Gilded Feathers

By J. Woods

An alluring choice. A fantastical revelation. But what if it changed... everything?

Familiar with the art of the nightmare, twenty-two year old university student Cole Evans can’t help but feel a deep connection to the horrifying illusions of her slumber.
Irrevocably drawn to obscure fantasy, Cole faces a defiant temptation of romance and her first encounter with the mysterious Drex. Covered in tattoos, she unexpectedly finds herself attracted to his dark magnetism and emerald eyes. Before her life takes an impossible turn.
Uncovering Drex’s true Guardian identity, she is forced on a terrifying journey through the stars into his world - one that brilliantly weaves together the struggle of danger and desire. And the impossible reality of gilded feathers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Woods
• Release date: Oct 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311944085

J. Woods

J. Woods is a Toronto based writer, mother, and non-conformist. She lives between the space of her green tea and humming laptop when she isn’t chasing after her free spirited daughter. She has studied too many things to count including radio broadcasting and entrepreneurship. Grasping at sanity, she realized writing stories about her insane thoughts was easier than explaining them to a doctor. Not to mention cheaper.

Book preview

GILDED FEATHERS

BOOK I

J. Woods

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Copyright

Dedication & Acknowledgements

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTERTHREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Gilded Faith

About the Author

COPYRIGHT

Gilded Feathers

J. Woods

Copyright 2013 J. Woods

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events and incidents either are product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Discover other titles by J. Woods at Smashwords.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To those courageous enough to listen to the whispers on the wings of gilded feathers...

I want to thank everyone who helped in the creation of this book,

And to those guys from my online dating phase - without you I wouldn’t be forced to obsess over fictional characters.

CHAPTER ONE

I found cover under an old bridge once the sun started setting. The various shades of orange filled the evening sky, one of the most beautiful picturesque sunsets I had ever seen. Beyond the bridge laid a field of lifeless grass. I braced myself for a cold, chilled to the bone, long night ahead of me. The large, grey and brown stone at the base of the bridge did nothing to help the atmosphere, but it did put shelter over my head and broke the wind from slapping its ice cold hand across my face. I huddled down on the ground close to the largest of the bricks holding up the overly large overpass. I pulled my hands in my sleeves and tucked my neck down as far as I could in my black winter jacket - a jacket I had stolen from an old rusted bin of a lost and found; I tried to coil myself into the tightest ball my body would allow. I laid my contorted self down on the cold, hard dirt. I stared at the ancient brick of the bridge, focusing my energy on one in particular – it was the largest of the mismatched group with a jagged crack running down its left side. I centered my attention on a red marker scripture reading J plus M forever surrounded by a heart. I closed my eyes, praying for sleep.

I rolled over and opened my eyes, still to find darkness, not a hint of daylight yet. It turned out to be a fairly clear night; the black sky filled with bright balls of gas millions of miles away. I turned onto my side in the brisk night air; the clothes I had on did little in way of maintaining the barely there heat of my body. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching the white fog dissipate in front of me. I tried thinking of a warm sunny day, doing my best to stop my teeth from chattering. No matter how hard I thought of palm trees, the tiny snowflakes didn’t stop falling on my chilled face. I suddenly caught my breath, attempting to stop my chattering teeth. I heard some noise approaching, the cold hard ground crunching, becoming noticeably louder as it drew nearer. I closed my eyes in a silent prayer for it to be some sort of animal instead of another person vying for my semi-sheltered habitat. It felt like hours had passed when it was probably only a couple of minutes. I slowly let out my breath as I was starting to get light-headed; it didn’t help I hadn’t eaten since the bagel I scrounged up yesterday morning. Unexpectedly, the sound stopped. It was eerily quiet and all I could do was wait; refusing to move in case whatever was making that noise caught sight of me. My heart jumped when the noise picked up again, more quickly this time and I knew, whatever it was, was heading straight for me. I held my breath again and stayed as still as my body would allow me. Before I could bat my lashes, I was being hurled three feet in the air by a pair of large dirty hands like I was a rag doll in the way. A gruff voice with a very threatening edge warned me I was in his spot.

My voice left my mouth before my mind could stop it and blurted out, I didn’t see your name on it. Shit, why did I just say that? I knew I was going to have a more difficult night than expected – my mother always warned me about my smart mouth.

What? replied the voice.

I looked up to meet my maker - a bulky man, who had clearly been through his share of run-ins and no stranger to cold ground. He was at least six foot three with dark skin, although I could see he was covered in a layer of dirt, and hard dark eyes. He had lost all compassion and was used to only looking out for one – himself. I lifted my head to his reaction and met his eyes for a quick moment until I decided I would be better off keeping my gaze downward. He sauntered over to me, taking his sweet time and grabbed my head whipping my hood off so he could clearly see who dared disrespect him. He stopped; stunned for a quick second upon realization I was a female before he promptly morphed back into his hard, bitter persona. I got a better look at his face now that I was forced to look at him. I believe he would have been an attractive man at one point, with a chiseled nose and hard jaw. I could tell he was very muscular even through his worn, hand me down clothing. He had dark greasy, uncombed hair, matching his eyes. He had obviously fallen on hard times some time ago and never looked back. I saw what looked like a gang tattoo on his neck but couldn’t make out what it depicted. The fact I had breasts did not stop this man’s plan of assault. He and I both knew I was in for it and I would be left bloody and bruised in the very least.

Smart mouth for a not so smart little girl, he said in his threatening tone. You know what I do to little girls with a smart mouth? I shook my head because my mouth was suddenly dry with no words to speak. What’s the matter little girl? Nothing to say now? He continued his verbal assault while undoubtedly deciding how he was going to punish my smart mouth. He was pacing now while still keeping a firm hand on my head and looking me in my eye. I was scared and cold and tired, the two latter winning the war.

I opened my smart mouth, finally finding my words, Just get it over with already, sounding more brave than I intended.

A small smirk replaced the hard line of his mouth and with a husky, determined reply of, My pleasure. I felt the first blow to my ribs. I doubled over sputtering. I knew it was coming but it still took me by surprise. I repeated a mantra in my head; I’ve been through this before and survived. Stay strong. Me and my smart mouth, lord. The next came and was more anticipated, this time a hard hand across my face. The cold made the sting of the hurt sharper than it should, leaving behind a warming burn; my eye immediately started to swell. I looked up at my assailant; the look on his face was pure joy as the evil stormed in his eyes. The next blow came, and hit me straight across the other side of my face.

It wouldn’t be nice to leave one side untouched sweetheart, now that wouldn’t be fair would it. I spat at his feet, blood and the white, hard remnants of a tooth spat out of my mouth and landed at his feet, some splattering on his dirty old work boots that he stole from some helpless man as they looked to be two sizes too big. Now that wasn’t nice. Lick it off. In a voice that was filled with nothing but cold and hatred, a chill ran down my spine and not because it was minus five out. If I didn’t do what he told me to, I knew I might not survive the night. I slowly found my hands and placed them firm on the ground to gain my bearings and pushed myself up to a crawling position. I slowly made my way toward his blood stained boot. Two steps on my hands and knees; I unhurriedly bent my head down, waiting for the impact of the steel toe to my chin. Squeezing my eyes as tight as I could, I braced myself for the blow. Pretty girl, he said in a softer demeaning, I’m going to fuck you up tonight. I felt the back kick of the wind as he reared his leg backward, ready for attack. I heard a surprised grumble from my attacker. I looked up in wonderment at what was happening to find I was astonishingly alone. From farther away I heard a struggle and for the second time in the evening, me and my smart mouth had nothing to say. I sat in stunned silence, my mind racing as to what was actually happening. I fell to the ground from my hands and knees and waited for my fate. It wasn’t long before I heard the familiar sound of the ground beneath feet other than my own. I kept my eyes closed, not ready to bear what was coming. This was it; I was leaving this world cold and on the ground with no one. I was completely alone, no family, no friends, I lost everything and was leaving behind the stolen clothes on my back. I felt the presence of my attacker and opened one swollen eye to find a different pair of boots. These shoes were much nicer than the tattered old work boots from a couple of minutes ago. Black and shiny with nary any dirt on them, black laces held the pristine leather closed to the ankle.

A soothing voice permeated my ears, Are you all right? His voice was heavenly. At this point I had no doubt I had died and for some reason I got a get out of jail free card and landed in Heaven. His arms encircled me and I found myself sitting up staring into the face of my guardian angel.

I didn’t realize Heaven would be as cold as Earth? And why do I still feel pain? A small, beautiful smile played upon his lips and he calmly and quietly explained.

You’re still alive Collette. How do you feel? I’m still alive! This was a revelation. If I am still alive, did he really just ask me how I feel? Well, I just got the shit kicked out of me by a man the size of the Hulk, how do you think I feel?

I frowned and answered, I don’t know how I feel. Very sore for sure, I’m sure I will be more sore tomorrow. A thought suddenly occurred to me. If I’m still alive, who the hell is this gorgeous man in front of me and where did he come from? This saint, he was one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. He obviously took care of himself, so what is he doing in this part of town and under this dirty old bridge? He had a shaved head, but if he grew his hair out it would be dark, maybe black even. He had piercing green eyes, unlike any I had ever seen. He was dressed in all black; black cargo pants and a black jacket, none of which seemed to have any ounce of dirt on them; surprising, especially since I was sure I heard a struggle.

Who are you? I asked, more attitude licked on that question than intended. A puzzling look crossed his face as if he was internally struggling with his answer. He bypassed the question altogether and started checking to see if I was more injured than what he could see. I started shivering and found myself unable to drag my gaze from him. I realized I was staring but couldn’t stop. I winced when he passed over my ribs and he stopped suddenly realizing Hulk hurt me more than what he anticipated.

I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I couldn’t get my mind around what was happening and who this man was. I couldn’t remember the last time I received this kindness which almost frightened me more.

Where’s Hulk? I asked through chattering teeth. A small laugh escaped his lips and it was a beautiful sound, I had not heard anyone laugh in a very long time. He took his black, fitted leather gloves off and handed them to me to put on. I was very grateful; I was in fear of frostbite on both my hands although that was not a top of mind issue at the moment. I reached to take them from him and noticed a tattoo on his wrist that looked like it continued up his arm.

Hulk, as you call him, is gone. He will not be bothering you anymore, he said interrupting my thoughts.

Did you kill him? I whispered. He stared at me with intense green eyes, nothing but warmth behind them and I knew the answer, he had killed Hulk and saved my life. Thank you, I managed, tears pricking the back of my eyes. I owed this strange, stunning man, my life. I couldn’t get any more words out as I sat gawking in mesmerisation.

Come Collette, I need to take you to the hospital. He wasn’t asking, he was gently demanding, and I wasn’t in any mood to argue. A question came to mind - he knows my name? I slowly stood up with his gentle assistance under both arms, neither of us breaking eye contact. On my feet, I felt steadier than I probably should have.

I stared thoughtfully at him and finally found my words, Who are you? I asked through exasperated breaths.

Collette, I’m...

I woke, startled and disoriented. My arms stretched out, seeking the cold dirt beneath me but finding a soft fitted sheet covering a mattress. Sunlight streamed through the lavender curtains showcasing the large window overlooking a parking lot. I propped myself up on one elbow. I stared at the full length mirror opposite the bed, noticing only pillow lines caressing my left cheek. I must have had a bad dream. My alarm clock screamed at me telling me it was time to get up. I threw a bed pillow at it in utter frustration. I hurled an arm over my face and laid in disbelief.

Who was he? I whispered to myself, a small smile crossing my lips - delicious. A grunt of frustration left my lips as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I stretched and was surprised to find I wasn’t physically sore, although the devil who appeared on my shoulder with terrible bed hair, had her ice packs, Tylenol 3’s and a bottle of gin ready for me as she licked her own wounds on the chaise lounge she had so ungracefully flopped down on. Eventually, I swung my legs off the bed, slipping my feet into new brown suede moccasins, heading straight for the bathroom I shared with my roommate and best friend Chloe Collins. I stared at myself in the mirror while I waited for the tepid water to start steaming. Facing my haggard reflection, I admittedly noticed my contrasting gaunt face against my naturally bronze skin. A result from the stress, no doubt, of my involuntary travels.

I could feel the muscles in my face relaxing and wake up under the warm stream of water. I shampooed my hair quickly and hopped out, wrapping a towel around my head and another around my body. As I headed back into the bedroom to pull out some clothes, I scowled at my alarm clock in harboured anger.

I walked into the kitchen to find Chloe sitting at the kitchen table in her white terry bathrobe eating a bowl of Cheerios. She was reading the morning paper. Her delicate features still makeup-free and the dark roots of her tousled pale-blond, ombre strands were showing. Staring at my confident friend, my own lack of stared back at me - front and centre. My mixed bag of insecurities flashed through my head, starting with the early years of high school. I was a quiet adolescent going through puberty, secluding myself to eating my lunch in the locker bay of the school. To say I was ignored inferred people had to actually take notice of who I was; perpetually invisible, and my self confidence started at the bottom of my toes and went nowhere. My anxieties lingered like a bad cologne of timidity until I left home and started university where I met Chloe, the tyrant determined to pull me out of my shell, slowly and patiently – I was indebted to her forever for instilling just a hint of the confidence she carried with her into me. I smiled in gratitude as I walked into the kitchen.

Morning Cole! she was always so cheery in the morning.

Morning, I grumbled in response despite my upbeat thoughts.

Sleep well?

Yes, thank you, I replied as I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. Chloe and I had met last year in residence of our first semester at Ryerson University. While attending the same History of Modern Art class, I borrowed a pen from her and since then we had been relatively inseparable. Chloe was tall with long blond hair. She was the epitome of beautiful. She had a body to die for with bright blue sapphire eyes and full lips; most people found her intimidating and I had to admit, so did I sometimes. I admired her self-assurance and the rebellious streak that ran through her veins. Chloe knew what she wanted and went for it, including leaving behind a successful modeling career for an education and some facade of normalcy in her early adulthood. Chloe was a smart girl and in her own words, modelling became boring and repetitive – she sought something that titillated more of her brain other than which version of blue steel she would use. For someone with such insubordinate tendencies, Chloe got her start in fashion fairly conservatively. At age fourteen, she won a modelling contest at the local mall in her native Vancouver and then jetted off to Paris, walking luxury catwalks in ultimate fashion - Chanel, Prada, DVF. In the past couple of years, Chloe stepped back from the spotlight and flash of cameras, turning her attention to studies of the arts despite the wants her parents, rather her mother, pushed on her.

I was going to wake you this morning. You must have been having another bad dream. You kept saying ‘Just get it over with’ and you were breathing so fast, I was getting worried, but then you stopped, so I just left you to sleep.

Yea must have been, I don’t really remember it, I lied. Of course I remembered it; I had been having the same dreams for as long as I had been able to form sustainable memories. I sat staring at my untouched Cheerios, overanalyzing the recurrent thematic events of my dreams over the years. The relative similarity was unnerving with no explanation. I had done some loose research on dreams and without a solid explanation, I chalked it up to the semblance of the classic ‘falling dream,’ this was my falling dream.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Chloe; she was the type of person that would examine my dream to the nth degree and try and find meaning behind everything that happened in the foreign lands of my weird, twisted mind unleashed and having free range while I sleep.

You ready for round two? she asked, interrupting my distracted thoughts.

Round two? I asked.

She sighed with a big smile, Yea, day one year two! Cole it’s going to be amazing! We’re like veterans this year, no longer the newbies. And, a fresh new batch of boys! she squealed. I had to laugh, Chloe and her boys, I didn’t think she could ever get enough.

Yea it’ll be fun, Chlo, I’m excited.

Okay! Hurry up! I want to make sure we get a good seat for first class, she stated urgently.

Alright, alright, I’m going. I just need to get dressed. I took my bowl of cereal into my room and mindlessly ate while I scanned my closet for something to wear. I decided on my favourite pair of ripped jeans and a white tank top. I figured I should bring a sweater with me even though it was much warmer than the usual September in Toronto – the lecture halls might not be. I combed out my hair, put some powder on my face and laced my lashes with my double XL mascara. I gave myself a nod of approval, took a deep breath, grabbed my new school bag and headed back out into the living room. Chloe was ready by the door waiting on me.

Wow! Cole! You look great! I didn’t realize how tanned you were. Damn, you’re a knockout!

Thanks, I laughed and gave her a shy smile. I must admit, I was impressed with my bronzed glow; it brought out the grey in my eyes which I thought were my best attribute. Right back at you babe. She beamed, and I noticed she had recently had another whitening treatment. She looked flawless as usual, in full makeup and flowing hair styled with loose curls, donning a chic white mini skirt and baby blue tank; who says you can’t wear white after Labor Day? Chloe sure knew how to boost an ego and dish out compliments, she also knew how to take them with grace; always confident and knew it, a trait of which I had to admit made me jealous.

Genuinely ogling my look, Well, what’s his face will sure take notice, hmm, hmm? she said with a sly smile and nudging me with her elbow.

I don’t know and I don’t care, I replied matter-of-factly.

Oh! Touchy subject. Ok let’s go slay the dragon! and with that she was off down the hall toward the elevator. I turned and locked the door, following in step, silently grateful my friend knew when to drop a subject I wasn’t comfortable talking about. And I definitely wasn’t comfortable talking about He Who Must Not Be Named.

It really was a beautiful day; the sun was shining and I was only too happy to pull out my sunglasses for the ride to school. Chloe said she would drive and I gladly obliged. She got a new car over the summer; her dad bought her a new Volkswagen Beetle convertible for passing first year classes. Must be nice, was my first thought when she told me – after my thoughts of happiness and joy for her of course. My usual way of getting from point A to point B was my bus pass. I grew up in a good home, but my parents in no way had money comparable to Chloe’s family; everything I had I worked for and paid for myself, unfortunately a car was not one of those assets.

I slid into the passenger side rubbing my hands along the soft fabric of the seat. I inhaled the delightful, pungent new car scent and I felt myself looking up to the ceiling as my eyes widened in surprise noticing the fabric of the soft top folding back into itself retracting against the morning sun. I grinned at her, a giddy feeling filling me. I pushed aside my desirous feelings and revelled in the coolness this car exuded. We buckled up, turned on some tunes, and pulled out of the parking lot into the beautiful morning that awaited us. We sped through the early morning bustle of the city and made our way to campus. I took in the familiar scenery, a smile crossing my lips at the memories that flooded my mind. My first year of school was one of the best years of my life and I knew this year held the same potential, if not more. Here, in the big city with the force of confidence sitting beside me, I was able to become someone I didn’t have the courage to be in my small home town. Pulling into a parking spot, the impressive building with stated modern presence sat regally in front of us. Large windows cascaded down, encasing the front of the building with large double doors upon entrance. I always wondered the detailed past of this stately structure – it was so intriguing, the history it must hold.

Chloe squealed, bringing me out of my inquisitive state. Oh, my, God! Look at all the boys!

I couldn’t help but laugh at my friend, You are like a crazed hormonal teen girl, you know that right?

Oh please, don’t pretend you’re not excited! she gushed. Maybe you’re just nervous to run into Brandon? I glared at her as the words escaped her mouth. My previous grateful feelings about dropping a subject I wasn’t comfortable speaking about dissipated. She named the nameless.

That’s old news Chloe, and I intend to keep him that way.

No backsliding then, huh?

I attempted and failed to suffocate my laugh in an effort to maintain my glower, No, definitely no backsliding! Backsliding was a term I learned from Chloe; she informed me it was when you went back to an ex for the sake of being with someone. She also informed me she was somewhat of a professional backslider, which was not a surprise as Chloe had a lot of potential in that area.

She joined in my laughter, Good! Let’s find us some new dick!

Chloe! I yelled, shocked she was so vulgar so early in the morning.

Oh please! she laughed, Cole, you know you need it, so why don’t you take the stick out of your ass and let’s go!

Oh my God, I muttered to myself, shaking my head. We got out of the car and I grabbed my bag from the back seat. She was standing on the curb, her weight on one leg; one arched, perfectly shaded eyebrow raised, wearing a full-tooth smile. I rolled my eyes at her in response, Let’s go, I said, implying full sarcasm, she ignored my dig. We walked side by side, slower than we probably could have and I assumed this was so Chloe could gawk at the new, ahem, talent. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Chloe had been waving and winking at some guys who must be new this year, I hadn’t seen them before. I couldn’t help but question who would be staying the night at the apartment. Chloe was beautiful and smart, but she wasn’t one to say no to a cute guy, no matter how bad it looked on her because as Chloe often said, to quote Marilyn Monroe, ‘Well behaved women rarely make history’ – amen sister. We walked in silence up to the main doors as Chloe pulled out our schedule; we made sure we took most of the same classes which worked out handy because we had most of the same interests. Chloe wasn’t as concerned about school as I was, she wasn’t on a scholarship and in turn received lavish gifts for completing the year with a passing grade. Her explanation for starting school was because she was tiring of modeling but I also knew the rebel in her started school out of spite for her mother who stood on the opposite side of education, disagreeing with her decision when she told them she was taking a leave of absence from fashion. She was used to having things handed to her and even though I knew she was getting bored of school, I was glad she tolerated it, for my own selfish reasons. It worked out for her that we took most of the same classes so she could copy a lot of my work when her ways became more wayward as we progressed through our program. I didn’t mind because she gave me a lot of lenience with other things; rides to school in her fancy new car, I only had to pay a quarter of the rent (her Dad paid the rest) and I didn’t have to pay any utilities.