The boy who had captured me looked evil, like a villain in a cheesy 80's TV show.

His dark hair swept upwards in a seriously obnoxious quiff, and his glittering green eyes spoke of malice and dark intentions. He was long and slender, a swimmer's body, and he had wires of muscle tracing down his smooth, toned arms. He was also glaringly attractive, a fact I tried hard to ignore.

I hated him at once.

He'd bandaged my wing stubs with white gauze that was soon soaked through, and fed me broken bits of cooked meat I scarfed down hungrily. He'd clothed me in his own, human clothes, dark jeans and a hoodie, and he cared for my every need with painstaking kindness. All while acting arrogant and egotistical, like a guy who knows exactly how attractive he is.

I had the worst savior imaginable.

I paced the backyard of his huge mansion, glaring furiously up at the sky. My wing stubs prickled with the desire to lift me to the clouds, where I belonged. I kicked at the ground in anger.

"Calm down, will you? I'm trying to get ready for work."

I turned. The boy, who had introduced himself as Sebastian, was shrugging on a black leather jacket and stuffing the many pockets with various forms of weaponry. He looked badass and wickedly cool doing so, which only made me angrier, with something akin to jealousy. "What kind of work uniform is that?"

He stared at me incredulously for a second, and then broke into a smile. "I thought you would've figured it out by now. I'm an assassin. I train under Aristor. Heard of him?"

Heard of him? It would be more surprising if I hadn't heard of him.

Back in his youth, or at least, in his late twenties, Aristor was a god. He was feared and revered and even worshipped in some places. He bore the reputation of the deadliest assassin in the entire world, matched only the mysterious figure in black who disappeared a while back. So yes, I had definitely heard of Aristor Shyring.

Sebastian ran a lazy hand through his infuriatingly perfect hair and looked up at the noon-day sky. "Okay, I have to go, Kace, but I'll be back later tonight, around ten. Aristor never comes home before me, so we should have some time to find somewhere for you to hide before he gets here."

I didn't acknowledge him, kicking at the ground with my painfully human feet.

Sebastian hesitated, his glass green eyes flicking to the side. "Try not to mess with the bandages and don't leave the house, okay? A Winged One on the ground is easy prey to people like- well, people like me."

I refused to say anything, and eventually he left, his stride languid and fluid with those long legs of his. I ran agitated hands through my dark red hair. He was about five inches taller than me, and those five inches infuriated me.

I went back inside the mansion once I was sure Sebastian was gone, and buried myself headfirst in the guest bed Sebastian had offered me. My wings were gone, I was trapped with a couple of people who killed for a living, and I had nowhere else to go. I had no idea what to do and how I was supposed to do it.

I looked up at the white ceiling that wasn't mine, in the house that wasn't mine, on the ground where I didn't belong.

And I decided something.

I had to escape.

~reapersaretheangels

We're really sorry we haven't been updating this at all. We've both been focusing on our own individual books on our accounts and haven't got around to discussing the continuation of this book.

We're jumping back in though, and we hope you will, too!

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