Page 55 of Glass Wings
Arryn shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to move towards his best friend and protectively throw his arms around her.
“Now a child is to be born, the first true biological immortal. How can that be when a Kinnari woman does not bleed?”
Reign shook her head back and forth and shrugged her shoulders. Arryn couldn’t see her face, but the goddess still had an excellent point. Arryn wondered why he had never questioned it once, despite the many years of constant failure.
“This child was blessed, given permission for life from your gods, and this resulted directly from your defiance of our rules. The child may be birthed as it is bound to new timelines, but you, Life Gifter child, will not be pardoned.”
With those words, Arryn jumped into the air, his wings carrying him before falling in front of Reign, acting as her shield. Djoser let loose, the darkness of his magic obscuring the sight of everyone around him.
Arryn heard Roksana scream in the distance as blue flames erupted like blinding fireworks in the midnight sky.
“Do not protect me,” Reign’s voice commanded him.
Arryn’s body went limp as he fell back, landing on the palms of his hands in a crab-like position while his wings drooped into melted puddles of snow. Cold and directionless, Arryn considered leaving this parade of power and sneaking away through the portal door and into Allienna’s warm arms.
It seemed Reign had a similar thought as a gust hit Arryn in the face. Reign was airborne and fleeing. They were all here to fight for her when she was only planning on saving herself.
The mountain peak then erupted into fire. Arryn could see the blue flames dancing on his skin, though they felt nothing despite existing in a state of full-body incineration. He saw Roksana’s wings covering Precession, attempting to protect her while they both burned slowly.
A powerful shockwave hit the peak as a battle between light and sound thundered. Arryn screamed at the sky, the atoms releasingfrom his wounds and circling a powerful wind around their group. Standing in the middle of a supercell thunderstorm of his own creation, with boiled and seared skin from head to toe, Arryn looked up only to set his eyes on the Life Gifter.
17
Hadley | Sacramento, California | Early 2000s
The soft fabricof the large sixteen-person sofa felt like cool velvet against Hadley’s skin. What once was a room filled with burlesque performers and tables of food was now a lush paradise for relaxation. Hadley let her body sink into the extra deep cushions. She giggled because when she sat back, her feet barely hung off the edge. She felt so small, so innocent, before reminding herself of the reason that she was there.
While looking around the room, the only familiar item was the grand staircase, and she wondered if it might look like a normal house on the upper level now, or if it was still a romanticized version of an elevated adult dungeon.
Sheng entered the room and held the pack of playing cards he had promised to retrieve.
Let the games begin.
“Ready to play?” he asked, sitting a few seats away from her,arching over the glass coffee table. He opened the card pack and let the deck slide out smoothly into his hands before bending them into a shuffle, ending the action with the sound of a final card slapping against the rest of the deck.
“So, Sheng, what is it that you do?” Hadley asked as Sheng focused on dealing out both of their hands. Hadley counted as five cards were placed before her face down, the backs reflecting blue and black patterns.
“As for my career?” Sheng asked.
Hadley answered with a simple nod, her chin now resting on her hand.
“I’m a momma’s boy, so ultimately I just do her bidding. My family has a long history of shipping goods from China. I’ve taken over the operation and, unfortunately, have to travel often.”
Hadley picked up her cards, not knowing anything about the shipping trade but relieved to hear that the little she had already known about him was confirmed to be true.
“It’s very dull, with lots of board meetings and answering financial concerns of investors,” he added.
“I’ll raise you a piece of clothing.” She leaned back and batted her eyelashes. “How about a . . . flip-flop. From my left foot?”
Sheng’s eyes turned positively mischievous. “Now, how does a flip-flop count as a piece of clothing? Looking at my hand, I think I’d like to raise the ante. Let’s make it a shirt.”
“You are already not wearing a shirt,” Hadley cocked her head, her gaze unwavering.
“Should I put one on for the game?”
“No,” she snapped back, her eyes trailing down to the area between his navel and the button on his jeans. “I mean, there’s no need. I think I’ve already won this hand.”
She laid out her cards, a flush with low-numbered clubs.
