1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

Home > Other > 1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020 > Page 40
1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020 Page 40

by Fiona Archer


  I dropped my hand from the door, my breath catching in my throat as it slowly shut behind me. “My, Professor, what big eyes you have.”

  His dark gaze flickered away from the computer, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

  The lips of Brad Wolf.

  “The better to see you with.”

  I rolled my eyes, letting out a low huff. “Seriously? Has it been you this entire time?”

  His large hands grasped the desk as he slowly stood, his full height looming over me.

  A gasp caught in my throat, but I tamped it down, biting hard on my bottom lip.

  “Would you be surprised to know I was the one pushing you? The one who helped give you that A paper instead of a half-assed written C plus.”

  “An A?” I squeaked, some of the tension releasing in my shoulders.

  He slid around the desk, and just like that, my once chilled body was heating up, a warmth spreading from my toes up to…well…things that shouldn’t have been roused in the middle of my professor’s office.

  “You deserve it, Wren. I just wish you could have been real in the beginning.”

  I put my hands on my hips, trying to ignore the trembling as he inched closer. “I could say the same about you being real. You didn’t need to hide behind the professor’s email.”

  “Would you have listened to me if I didn’t?” He cocked an eyebrow, and there was something about the little tick in his jaw that had me swallowing hard in response.

  He took another step closer, so the tip of his shoes hit mine. “You like to be pushed, Wren.”

  “I…I…” My words caught just on my tongue. The one that was now impossibly numb.

  “What about being pulled? Do you like that, too?” His hands gripped on to my waist, the rough pads of his thumbs sliding against the skin where my shirt didn’t meet my jeans.

  I looked down, trying to keep the blush from my cheeks as I stared at the material of his sweater. “My…what big hands you have.”

  “The better to embrace you with,” he growled before his lips crushed against mine.

  All the air whooshed from my lungs then back in.

  Our lips and tongues met as if we’d been starving for this moment and couldn’t get enough.

  I was in a haze. A lustful one that rejected all reason when his hands slunk up the back of my shirt, pulling my hood down so he could fist my hair in his strong hands.

  I moaned into that delicious mouth of his, my nipples instinctively pebbling against chest.

  His groin pushed against the zipper of his jeans and strained so close to my own wanting heat.

  “Where’s the professor?” I managed to breathe between kisses as his lips trailed down my neck.

  “He never makes office hours.”

  “Good,” I breathed, freeing Brad’s cock, stroking the hard length in my hands.

  “You do like to be pushed, don’t you, Little Wren Rider?” he murmured against my skin.

  Gripping my ass, he launched me onto the desk. My jeans and panties quickly dropped to the floor before his palms rested against my side.

  The only thing I could see in the dim light was his dark brown eyes as he sank into me.

  My body hummed, rocking against his as little vibrations of pleasure jolted me to him.

  Our tongues met again as I gripped on to him, clutching something I didn’t know I needed. Not until fireworks exploded through me and I came around him, biting his shoulder hard so I wouldn’t moan too loud.

  He followed not long after, his body shuddering against mine and letting out a second release that had me crying out.

  I held on to him. Not wanting to let go. Wanting to pretend like this moment would never end.

  But a jiggling of the door handle alerted both of us that wasn’t going to happen.

  Quickly we both got our pants on, my hands still shaking as the door opened, illuminating the small form of the professor and the stale alcohol stench that wafted off of him.

  “Brad, didn’t know you were in here. And you have a guest?”

  Shit.

  My shoulders tensed.

  There definitely had to be a rule book against this, and even though I’d called him out in my paper, we could both be in deep shit for getting caught having sex on the professor’s desk.

  “A student. She just turned in her final paper and I think it’s A work. I look forward to you reading it.”

  The professor nodded, his hand still on the door. “Well then she isn’t a student anymore if her paper has been turned in graded, is she?”

  I blinked hard, watching as Brad’s shoulders stiffened. “No, I guess she isn’t.”

  A small smile crossed the professor’s face. “Carry on then. I’ll see you next office hours, but I recommend maybe next time you meet former students, have it be in your own office.”

  With that, the professor closed the door and left us in a thick silence.

  Brad slowly turned toward me, letting out a breath close to my lips. “So, want to grab coffee?”

  Blinking hard, I fumbled with the hood of my sweater so I’d have something to do with my shaking hands. “I thought you didn’t do relationships?”

  He laughed, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers. “I don’t. I do real. And you’re the real thing, Wren.”

  I leaned on my tippy toes, looking into the eyes of the guy I’d once thought of as the big bad wolf. “Coffee sounds great.”

  And off we went out of the wooden door and onto campus. No longer scared of the consequences or worrying about papers. Just free to be real.

  Copyright 2020 Magan Vernon

  About Magan Vernon

  Thank you for reading REAL. I hope you enjoyed reading about them as much as I loved writing them.

  Want more Magan Vernon stories with college characters? Check out Edge of Glory (FREE on all e platforms) https://amzn.to/3ptV73g

  Maybe you’re into the forbidden boss/ employee relationship? Check out the Murphy Brothers series https://amzn.to/3eZCP52

  If you want a good escape and laugh, check out the Heart Duet about a former teen heartthrob turned single dad. https://amzn.to/2IHjVE8

  * * * *

  Magan Vernon has been living off of reader tears since she wrote her first short story in 2004. She now spends her time killing off fictional characters, pretending to plot while she really just watches Netflix, and she tries to do this all while her two young children run amok around her Texas ranch. Find her online at www.maganvernon.com

  Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaganVernon

  Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormaganvernon/

  Author Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/FeelTheVern/

  Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maganvee/?hl=en

  Author Newsletter: http://www.subscribepage.com/MaganVernon

  Author BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/magan-vernon

  Author Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authormagan/

  The Crown of Wings and Thorns

  by

  Mary Ting

  Chapter One

  The Prison

  “Wake up!”

  The deep male voice in my dream rattled me out of delirium, and I gasped for air. My head pounded like a beating drum, and I held in the urge to vomit.

  The stench around me was so raw and pungent I may have already puked my guts out. When the dry heaves stopped, I blinked until the torch lights hung by the metal bars of my prison came into focus.

  Pain surged up my chest and something warm trickled down my side. As I reached to investigate, the heavy weight of clanking shackles stopped me short.

  Damn these chains.

  With a trembling hand, I dabbed at the wetness to gauge the depth of the gash under my ribcage. Thick, golden blood oozed down my fingers. The wound was deeper than I’d thought.

  Even though the lesion had begun to heal, as long as the restraints bound my wrists and ankles, I would never recover or have my
full strength. My muscles slacked, and my hand thumped to the floor.

  I tuned my angel senses to listen for any clue about my whereabouts, but the absolute silence gave me no comfort or hope.

  Don’t give up. Friends are coming.

  As a soft breeze stroked my face, the sound of a slap upon flesh pierced the silence. It had come from beyond the pitted brick walls.

  “No, please. I’ll give you coins. Please don’t touch me.”

  The captive was probably an angel, or a low-class demon, or simply a human who had stolen food and stupidly got caught. Either way, he would be raped and killed. And there was not a damn thing I could do to help him.

  Heavy footsteps echoed outside my cell. My feathers ruffled involuntarily in warning. They would execute me in a public display. There would be no trial. Angels had no rights in the human world. Never would I have imagined this revelation. EVER.

  I rolled onto my side, pushed unsteadily to my feet, and unfurled my wings to stretch. I inhaled a sharp breath and positioned my feet apart, holding the chains like a weapon.

  No way would these mortal men see me on the ground as if I were a pig groveling. It felt so good to loosen my muscles, but I stopped short when pain radiated from my side and spiraled up my torso.

  When I bent over, panting, I spotted crimson splattered on my alabaster feathers—human blood, along with black for demons. How many had I killed?

  Five men stopped in front of my cell wearing the smug grins of hunters who had just cornered their prey. Then a tall, baldheaded one jerked open the metal door.

  I remembered that guard. He had dragged me in here after someone dosed me with a sleeping potion. He was a fool for showing himself. I’d kill him first.

  The four other men positioned themselves around me with swords raised, but they kept their distance. Their hearts raced and they smelled of fear. As they should.

  “Ready to die?” The bald guard scowled, the point of his spear so close I could touch it.

  “Not by your hands, human. I’ll rip out your heart if you take another step.” I wasn’t in a position to taunt them, but I was never the docile type.

  The guard growled and thrust his spear. I deflected it by raising the metal cuff around my wrist to block it. I didn’t have my strength, but I could still use my wits, a weapon this human lacked.

  I pinned him with a warning stare, my voice dipping lower. “Careful now. Or better yet, come closer. You want my blood, don’t you? To sell it behind your emperor’s back? Think of everything you could do with all those coins.”

  His eyes grew wider, and he licked his bottom lip. Then his features scrunched, and he spat on the cell floor.

  “Don’t get excited thinking you’re going to trick me. I won’t need your blood. We’re draining Micka and your friends as we speak. When the sun sets, you’ll all be dead.”

  Micka. Tank. Otis. Dawn. Snow. They were captured too? No! How? I’d thought I was the only one.

  The Demons of Underground had found our home. During the attack, we had followed our escape route, but I was captured when a part of the wall collapsed and separated me from the rest of my team. They must have been bombarded when they exited the building. But all of them? Impossible.

  “You’re lying.” I swiped at them with wide, clumsy blows, the chains slapping the dirt.

  One guard slipped behind me, and I smacked him with a flap of my half-opened wing. That cost me. Pain rippled through my arm, and my gash tore further open. But the man flew across the space and cracked his spine against the metal bars. One man down.

  The anchors bolted to the wall held me firmly as I continued to strain against them. Rage drove me. I didn’t care if my skin burned and tore from the bindings. I didn’t care if I broke my arm. The physical pain was nothing to the agony in my soul. I needed to rip off their heads, and I refused to believe Micka and my friends were captured.

  I should have killed Asmodeus, the head of the Order of Demons, when I had the chance. He’d come to me, asked to unite the Order of Angels and Order of Demons to fight against the humans. We were supposed to open our home to them as a sign of good faith. They betrayed us.

  I’d thought the Order of Demons was different then the Demons of Underground, but it seemed demons were all the same—corrupt and deceitful.

  I should have known better. History does repeat itself.

  “Shoot her. Now,” the guard ordered.

  Something pricked the side of my neck. Damn, I should have seen that coming. I would have if I had focused instead of acting on my temper and the emptiness where my heart once thrived. If my friends had been captured, all hope was lost. My team and I were doomed.

  The walls spun, and the five men doubled to ten. My body drifted on a breeze, light as a whisper in a meadow full of vibrant flowers.

  “Grab her. It’s time.”

  Hands tightened around me, the iron restraints clattered on the ground. They had released me, but I could do nothing to escape. I didn’t care though. Soon, I would join my friends in the afterlife.

  Chapter Two

  Execution

  “Blood! Blood! Blood!” the crowd chanted, filling the stadium with their thunderous voices.

  The emperor rose from his throne on a raised platform. The twisting strands of his golden crown resembled a crown made of thorns. Thorns reminded me of the human race—sin, sorrow, and hardship.

  When he raised a hand, his elegant wool robe billowed in a gust of wind. “Citizens, calm yourselves. Before blood is shed, we must determine if the prisoners are innocent or guilty.”

  Levia, one of the demon commanders sitting below the emperor’s throne, leaned back and crossed her legs. “Why bother? Give your people what they want. Are we not here to see a show?”

  The emperor’s lips tightened, his dagger-sharp stare on Levia. He parted his mouth to speak, but someone beat him to it.

  “Guilty!” a man hollered.

  “Cut off their wings!” a woman spat in the front.

  No, not the wings.

  I was shorter than most angels, but not weaker. We had a high tolerance to virus, pain, and pretty much everything else except damage to our wings. Each feather was like a human’s veins. And the size of the wings determined your status. An angel without wings might as well be human.

  I’m a Seraphim, the highest order in the Hierarchy of Angels, and so is Micka. But the others in my team are Cherubim, the second highest, or Thrones, the third.

  Over the millennia, the Watchers, angel soldiers, were sent to Earth to live among the humans to guide them. Recently humans refused to live under our rules, and with influence from demons, they rebelled against the Watchers. Chaos reigned. An Order of Angels was sent down.

  The elimination of the rebels reestablishing order should have been swift, but we had been absent from Earth so long. We were not prepared for their cunning and their weapons. It seemed they had been preparing for our arrival.

  The sleeping potion the guard had injected me with was wearing off. Though the voices sounded muffled and my vision was still unfocused, I knew what was happening.

  I pulled at the chains on my ankles to calculate the odds of breaking them loose, but my arms bound in front might be a bigger problem. The two Watchers on either side of me, beaten and broken-spirited, had bruises on their faces and blood dripping from their sides. Even if I were to free them, they might not have any fight left in them.

  To make matters worse, demon soldiers and Watchers who had aligned with our adversary kept watch on the outskirts of the stadium. Were they anticipating my rescue? Had the news spread to the Order of Angels that I had been captured? I doubted the news would have traveled to them that quickly, especially when they weren’t aware of the meeting that had gone askew.

  “What do you say, citizens?” the emperor asked.

  Levia must have some influence over the emperor for him to side with her proposal.

  Damn her to hell.

  “Cut off the wings!”

>   “Burn them!”

  “No,” the watcher to my left said weakly. “You’re Evangeline, aren’t you?”

  One of his wings drooped awkwardly halfway. I cursed at the person who had done that to him.

  “Yes. What’s your name?” My voice came out barely a whisper.

  “My name is Dante. Can’t you help us?”

  Yes, I wanted to say. But the damn cuffs prevented me, and I felt ashamed. No matter, I had to try. If my team had been captured, then I had to fight for them too. I’d rather die fighting then go down giving up.

  The emperor waved a hand at the baldheaded guard, a gesture to kill.

  I yanked at my shackles. This time, they loosened. “Let them go. You have me. Their blood is not as potent as mine.”

  When a group of men first killed an angel, with help from demons, they realized the angel blood cured disease and even extended a mortal’s life. That was when the hunt for angels began.

  Levia left the spectator stand and strutted to the podium like she owned the stage. She yanked my golden hair back and pressed a sword to my throat. “After we drain your blood, I’m going to bathe in it and drink up your power, but meanwhile I want you to hear your subjects cry while you remain helpless.”

  I snarled. “Don’t touch them.”

  She let out a fake cackle. Such a horrendous sound. “So feisty, this one. Remember I locked you up, girl. Remember it was I who slayed Micka and your pathetic unit.” Then she turned to the audience. “Remember this day, my people. Humans and demons have come together to kill a top-ranking angel. Look at her. She is weak with the bindings the Demons of Underground provided you. The Order of Angels is not God. They can be defeated.”

  Levia swung her sword down at Dante’s broken wing. It thumped to the ground like dead weight. His scream was drowned out by the mass cheering.

  My heart lurched up to my throat. I had to do something. Anything. But these damn chains. I refused to believe it was my demise.

 

‹ Prev