CHAPTER ONE
Jenn
The crack of my heel snapping on the concrete stair sent a jolt of dread down my spine. My body turned into one clenched muscle as time slowed, and I fell to the pavement. I saw the pain coming and tried to twist myself so I’d fall on my side, not straight on my hands.
The sound of a bone snapping in my wrist registered before the pain. I continued to tumble down the never-ending row of stairs, growing angrier with every bounce and jolt of pain. My life had been a joke from the moment I’d left home, and the thought of dying by falling down was infuriating.
My hip bounced off the edge of a stair, launching me further into the air.No! This is not how I go out. I don’t accept it.With that thought, I watched the unyielding ground coming toward my face, and I’d had enough.
Throwing my hands in front of me, I screamed. All of the anger and frustration of my life poured out of me in a screech that I was sure had everyone within a mile radius looking my way.
I froze in mid air, shaking. My yell dwindled to a gasp as I pulled my head up to look around me. The courthouse stairway had been bustling when I began my tumble, and all the people that had previously scurried about, worrying about their everyday problems froze, turned toward me, staring. I assumed they were looking at me, I couldn’t see much without my contacts.
A jerk on my spine explained why they stared. I tried to turn my head and found myself face to face with an enormous purple wing, slowly beating up and down. Whipping my head around showed me the twin on the other side.Who is standing behind me, holding wings up?
My mind might’ve been a teeny bit fuzzy. I moved my legs to turn myself completely around, but jerked my gaze downward when I felt nothing under my feet. I was floating a good two feet off the ground.
Breathing hard, I did a double take when I saw my hands. My mind couldn’t compute what it was looking at.
My skin was purple. Purple and black.It’s a bruise from falling. A crazy, huge, scaly bruise.
“It’s a bruise,” I whispered. It was easy to believe since I couldn't see clearly anyway.
The crowd in front of me laughed and pointed. Some of the people clapped. I smiled in relief. It was a stunt. Some crowd magician or performer had caught me mid-fall and managed to make it look like a big stunt. “Tada,” I said, voice shaky.I must be in shock. I don’t feel any pain from my fall.
I peered over my shoulder, but couldn’t see past the big, fake wings. Squinting, I looked closely. They were incredibly realistic. Veins pulsed in the membrane between the bones, and the scales covering them shimmered in the sunlight. I squinted harder to try to see the details without my contacts in.
“That’s enough,” a voice behind me hissed in an accent I couldn’t quite place. Maybe British. “They think it’s a show. Come down from there and get lost.”
“Whoever you are, I can’t see you. Thanks for stopping my fall, but can you get me down now?” I craned my neck to see who was talking to me and why they weren’t putting me down. The wings kept flapping, and I realized I’d risen another foot. “This is starting to freak me out, and I think I’m probably injured and in shock.”
“It’s not funny. If you don’t stop this now I’m going to notify the Junta!” The voice still whispered, but he’d begun to sound irritated. “What are you, anyway?”
“What are you talking about?” My own voice rose in pitch as his words registered. He thought I’d done the stunt myself. Where was the person responsible? “If you didn’t do this to me, someone else did. Can you please help me down?”
The owner of the voice walked around me, glaring. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “You’re going to expose us if you don’t stop.” His accent wasn’t British. Maybe Irish. I’d never been able to travel as I’d once hoped to, and his accent was so refined I couldn’t put a finger on it.
More people gathered around. He looked at the crowd and smiled. His features were indistinct, but I saw a flash of teeth, and I could tell his hair was dark blond. Or maybe light brown. “Thank you for coming, everyone.” He produced a velvet bag from inside his coat pocket, stuck his hand inside and transferred whatever object he’d kept in the bag to his pocket. It looked like a magic wand, but I couldn’t tell with my contacts out. Probably a prop for the show.
“Please, if you enjoy the illusion, leave the beautiful lady a tip.” He flourished the bag and a good dozen people strode forward, dropping bills and change.
Mutters from the crowd astounded me. “So realistic,” one lady said.
A man took my bruise covered hand and gave it a soft kiss. “Perfection,” he murmured against my knuckles.
My jaw dropped.
The man who’d collected the tips stuffed the bag back in his coat pocket and grabbed my hand once the last person moved on and people stopped being impressed. He tugged, and my body responded. I lowered to the ground with a jolt. With one hand on my shoulder, he turned toward the big wings behind me. Placing one hand on my arm, he grabbed the edge of the wing and pulled it toward my body. It crumpled, but that wasn’t the part that made me moan.
Ifelthis touch on the wing. His hand on the wing was as real and warm as his other hand on my arm. I shook my head, my long black hair coming loose from the clip. I had a fleeting thought of surprise that it had stayed put during the fall.
Watching the wing fold toward me was almost like an out of body experience. How was I feeling the muscles bend and the sides of the wing touch each other as they crumpled?
My stomach filled with acid. I looked in the other direction and watched—and felt—as the same happened on that side. “How?” I asked the strange—pretty sure he was hot—man helping me.
Once they were contained behind my back, he circled to my front. I looked up and back to see the massive wings rising over my head. When I rolled my shoulders, the wings moved accordingly. It felt like someone had their fists pressed into my shoulder blades.
A finger on my chin forced my gaze downward, and I squinted to get a real look at the person helping me. He was the definition of lithe, and his body seeped sex appeal. His suit had to have been tailored for him, the fit was too perfect. His light brown—dark blond?— hair was shaggy enough to be sexy, but not so long he needed a haircut.
