Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) (30 page)
Read Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) Online
Authors: A.J. Norris
EIGHTY-THREE
Amalya
Amalya returned to Eternity
to inform Max of her choice to become a Redeemer angel. He laughed and told her he already knew and she was predictable. “Well, duh,” he’d said. She’d wanted to slap him. He’d also told her to stay at Elliott’s apartment and when a task was assigned to her, she’d get a visit.
Her black wings would remain black. Good. She preferred the color. It matched her hair. Before she left the club, Max showed her a few more tricks now that she was a full angel. Because flying,
poofing,
and mind altering weren’t enough. She could manifest weapons, and more importantly…clothing. Anything she could imagine within reason, the limits of which she’d yet to completely discover. She loved being an angel. Apart from the crushing loneliness without the one thing she wanted the most.
After her meeting with her guru, Max, she went home to an empty apartment. The solitude helped calm her mind and also got on her nerves. She lay awake on the couch, listening to the sounds of her own breathing, which irritated her. The cadence of her heartbeats. Annoying. Angels could hear remarkably well. Max explained in time she’d be able to tune out certain frequencies.
Amalya closed her eyes and in the place between asleep and awake, her dog-like hearing picked up two people walking down the hall beyond the apartment door. They sounded more like giants marching in Frankenstein boots. She could hear their conversation as if they were standing in the room with her.
“What is this beneath my feet? Is it a rug?” The man’s voice sounded familiar.
There was a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
Huh? Is that…
“You’re kidding me right? Filthy. Why don’t they just lay dirt on the floor? It would look nicer.” She heard a pause then a sniff. “And smell better too.”
Virgil?
“Keep it up.”
Elliott?
“Or what?”
“Just…keep it up.”
The footsteps stopped outside her apartment. She flung the door open. “Elliott!” she yelled, leaping into his arms. His hands caught her under the butt. He had wings.
Yay!
No more feeling guilty for having something he wanted so badly. She landed kisses all over his face. A hand went to the back of her head, urging her to him kiss on the lips.
“You’re…not…stupid,” he said between smooches.
“You are the smartest person I know.”
Virgil mouthed,
what?
“I’m sorry but…do you
know
Elliott? Because he’s not that smart,” the other angel said without an ounce of sarcasm.
“Keep it up, Virge.” Elliott kissed her again, lingering on her lower lip. If he kept this kind of passion going, they’d wind up doing it right out in the hallway, against the wall.
“Angels do not possess an intellectual advantage over humans. And furthermore…”
“Is he always like this?” she asked. Clearly, Virgil didn’t care no one was listening.
“You have no idea.” Her angel smirked.
“He has a bag.”
Elliott sighed and spoke without moving his lips. “I know. He’s moving in.”
“How nice. Hope you two enjoy living together.” She plastered a fake smile on her face. He kissed her neck then rested his forehead on her shoulder.
“It won’t be enjoyable, believe—” His head popped up. “Wait, what?”
She giggled. “Just kidding.”
Elliott carried her straight back to the only bedroom. And good thing too, no way would she sleep on that rock called a couch. She snorted at herself. There would be no sleeping tonight.
Laid out on the bed, nestled on her gossamer wings, Elliott hovered over her. His hair tickled her bare skin. Their eyes locked. Everything felt right.
“I love you,” she said, then closed her eyes and held her breath.
He chuckled and eased down on top of her. The blood drained out of her head.
I put my heart on the line, and, and…
“What, I already told you’re not stupid, what more do you want?” His smile made it impossible for her to hate him at this moment. But she totally wanted to kick him.
When he dipped low to kiss her, she turned her head away. “Nope.”
“Oh, all right. I love you,” he said with a sheepish grin.
Squeezing her thighs together, she denied him access to the sweetest part of her. “Sure about that?”
“Positive. I feel like I’ve waited my whole existence for you.”
“Really? How long we talking?”
“A
long
time. Now can we—”
“Come on, how long? How old are you?” she asked, opening her legs. He got comfortable between them.
“I was created before the Earth. Now, I’d really like to make—”
“Well that doesn’t answer my question.”
Elliott chuckled. “Sorry. That’s the best I can do. Can we have sex now?”
“I don’t understand, why is that the best you can do?”
“Arghhh! You’re killing me.”
“All right, we’ll discuss this later.”
Elliott pushed into her, the first stroke always smooth as silk. They made love for hours and right before they fell asleep in each other’s arms, she told him how she learned she’d always have to battle her inner demons. Taint lived all around them. There was no escaping its reach. Negative emotions were everywhere, but what one chose to do with those feelings was up to the individual. She wasn’t going to let her past dictate her future.
Amalya was born to be an angel. She loved her black wings.
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Acknowledgments
With deepest gratitude, I would like to acknowledge all those that helped make this book a reality, in particular my family; Sarah LoCascio, Phil S., and the rest of Oakland Fiction Writers; Tim Patrick and Writer’s Rendezvous; all the wonderful members of GDRWA; and my fabulous editor, Felicia A. Sullivan. All of your encouragement and support means the world to me.
About the Author
A.J. Norris is a lover of all books but her loyalty remains with her first crush; romance. She graduated from a mid-western college with a degree in absolutely nothing to do with writing whatsoever. It wasn’t until well after college when the build-up of voices inside her head became too overwhelming and needed to be let out, that she began to write. She isn’t following a family legacy of writers, only a need to put words on a piece of paper.
A.J. is a movie buff, especially book adaptations, loves watching her son play baseball and communing with other writers. She lives with her family who are extremely tolerant (at least most of the time) of all her late nights behind the computer, clack clacking away.