He Brushed My Curls Back Off My

He Brushed My Curls Back Off My Face. “i Never Pictured My Life So Complete. I Never Thought I’d Have Everything I Want. You’re Everything To Me, Angel.

Hang On, Did You Just Call Me Angel?" I Asked. "if I Did?" "i Don't Like It." He Grinned. "it Stays, Angel.

Is That A Yes?" He Asked, Pushing His Fingers Through My Hair, Fanning It Out Around My Shoulders And Searching My Face Intently. "please Let It Be Yes," He Said With A Gravelly Edge. "stay With Me Tonight. Let Me Hold You, Even If That's All It Is. Let Me Keep You Safe.

You Belong To The Biblical Race Of Nephilim. Your Real Father Was An Angel Who Fell From Heaven. You're Half Mortal." The Boy's Dark Eyes Lifted, Meeting Chauncey's. "half Fallen Angel." Chauncey's Tutor's Voice Drifted Up From The Recesses Of His Mind, Reading Passages From The Bible, Telling Of A Deviant Race Created When Angels Cast From Heaven Mated With Mortal Women. A Fearsome And Powerful Race. A Chill That Wasn't Entirely Revulsion Crept Through Chauncey. "who Are You?

They Said The Moment I Fell In Love With You Was The Moment You'd Leave.