Wings | Of Seduction

He should have called security. Should have looked away. Instead, he set down his glass and walked to the edge of his own balcony, the rain slicking his hair to his forehead.

She stood on the ledge of the building opposite, a silhouette against the holographic advertisements that flickered like artificial auroras. Her dress was a spill of liquid silver, and her hair moved in a wind that he could not feel. But it was her wings that stopped his heart—not feathered, not angelic, but woven from living shadow and fractured light, like shards of a broken galaxy held in bone and sinew. Wings Of Seduction

The sound of his name on her tongue was a velvet blade. He should have called security

Kaelen should have asked what the price was. Should have demanded terms, guarantees, a contract signed in blood and legalese. She stood on the ledge of the building