedroom. Tomorrow we can shop and get everything we need," I tell her. I start to walk back to the bedroom, but before I can get far, she grabs me and spins me around.

  "I never really got a chance to thank you for everything. You saved my life, Micha."

  "You don't have to keep apologizing. I'd do anything to keep you safe," I tell her honestly.

  "Well, thanks," she says. She pushes onto her tiptoes and before I can do a thing, she presses her lips against mine. I'm shocked at her forwardness. I don't move. I don't breathe. This can't be real. I've dreamt of kissing this girl for as long as I've known her. And now it's coming true.

  At the realization that this is real, I kiss her back. I don't go crazy or anything. I just move with her, letting our lips explore each other. She's shy, yet at the same time, she knows what she wants. When I lean back and break the kiss, I wish that I could have just one more second.

  "See you in the morning," she says and retreats to her bedroom. I'm left standing alone in the hallway, thinking about that kiss.

  EPILOGUE

  I've waited forever for this moment. I fly alongside my favorite six wives, the Demons that we've raised trailing just behind us. We ride with their complete and utter devotion. We rule them, and they obey us without a single thought.

  The portal I've created should only last about six hours. Last time I created a portal, I was forced to do it in a city setting where tons of humans could observe and question it.

  I'm not forced to do that now.

  I deliver my Demons to Earth in a remote area, so that nobody will even know they're here until it's too late. I am the last to leave my Kingdom, and I turn back to take it all in.

  If everything goes smoothly, this will be the last time that I have to live down here. This will be the last time this is called my kingdom. I will soon rule all of earth and it shall be mine.

  Humans will cease to exist. Humans will be eradicated from earth. Soon, they will be just an ancient civilization that was too stupid to survive. My Demons outnumber them. My Demons over power them.

  Rem can't touch me anymore. I'm Earth-bound. The worst that he can do is send down his little disciples of Archers and whatever else they're called. I'll be forced to kill Angels, but that's the least of my worries.

  With powers I can use on Earth I'm unstoppable, untouchable, invincible. I reach my steady hand over my back and ruffle my dark black feathers.

  That Archer just handed over his wings like they were nothing. He hand delivered his powers into my body for a girl. A barely Nephalem girl. The Angels are more human than they think.

  If I have to kill them, too, then so be it. My wives will support me. My followers will support me After all, Earth is only the pit stop before I burn down the Upper Veil and all those who live there.

  Soon, I will rule it all.

  Acknowledgements

  First of all, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read WINGLESS. This was a book that I could not write fast enough. I loved creating the worlds in WINGLESS and I hope that you enjoyed them, too.

  And don't worry. There's more of Annie and Micha in the next installment, BOUNDLESS!

  Please, if you have a space moment, leave a rating or review on Amazon, Goodreads, or wherever you found this book. I love all the feedback and read every single one.

  I want to give a special thank you to my husband, of course. He was actually a big part of creating this book. We bounced ideas off each other and it was very rewarding seeing the book come together.

  My beta readers, Christine and Laura, you guys rock! This book moved fast and we hit the ground running once I finished my first draft. You were awesome, rolling with the punches, and you're feedback was superb.

  Thank you Danielle, from Prose and Cons editing. Not only did she do a phenomenal job editing this novel, and doing it really fast for me, but she created the cover for me!

  And lastly, thank you to everyone who has continued to support me in writing. I love creating books, and because you all buy and read them, I can continue! I appreciate my blog followers the most because you're constantly reading, commenting, and participating in all of my posts. You rock!!

  Books
by Taylor Lavati

  The Curse Books

  The Thousand Year Curse

  The Curse of Betrayal

  The Broken Curse (Late 2014)

  A Reliant Love

  Wingless Series

  Wingless

  Boundless (Early 2015)

  Thank you for taking the time to read WINGLESS! Enjoy a free excerpt from my novel, THE THOUSAND YEAR CURSE!

  CHAPTER ONE

  high school hell

  I pull in a ragged breath, hoping to regain my composure, but it's no use. My heart races and spots blur my vision, making me stumble out of the bathroom. I collapse onto my bed and the chills take over, racking my body in long tremors of terror.

  With numb hands, I reach towards my nightstand for my cell phone, needing my crutch. I send out a quick SOS text and pray that Junior is awake.

  Shooting pain travels up my chest, making my short breath even shorter. With a lack of oxygen, I start fearing that I might pass out and the full on panic starts to bleed through me.

  "What's wrong?" A worried voice rings out in the room seconds later. My vision is still spotty, but I'd know that voice anywhere.

  "I can't—" I start to say, but I don't have enough breath to even complete a damn sentence. I'm frustrated with myself for letting the panic take over me again so I start banging my fists on the bed, hating this empty person I've become.

  "Shh. I've got you now, Ryder." Junior soothes me, holding me tightly in his arms so I can't break free. I try to fight him for a second but eventually melt into his arms loving the comfort he continuously brings me.

  Whenever he comes to my rescue like this, it brings me back to my first panic attack about two years ago. I used to be this bubbly, outgoing, typical popular girl in school, but then one day, my life turned upside down.

  My best friend, Becca, screwed me over. She spread nasty rumors about me to the entire school, turned all of our friends against me, and left me to rot on the gym floor. If it weren't for Junior finding me curled up in the fetal position, I would have stayed there paralyzed all day.

  I'll never forget the way he stood by me, no matter what people said. He took the heat along with me and has been an outcast ever since. The only difference is that he genuinely doesn't give a shit and moved on, making new friends who also have the same I-don't-care attitude.

  He could care less what Becca or Kevin, the school power couple, think. He could careless if they call him an emo kid for his colored mohawk or a band geek for playing the drums.

  Whereas I let the torture sit inside of me and eat me from the inside out. Is it so bad to want to be included and have friends? I don't think so, but through the past few years, I've learned a lot—never trust anyone.

  After I'm quiet and coming down from the panic attack, Junior lets me go. I rub my arms up and down, the chills still present in the background, but no longer a contributor to my pain.

  "I'm sorry," I tell Junior, hating how he has to come to my aid all of the time. I definitely feel like I hold him back, but I have to be selfish—I need him to get through these.

  "Don't apologize. I don't mind," he says, grabbing my desk chair and sitting himself down on the comfortably across from me. He knows the drill by now and if that attack shows anything, it's that the night is going to be a long one.

  "I hate that they're starting up again," I say, burrowing my head into my hands, hoping that I can just crawl into a dark hole and never come out.

  "It's just because you're nervous about tomorrow," he says, "After that, I'm sure they'll fade away again. You just have to know you're okay. I'm here for you," he says, rolling over to me and making me look up at him.

  "Okay," I say, not really convinced.

  "I know when you're bullshitting me," Junior says when I roll my eyes in his direction. He tackles me onto the bed, pulling his hand up my side to tickle me. He starts a war and a few minutes later, I can barely breathe—but this time for a good reason.

  We end up watching reruns of The Walking Dead in each other's arms, but it's exactly what I need the night before the start of my senior year. I fall asleep in the crook of his neck, but my sleep is far from sweet. I've been having bizarre dreams night after night that leave me restless.

  Sept 1

  Something is wrong with me. Strange things are starting to happen.

  I don't understand it. I can't tell anyone.

  I can't tell my dad. He doesn't even know about the bullying at school.

  He'll make me see a therapist and I can't go there.

  Yesterday, I shut my laptop and the screen cracked in half.

  It's not like I slammed it.

  I just pushed the top down and the corner shattered.

  That night at dinner I put a plate on the table and it crumbled into pieces.

  Dad thought I dropped it—I couldn't tell him the truth.

  What's happening to me?

  It's Monday morning, the start of my senior year, and I have no idea how I am going to make it. I'm dreading seeing students and teachers. I'm dreading my classes. Everything about today scares me to my core.

  Anxious butterflies stick in my throat like cotton as I think about the day and what it entails. I'm pretty sure that by the end of the day I may throw them up.

  High school is supposed to be the best years of my life, yet it has become the polar opposite. I'm not sure why I'm freaking out, because I don't think I can drop any lower in the social hierarchy of high school—even if I tried. Plus, I should be used to this kind of treatment by now.

  Grabbing my backpack off of my neat bedroom floor and my keys off of my desk, I glance at my cracked laptop screen, hating whatever has been going on with me. I stop at the door to give myself a last glance in my full-length mirror. Today I am going for invisible—my usual ensemble.

  My brown hair hangs at my waist. I don't even bother to style it anymore, since the long locks are straight all by themselves. I have the barest amount of makeup on—just some eyeliner and mascara, since my eyes are my best feature.

  People are constantly telling me how cool they are. To be honest, my eyes annoy the crap out of me. Sometimes they're green, sometimes they're blue. They change with the weather, or my mood. Sometimes even my outfit affects them. It's stupid. Why can't they just pick a color and stick with it? My eyes makes me different which I don't like.

  I fix my button up shirt so it lays flat against my stomach. I'm not fat, but I'm not skinny either by any means. I'm pretty average. A little short, but a normal weight—normal me.

  I'm wearing my favorite pair of skinny jeans. They have a little bit of yellow paint on them from when I painted my room over the summer. The paint makes them seem cool, or so I think.

  I'll go for the artistic effect, which is pathetic because I don't have an artistic bone in my body. In fact, I'm not good at anything. Not sports, instruments, or anything that requires a skill.

  I used to run a lot to clear my head. I never ran track or anything. I did it mostly for myself. The past couple of months, running has been the last thing on my mind. I just don't feel motivated anymore.

  Clearing my head, I scurry down the stairs, jumping over the last two. I smile when I make a perfect, yet noisy, landing at the bottom. Nobody's home, so I can act like a ten-year-old if I want to.

  I grab an apple along with the bag lunch my dad left me from the kitchen and hurry out the front door. I spot my little Honda Accord sitting in the driveway looking all old and decrepit. I've beat this baby up, but the car gets me from point 'a' to point 'b' so I can't complain. The exterior is purple with a little bit of rust lining the edges. I change the oil every four thousand miles, though, so it runs like it's brand new.

  Since I am running a little late, I assume Junior caught the bus. He didn't show up here for breakfast, which is a good sign he's gone. He's more or less my neighbor, which is how we originally met.

  My dad was alone with me when they first moved here. I think he felt bad when I never had play-dates
, so we went over to welcome them. Junior's dad and mine actually hit it off. It ended up that Junior and I became best friends, too. We've all been a second family to each other ever since.

  As I pass his house, I spot his mom, Janie, sitting on the stoop with her morning coffee. It gives me confidence to see her in the exact same place she is every morning. It almost makes it feel like summer isn't over, that it's just another day. I wave out my window in greeting.

  "Hi, Janie!" I call out as I slow the car to a stop in front of her mailbox.

  "Hey, honey! How you feeling?" she asks, her eyes skeptical yet proud as they roam my face. Janie's always thought of me as her own. Since I met her, she's had a big influence on my life since she's the only woman in it.

  "Eh. Junior catch a ride?" I ask, her raising my voice over the hum of my car.

  "He jumped on the bus. I told him to give you a break today," she says, giving me a knowing smile and a slight wink.

  "Thanks, Janie. See you later!" I start rolling up the window.

  "Have a good day!" She adds, waving with the morning paper in her hand. I love this woman as if she was my own mother. At times, she is.

  School is only about an eight-minute drive, depending on traffic. Today is a perfect day, so there aren't many cars around. I hit almost every single light, though, making me frustrated—so much for being invisible today. I can't hide when I'm running into class late, causing a scene.

  I curse myself for running late. Then I curse the lights. Stupid traffic lights are messing with me today. I bang my hands on the steering wheel and the light actually changes. Wow, that's lucky. I was about to break my steering wheel in half if that thing had stayed red another second.