Read Online Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) by A.J. Norris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A.J. Norris
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he reached the exit, he sealed the door so none of them would be able to escape. Except…the seal had been broken when Amalya had entered and they stayed put. He chuckled under his breath. It was safer to be inside the room than out. Goats made a great deterrent.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Amalya
Amalya hated being ordered around. Why was she allowing this? The tattoo on her hip heated to the point of searing pain. She rubbed the area.
“Oh God!” Another pain hit her; this time in the back, pitching her onto the floor. She rose to her knees then another attack flattened her again. “Oh God. Help.” The pain blinded her. Feeling nauseous, she dry heaved. Gagging reflexes made her esophagus feel like it was turning inside out. She choked on her tongue and took deep wheezing breaths through her mouth. Her eyes watered.
She crawled over to a full length mirror. Along the way her knees and hands gave out several times from the excruciating throb. Reaching the mirror, she used the gilded frame to pull herself up and held onto one side turning as much of her back to the mirror as she could and still see. With difficulty she wrenched her neck to see her backside. Her eyes widened when more pain radiated out between her shoulder blades. The skin stretched over twin ridges under the surface. Something black poked through, oozing with blood.
“Oh God.”
Her knees hurt. She was on the floor now, her torso curled over her thighs with her feet under her. Sweat glistened on her entire body. She turned her head so she could look at her reflection. The black protrusions continued to emerge, blood trickling from the wounds.
Now numb to the pain, she rocked forward and back on her knees, murmuring over and over. “Oh God, please…please help me. What’s happening?” Amalya was so sorry again she’d once thought she’d be better off dead. She told God this as she prayed for someone to save her.
A soggy something dropped beside her leg. She plucked it from the marble floor and wiped it between the fingers of her other hand. Soft. Black. What was it? A question of denial, there was no mistaking what it was.
A feather.
The dark bulges on her back unfurled. The sensation reminded her of opening a balled fist while her knuckles cracked one at a time.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Aza’zel
Aza’zel had to find the angel’s woman before he went looking for him. He knew Abaddon had a new mistress. She must be the one, the angel, Elliott, spoke of. Running as fast as his hooves could take him, he traveled toward the set of chambers designated as his master’s. The first place to check was his private bedroom. His master often kept human women there until he grew tired of them then tossed them in with the rest of the harem.
A hierarchy had developed within their ranks. Aza’zel stayed away, wanting no part of that hot mess. Blech! He shuddered remembering the one time he’d gotten too close to the door and had been yanked inside. Their hands had pawed all over his flesh and fur. What a nightmare. They’d told him was attractive for a goat. He didn’t see any difference between himself and the others like him.
He tiptoed, well, his version of it. The manner of which consisted of creeping slowly across a stone floor that echoed every single noise. If that weren’t bad enough, the sound was amplified by the cavern-like walls. He held his breath approaching the bedroom. The door was ajar. Raising a hand, he felt the wood panel. From the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood out, he knew the room was sealed, but only from within. Anyone confined to the room couldn’t escape, though anyone could enter. Aza’zel found this curious. Why would his master seal her in, and not keep others out? The purpose eluded him.
He peered around the door-jamb and his eyes widened.
Holy shit! Wait, what? Holy what?
Where had he come up with the word
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Amalya
Amalya hated being ordered around. Why was she allowing this? The tattoo on her hip heated to the point of searing pain. She rubbed the area.
“Oh God!” Another pain hit her; this time in the back, pitching her onto the floor. She rose to her knees then another attack flattened her again. “Oh God. Help.” The pain blinded her. Feeling nauseous, she dry heaved. Gagging reflexes made her esophagus feel like it was turning inside out. She choked on her tongue and took deep wheezing breaths through her mouth. Her eyes watered.
She crawled over to a full length mirror. Along the way her knees and hands gave out several times from the excruciating throb. Reaching the mirror, she used the gilded frame to pull herself up and held onto one side turning as much of her back to the mirror as she could and still see. With difficulty she wrenched her neck to see her backside. Her eyes widened when more pain radiated out between her shoulder blades. The skin stretched over twin ridges under the surface. Something black poked through, oozing with blood.
“Oh God.”
Her knees hurt. She was on the floor now, her torso curled over her thighs with her feet under her. Sweat glistened on her entire body. She turned her head so she could look at her reflection. The black protrusions continued to emerge, blood trickling from the wounds.
Now numb to the pain, she rocked forward and back on her knees, murmuring over and over. “Oh God, please…please help me. What’s happening?” Amalya was so sorry again she’d once thought she’d be better off dead. She told God this as she prayed for someone to save her.
A soggy something dropped beside her leg. She plucked it from the marble floor and wiped it between the fingers of her other hand. Soft. Black. What was it? A question of denial, there was no mistaking what it was.
A feather.
The dark bulges on her back unfurled. The sensation reminded her of opening a balled fist while her knuckles cracked one at a time.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Aza’zel
Aza’zel had to find the angel’s woman before he went looking for him. He knew Abaddon had a new mistress. She must be the one, the angel, Elliott, spoke of. Running as fast as his hooves could take him, he traveled toward the set of chambers designated as his master’s. The first place to check was his private bedroom. His master often kept human women there until he grew tired of them then tossed them in with the rest of the harem.
A hierarchy had developed within their ranks. Aza’zel stayed away, wanting no part of that hot mess. Blech! He shuddered remembering the one time he’d gotten too close to the door and had been yanked inside. Their hands had pawed all over his flesh and fur. What a nightmare. They’d told him was attractive for a goat. He didn’t see any difference between himself and the others like him.
He tiptoed, well, his version of it. The manner of which consisted of creeping slowly across a stone floor that echoed every single noise. If that weren’t bad enough, the sound was amplified by the cavern-like walls. He held his breath approaching the bedroom. The door was ajar. Raising a hand, he felt the wood panel. From the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood out, he knew the room was sealed, but only from within. Anyone confined to the room couldn’t escape, though anyone could enter. Aza’zel found this curious. Why would his master seal her in, and not keep others out? The purpose eluded him.
He peered around the door-jamb and his eyes widened.
Holy shit! Wait, what? Holy what?
Where had he come up with the word
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