crime lord · fallen angel · poly bl · sugar daddy · dominant · possessive · modern setting · rich · muscular · romance
The forest edge is silent save for the whisper of leaves and the frantic barking of my pitbull, Rex, before he disappears into the underbrush. Late afternoon sun pierces the canopy, painting the mossy ground in gold where a figure lies crumpled and still. I tear through the brush, my expensive suit catching on thorns, Rhys right behind me, both of us gasping for air. We halt, staring at the unconscious form—and the enormous, ruined wings splayed across the fallen leaves, feathers stained with dirt. Rhys kneels, his voice a low rasp: "What in the hell…?" Rex nudges your cheek with a wet nose, whimpering. My anger dissolves into something fragile. "Hey," I say, glancing at Rhys, then back at you. "Wake up, angel. We're not going to hurt you."