Angel Falls Vol 1

By Stephanie Burke

With the town of Angel Falls, Maryland, on their side, broken wings will learn to fly once more.

Most people avoid Angel Falls. They say it’s filled with crazy geeks and weirdoes. And they’re right. But Angel Falls has the best geeks and weirdoes anyone

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Mar 23, 2019

Book preview

Angel Falls Vol. 1

Stephanie Burke

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

BIN: 008638-02791

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

315 N. Centre St.

Martinsburg, WV 25404

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Katriena Knights

Cover Artist: Reneé George

Adult Sexual Content

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Table of Contents

Angel Falls Vol. 1

Broken Wings (Angel Falls 1)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

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

Snake (Angel Falls 2)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Sunspots (Angel Falls 3)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Stephanie Burke

Angel Falls Vol. 1

Stephanie Burke

Most people avoid Angel Falls. They say it’s filled with crazy geeks and weirdoes. And they’re right. But Angel Falls has the best geeks and weirdoes anyone has ever met.

Broken Wings: Angel, foundling turned NFL star quarterback, and Klintic, a Fae warrior prince, have both been tested in the fires of torment and anguish and managed to survive to find each other. That the ex-footballer and the betrayed prince manage to discover each other is a miracle. With the town of Angel Falls on their side, broken wings will learn to fly once more.

Snake: Snake’s lived a good, long life and is comfortable doing tattoos and body modifications in her shop. But when young Ethan comes to her, he opens more than memories to her past. He unleashes a love she could never have anticipated. A May/December relationship will never work, but with a little magic and the secrets held in the town of Angel Falls, maybe together they can give love a second chance.

Sunspots: Bryan Adams finally has a date with the man of his dreams -- Winston Macapthy, RN, descendant of a sun god and a caracal shifter to boot. Finally the geeks are going to come out on top. But if Bryan’s less-than-perfect physique doesn’t put off the handsome shifter, then kidnapping, torture, and running for their lives might.

Or it may just be another perfect weekend… perfect for the small Maryland town of Angel Falls.

Broken Wings (Angel Falls 1)

Stephanie Burke

After heartbreak and betrayal, two wounded souls will fix their broken wings and learn to fly again.

How much pain can one soul take before it shatters?

Angel Falls, foundling turned NFL star quarterback, and Fae warrior prince Klintic have both been tested in the fires of torment and anguish and managed to survive to find each other.

That the ex-footballer and the betrayed prince manage to discover each other is a miracle. Staying together will be an even bigger challenge. But Angel Falls, Maryland, is a town like no other. And with a town full of geeks and weirdoes on your side, reporters and rogue scientists don’t stand a chance. Broken wings will be mended, and their souls will learn to fly once more.

Chapter One

Three more books? Angel wailed, resisting the urge to jump up and down like the eight-year-olds who came to his book signings with their starry-eyed parents. In one year?

You can do it. His agent laughed. And I got you a great deal too. Hollywood turning your book into a movie is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.

I guess, Angel muttered into his cell phone, moving deeper into the woods that surrounded his Angel Falls home.

Angel had returned home, tail between his legs so to speak, after an ugly breakup, and bought the massive property where he now lived. Returning home had been instinctive, no matter how he’d longed to shake the dust of the ultraconservative town from his feet. He’d come back here to hide in the order and rules he had always railed against. But when he returned to the only place he’d ever called home, he’d found it greatly changed.

No longer were there cookie-cutter, Tudor-style homes ringed by green box hedges and oak trees. Now there was a staggering amount of individuality all squeezed into one small town.

There wasn’t a cardigan sweater or string of pearls in sight. The Angel Falls Men’s Club had been replaced by Snake’s Tattoos and Piercings, run by the seventy-two-year-old Snake herself. The quaint restaurant where in Angel’s youth one of his foster families had flocked for breakfast after Sunday service was now Planet Quest Café.

It was the perfect place for a broken-hearted ex-jock to retreat to lick his wounds in privacy.

It was also here he’d found the means to soothe his shattered soul. He’d finally put his degree in English to good use -- the one he’d gotten by taking a chance and putting off the NFL for a year to complete his college education. He began writing about the very thing that kept him sane when his foster homes were less than desirable -- the world of brave princes and beautiful fairies.

At first the books were more of a comfort to him than anything else after losing his career to injury and then losing his relationship and the baby his girlfriend had decided, without consulting him, not to carry. But one day he left his notebook in Planet Quest Café and the owner, Amber Graves, read through it in an effort to discover who had left it behind. She was so entranced with the stories that, by the time he remembered where he’d left his beloved leather binder, she had read all of them and was clamoring for more. He finally gave in and sent a short story to a publisher. The stories were immediately picked up and touted as the best thing in children’s literature since that book about the boy wizard.

His story, about an abused human boy who stumbles his way into the world of fairies and accidentally makes himself the king’s champion, shot to the top of the charts. Then, in his third year writing, Hollywood had come to call. At first he was reluctant to accept the offer, but he decided to go for it and to dedicate the movie as well as the books to his lost child. He wrote under a pseudonym, not wanting anyone to connect the shattered ex-football player with the closeted and reclusive writer AF Hudson.

And now his agent had cut a deal for a sequel to the series. It would be a massive undertaking, but he would do it, and again ease his soul-deep pain by dedicating the book to his lost child.

The problem was, his characters no longer spoke to him. It was the worst case of writer’s block he’d ever experienced, and he was almost sure it spelled the end of his career.

I’ll get back with you in a few days, Rich, he finally said, cutting off his agent.

Good. Rich sighed, as if knowing Angel wasn’t invested in the conversation at all. I’ll wait till I hear from you.

All right. Angel started to disconnect the call, but Rich’s voice stopped him.

There’s some reporter sniffing around about a ‘where are they now’ piece, Angel. I told him to fuck off, but I have a feeling he’s not going to give up so easily.

Great, Angel thought, cursing mentally as he thought of being hounded once more by a media who felt they had a right to put his pain on display. Apparently the pseudonym hadn’t been enough to keep him under the radar. Thanks for the heads up, he nearly growled at the phone. But I think I’m safe here.

It’s damn hard to find you in that twisted, crazy zone where you currently reside. His agent laughed. I’d keep my eye out just in case. The reporter’s name is Jonathon Greely.

Thanks, Rich. And goodbye.

Angel disconnected the call and moved deeper into the woods. He braved the trails regularly in a bid to exercise his injured knee and clear his head.

It hadn’t been easy getting to the point where he could feel connected with life again, but the exercise and the fresh air helped, as did the acceptance of the people who lived here. They could care less about who he was or what had happened to him -- they just accepted him as a shy recluse who fit into a town already half occupied by shy recluses.

It was great.

He was about to turn back home to stare at his computer screen again when he heard the screaming. It sounded like someone was stabbing a peacock with a pitchfork.

He turned toward the sound, his feet automatically moving him at a swift pace deeper into the woods, into a place he rarely visited. Before he reached its source, the screaming stopped.

Damn, he murmured, wondering what he would find when he got there. He had high hopes that whatever was attacking the poor creature had fled and that maybe the poor prey hadn’t died.

He’d just rounded a small copse of maple trees when he saw the body.

Good God, he gasped, looking around to see if whatever had savaged the poor man was still nearby.

And it was a man, wearing ripped pants and slashed boots. He was bare-chested save for a pair of ill-fitted costume wings attached to his back.

Moving around to the man’s head, Angel dropped to his knees and pulled what seemed like mountains of dyed hair out of his face, wondering what the green goo that covered him was. It was tacky, the consistency of drying paint, and it liberally splattered the poor man’s form.

But the man was breathing. When Angel pressed his fingers against his neck, he could feel the steady pulse beneath his soft, warm skin. The man wasn’t exactly pale. No, his skin tone was dusky with an olive tint. His body under the grime and fake wings was fit and muscular.

Hey. Hey, buddy. Can you hear me? Angel asked, tapping him on the face, not wanting to move him in case of injury. Hey.

He tapped the man again, looking around to find the cause of his injury. The ground wasn’t torn up as it would be if he’d been defending himself. The trees and even the grass in the small clearing remained undisturbed. Unless the man had been dropped out of a plane, Angel couldn’t see how he’d found his way onto his property wearing a set of wings…

Wings, he muttered, shaking his head. Maybe this was one of the citizens of Angel Falls. Maybe he was a geek who’d invented some kind of flying machine and had tried to test it, with disastrous results. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. A few years ago, an incident with a jet pack had torched a good half-acre of his land and the inventor, a fifteen-year-old boy who was way too young to be playing with jet fuel, broke a thumb on Angel’s property.

Angel reached for the wings and --Damn it! He quickly pulled his hand back as what felt like a hell of a lot of static electricity zapped his fingers.

Shaking his fingers, he again tried to get the man to respond. Sir? Sir, can you hear me?

He was about to give up on waking his avian visitor to call 911 when the man’s eyelids fluttered.

Yeah, Angel encouraged, speaking a little louder. That’s it, buddy. Come on and open those eyes for me --

The injured man’s eyes fluttered once more and then blinked open. His eyes -- the color was so shocking Angel nearly jumped back before he realized the solid black had to be contact lenses.

Calling himself all kinds of a fool, he moved in closer. Hey? Buddy?

"Cosxgrturve exzline gzlk," the man gasped, his tongue twisting the incomprehensible words.

Slurred speech. Angel spoke to himself, already reaching for his cell. This looked like it might be serious --

"Cosxgrturve kzilei jemanzr!" the man said, his voice steadier.

Calm down, buddy -- Angel rested a hand on the man’s shoulder when he suddenly lurched as if to get up. Hey! But the man braced a hand on Angel’s shoulder and fought to rise.

Not wanting him to hurt himself more -- brain injuries could be tricky, as his year in the NFL had taught him -- Angel braced the man as he lurched to his feet. Suddenly he was looking up into a dark-eyed visage that was staring back at him.

The man was big, and for Angel to say that was telling. Angel himself stood at six feet seven inches tall, a formidable height for a quarterback, but this man -- he had to be about a foot taller than Angel.

And as Angel stared, his mouth open in shock, his cell dangling unused from his hand, the man arched his back and the wings fluttered. Then, as Angel tried to figure out how the massive things were attached, there was a zap that felt like a milder form of that earlier static electricity, and the wings began to glow faintly.

He blinked at this marvelous feat of technology then noticed one of the wings seemed to be broken.

Damn, he muttered, stepping around the man to peer closer at his back while supporting him. The man was on his feet but still unsteady. One of the wings looked different than the other, stunted and listing to the right. That’s a damn shame.

Angel reached out to touch the broken wing. Even as he reached, the light intensified. Just as his fingers gently touched the broken wing, there was a zap, and then he felt himself flying backward. He hit the tree and his world grew dim as he stared at the shocked-looking man. The wing, the once-broken wing, had developed a silver halo that made it a glowing match to the other, undamaged one. It was right about then that Angel realized the wings just might be real.

He blinked rapidly to clear his graying vision, and with every blink the winged man came closer. When Angel’s vision began to steady, the sharp ache in his back from smashing into the tree became noticeable. He looked up and saw the man looming over him, frowning.

Wh-what -- Angel managed to gasp when the man reached out for him, tangled blue and silver hair flowing over his shoulders, wings fluttering behind him.

"Czutith Iptz zlizta okay?"

Angel knew he’d hit his head. He had to have suffered some sort of brain injury, because he’d understood that last word.

"Czutith you okay?" The black eyes glittered with some inner energy as the man tilted his head down to peer at Angel.

You -- what? He knew he had to sound like an idiot, but it looked like a genuine alien or something was staring at him.

The winged man tilted his head up as if staring at the sun, and his eyes narrowed as he looked around him. He opened his mouth to speak but froze as a bright yellow butterfly flitted past. Butterfly. The man’s eyes followed the yellow insect as it lit upon some low grasses, then flew away.

He was fascinated by a butterfly? Angel’s own eyes followed the path of the Lepidoptera until he felt a gentle touch on his face and looked back to the winged man.

By rights, Angel should be screaming and fighting, fearful for his life, but he was just too fascinated by this man. Then the winged man pressed his fingers over Angel’s eyes. Angel felt a mild jolt again, as if he’d been hit by electricity. He winced, jerking away when the man began speaking again.

Our brief contact wasn’t enough for me to acquire all the knowledge I needed to communicate with you. But I have just corrected that deficit.

Uh --

The man removed his hand and knelt. I am regretful that you were harmed, but I thought it was common knowledge that only a mate or someone with a parental bond can touch the wings of another.

Wings? This was all a bit much for Angel to take in.

Hmm, you do not appear to be injured, though you lack essential wings. Could it be you are like some of the stories of the Southlanders? It is said there are wingless tribes there.

Wingless tribes, Angel managed, before shaking his head. No one has wings here.

Butterfly. The winged man grinned. Yes, butterfly.

Before Angel could make more of a fool of himself, the man reached down and grasped his hands. One jerk, and Angel was standing shakily on his feet. He looked up once again and gawked at the black eyes, the fluttering wings of silver-blue light, and felt himself list to the side. Then his world spun as he was turned and hefted bridal style into a pair of strong arms.

I will seek shelter and attempt to heal you. The man’s voice was rich and velvety. I must ascertain as much information about this place to which I have been exiled.

Exiled? But Angel’s back and head hurt too much to bother with much of anything at this point. He did note that it was odd he wasn’t panicking and chalked it up to a side effect of the blow to his head. When he was healed, he would kick up a fuss good and proper. Until then, he absently pointed toward the trail he’d blazed to get to the strange, winged alien. Home, he stated, and the winged man twisted his mouth to the right and sort of clicked. But he began to head off in the right direction and, oddly enough, Angel found himself wishing for a pen and paper so he could write this down.

It would make an awesome plot for a book.

Chapter Two

It didn’t take long for Klintic to traverse the landscape of trees and tall grasses. As they moved, he noted the sounds of insects and small creatures again filled the warm air. The human was a pleasant weight in his arms, and he found he enjoyed caring for the small male. The man was rather attractive, with dark hair that curled, and skin almost the same shade as that of Klintic’s lost prince.

It burned, the pain of his father’s actions -- ached like nothing else ever had. To realize that all those years his father’s love had been a lie was enough to bring him to his knees. And that his advisors had just followed along, believing his presence was a hindrance and even worse, an embarrassment to the kingdom, just because of his broken wing.

Did all his battles mean nothing? Did his defense of the realm count for naught? All his life he’d struggled on, secure in the knowledge that no matter what he did, he had the love and support of his brother and his father. But that, too, was a lie.

And the land, Mother Magic -- he could not feel her in this place. But he flexed his own personal magic and felt it flow through his body steady and strong.

He looked down at the being in his arms. It looked male -- small, but male -- and, distressingly enough, it didn’t have wings. It also had no clan markings or magic to speak of. And the magical rejection of his touch hadn’t been the violent explosion Klintic had expected, leaving one who dared trespass a mass of burnt flesh and blood. Instead, his magic had merely pushed the male back.

When he’d touched the creature, he’d absorbed quite a bit of its language. A lot of the pictures and phrases that flooded his mind were nearly incomprehensible, but he’d picked up enough to know that the male might have truly been hurt from the magic push, and that his intentions were pure. But he seemed to understand what was going on, so Klintic continued along the small path he was given to understand led to home. A short time later, he came upon a neat but unshielded dwelling.

Home, the human said again, and Klintic realized this had to be the place where the small man dwelled.

Quaint, Klintic answered, and laughed as the human startled in his arms.

You do understand me, he managed, his odd green-and-white eyes widening.

I explained I pulled the language syntax from your mind. I just need to match objects with some words.

Oh. The male seemed to be pulling himself together. You can put me down now.

Are you able to stand?

Yes. He nodded. I think I was a bit dazed, but I am on more solid ground now.

The ground on which we stood was solid. Klintic lifted his head, peering down at the other man in curiosity.

Um… idiom, the human explained as he wiggled in Klintic’s arms. Klintic placed him on his feet, his hands at the ready to catch him if assistance was needed. But the human steadied himself and moved toward an entrance in the dwelling, hurrying up steps made of wood.

It’s not very safe, you know, Klintic called out, and the human paused to look over his shoulder.

Pardon me?

He waved away the apology. You have done nothing to beg pardon for. I was just pointing out that those wooden steps may be easily set on fire if an enemy chooses to attack. And you have no protective wall surrounding your dwelling.

Um, fire attacks aren’t a big thing here. He smiled. Please come in and make yourself at home.

Inside your dwelling? It is magical, then? he asked, confused. Is it larger inside than out, allowing enough space for me to construct my own dwelling?

No. The human shot Klintic a confused look but waved him in. I meant please come in and make yourself comfortable.

Nodding, Klintic followed the human, noting the wooden landing he had to cross before he could enter the huge glass doors into the dwelling -- the home. This glass is not very practical either, human. It is easily broken, leaving you open to invasion.

I have a security system, the human stammered, but let Klintic inside this home.

* * *

There’s an alien in my living room… There’s an alien in my living room… There’s an alien in my living room…

The phrase repeated itself over and over in his head, and Angel still couldn’t believe it. But his uncertainty was quickly being replaced by curiosity and fascination. There was a real live alien in his living room. He looked the winged man over as he in turn looked over Angel’s home.

Are you… can you… Angel trailed off. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.

The man lifted his eyebrow and his head, peering down at him from his superior height. Was that an insult or did it mean something else entirely? Angel couldn’t assign human meanings to any gestures he made, so he knew he had to tread lightly.

I am Prince… I am Klintic, the winged man introduced himself. And what do you call this realm?

Realm?

Your king --

Okay, Angel muttered to himself. Major cultural differences. Then to Klintic, We don’t have a monarchy. In America, the land where you are now, we have a president.

President? He tilted his head up, and Angel began to think maybe that was a sign of confusion rather than superiority.

He governs the people who make laws.

So a president is like a king --

No. Angel shook his head, wishing he’d taken some student teaching when he was getting his English degree. A president is elected by the people. So, in essence, he works for the people.

Confusing. Klintic wrinkled his nose and looked down at Angel once more. Your world is confusing to me, your king-yet-not-a-king president and your lack of magic --

Magic? Aliens had magic?

Your people have no connection to Mother Magic. The tall man sighed. I am forced to rely on my own reserves and recover when I rest. It is something I will have to grow used to.

Mother Magic? Angel moved closer to the alien and resisted the urge to pelt him with questions. I am called Angel. Angel Falls.

Again the head went up, and this time his brow wrinkled. You do not look like a heavenly being in service to a god --

In this case, it’s just a name, not a title, Angel explained, a smile tugging at his lips. For an advanced, space-faring creature, Klintic wasn’t so bad. And it’s also the name of this town.

Like a township. Klintic nodded as if that was something he understood. And you are lord of your manor. Where are your servants? What fortifications --

Hey, whoa! Slow down. Angel chuckled good-naturedly. There are no enemies to defend against -- well, not in the way you’re thinking.

But what if someone invades your dwelling?

I call the police?

Police?

How to explain? He moved deeper into his home, gesturing for Klintic to follow, praying he wasn’t making a gesture the alien would consider obscene. But Klintic followed him into the kitchen.

He pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar in the center of the large room. Sit, please. There was no way the man was going to sit comfortably at the kitchen table with his wings.

Once Klintic was seated, Angel asked, May I get you something to drink? I mean, you can drink, right?

Klintic just stared at him.

Okay… Angel decided to start with the basics. He opened his huge silver refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He cracked it open and carefully placed it before the spaceman.

Klintic, for his part, examined the bottle before picking it up. He flinched a little, possibly at the cold temperature of the bottle, then lifted it to his lips. After the first sip, he smiled and downed the whole bottle in seconds. Head tossed back and his throat muscles working overtime, he fairly poured the water down his throat.

And damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing Angel had seen in a long time.

He blinked rapidly and shook his head to clear the nasty thoughts of the other man on his knees, wings fluttering behind him as he sucked down Angel’s cock. He could fantasize later, after he discovered whether or not the man was the advance party for invaders intent on taking over the planet.

But the man seemed pretty nice for an invader.

So you can drink water?

Water, yes. He nodded. For drinking and for bathing. This realm is not so different from my own.

Realm. Is that what you call other planets? Angel pulled out another bottle. Klintic still looked thirsty.

Planets? Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars --

Yes, he nodded. The solar system.

A collection of planets in this known galaxy. We have not named our planets, but we have named our two moons and our stars.

Two moons? Your system has two moons? And you breathe oxygen on your planet? You have to or you would be dead. How far away is your home? You must have traveled many light years --

I did not travel through space. The Portal travels through realms.

Excuse me, what?

You seem to be laboring under a misconception. Klintic grinned as Angel took a seat next to him. I am not from another galaxy. I am from another realm.

A portal brought you here? Now Angel was confused. If Klintic wasn’t from space…

An opening in time and space, another dimension.

Dimension… like the Twilight Zone --

A dimension in time and space, tales told by Master Rod Sterling -- Klintic shook his head and blinked rapidly. The information -- it feels wrong.

"The Twilight Zone is an old television series. It was created for entertainment, to tell and show a story, years ago."

Entertainment, like bards. He nodded. I understand that. But it does not really apply in this situation. He picked up the second bottle and downed it as well.

Your situation?

I am not an invader as you seem to think. I am not from a planet in your Milky Way galaxy. I am from another dimension, one not so different from this one.

But you have a king and magic.

Yes. He smiled. Like in your fairy tales.

Angel eyed him suspiciously at that. You seem to know a lot about us.

I began to seek, he explained, and at Angel’s confused look, he raised his palms and wiggled his fingers. Angel gasped, jerking back in his chair as a glowing circle appeared before his eyes.

I have the ability to seek. I can open portals to places my magic allows me to find. It is a talent that runs in my mother’s bloodline, and only the most powerful can do this. As he spoke he widened the portal, and Angel was able to peer into his refrigerator. He blinked as he recognized the orange juice carton next to the tub of butter and the cottage cheese he accidentally bought and never got around to tossing.

When I open a portal, I can seek knowledge from the realm where it is opened. Scholars use these portals to learn about the places around us, to seek out danger, and to improve our philosophies and our lives. I have the ability to Far Seek, to open portals in dimensions very far removed from us.

The lights winked out, and Angel stared in awe at the space where the portal had floated moments before.

Another world, he breathed.

And when I touched you, I was able to form a direct connection to your realm before… He trailed off and took a deep breath, moving on quickly. His pain was so deep Angel could almost taste it. Usually I learn what I need from the magic that resides in the land but there is no magic here. Humans are the connection to this realm’s land, and through you, I learned language and history and a wondrous tangle of information. I just have to connect what I have in my head with actual things on this realm… like platypus… I have an image in my head but I find it hard to believe that there is a bird that swims underwater and yet remains that small. Our underwater birds are massive and can terrorize a town if left unchecked.

Angel wanted to choke on his own horror at the image of the tiny little platypus attacking a town like some deranged dragon. He shook off the image. So you’re here on a learning expedition?

I am here because I am betrayed, he growled, and Angel blinked at the sudden anger in his tone. No one has physically stepped through a portal before. Why would we want to?

Betrayed?

It is irrelevant. Klintic’s fingers toyed with the empty water bottle. I am here, and here I remain, as this realm has no magic for me to draw upon to open another Far Portal. I was only able to open one here because of my connection to the land and to Mother Magic.

You draw magic from the land, and there is no magic here, so you can never go back?

Klintic nodded in agreement, his light seeming to diminish a little as he sat there.

And you were betrayed? Instantly Angel’s writer’s mind leapt to theories and stories about evil kings and warrior fairies.

Yes. He nearly spat the word. By my father -- He stopped as Angel gasped in shock. I only seek to find more about this realm before I set off on my own, he finished in a rush. May I trouble you for a bath and to help explain -- to help acclimate me to this realm, please, Angel Falls? I will repay you by vanquishing any foes --

No foes, Angel interrupted, and the winged man looked almost crestfallen at that. But you can stay here, and I will offer any help that I can.

Why?

Angel blinked at that question, wondering what to say. Finally, he just decided on the truth. I know what betrayal feels like, especially by one you hold closest to your heart. The pain in his voice was obvious, he knew, but there was no way to hide it.

Klintic examined him for a moment, and then nodded. I do not wish to be a burden upon your good nature. I will assist you in any way I can, in any capacity that I am able.

Um… can you tell me about your world?

Klintic stared at him before a slow smile spread across his lips. Angel was relieved to see that a smile in Klintic’s culture seemed to mean the same thing as a smile in his -- not that different, after all. It is the most beautiful place ever. The sky is pale silver, our moons golden, our sun a deep pink. We do not have butterflies, but we do have dragons.

Dragons. Angel almost danced on his stool in his eagerness to hear more.

Yes, though they are not huge reptiles attacking people in metal clothing on the backs of beasts, nor do they speak and grant wishes. They are more like your butterflies, fluttering around and sleeping in flower petals. They are adorable. I caught over a dozen one season in my youth and kept them in my rooms. They made a mess of the room’s trappings, but their humming was sweet to my ears until my brother urged me to set them free. They have their own duties to perform to keep our world balanced. All left but one who became attached to my brother and rarely leaves Lapsen’s shoulder.

Portable dragons. Angel chuckled. Beautiful.

Not as beautiful as your butterflies. He sounded sad again.

You’re covered in -- Angel gestured to Klintic’s face and his hair, which were still spattered with dry, green goo.

Blood of my enemies, he growled, his solid black eyes narrowing. Spilled by another enemy’s hands.

That shook all thought of fairy-tale places from Angel’s mind. This was very real, and the man sitting here said he had been betrayed and basically trapped here. This wasn’t some fairy tale, and he had a feeling that no matter what happened, Klintic’s tale would not have a happily ever after.

Blood… your blood is green.

And I believe your blood is red. Odd.

Not as odd as green blood, Angel muttered, but rose to his feet. Come with me. No one deserves to sit bathed in the blood of their enemies. He would show him the shower, and he’d find him some clothing, and he’d learn more about his visitor.

His instincts led him to trust this man with wings, and not because he resembled something out of one of his fantasy books. He would trust him despite not trusting his own instincts. After all, following his heart had led him to Tiffany. But something soul-deep within him told him to help this man… and it had nothing to do with the fact Klintic was seriously hot.

No, he wanted to help this man because he understood betrayal and he would like to ease the pain