Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) by Andre Roberts Page B
Authors: Andre Roberts
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out naked and slippery wet, she realized the changes in her body, changes on a scale to rival a Michael Angelo’s sculpture.
Her breasts, still small, became firm and perky. She stretched her arms out before her and smiled at the hard muscles in her shoulders. Her stomach muscles rippled like a washboard, the stretch marks from her pregnancy with William no longer visible. She would miss her stretch marks, a sign she once carried a precious life inside her.
The angel ran her fingers over her diamond-chiseled abdomen. Her leg muscles hardened like a mountain climber and her butt broke its friendship with gravity.
Joan’s mind drifted to her husband’s family. Her adopted parents, long dead, left her with no immediate family to claim as her own. She planned to visit Charles’s parents, her last link to her man and son.
She walked through her home and stepped into the living room. For a few seconds she gazed at Charles and William framed in a picture. She lifted one up, gave the portrait a tender kiss, and returned the silver frame to the coffee table. Joan plucked her iPhone off the coffee table and approached the front door.
Joan opened the door to face a street packed with neighbors in different states. Some gawked at the cloudy skies in huddled groups while others cried. Most stuffed luggage and personal items into cars to flee their homes. She shook her head, closed the front door, and walked through the house and into the backyard.
She thought about her wings and before the thought slipped away, they hung on her back huge and beautiful. With a steady hand, she reached out to touch her left wing.
Her fingers played over the silk soft feathers. Amazement caused her eyes to glitter. She reached back with her right hand and caressed the elbow on her wing covered in white downy feathers.
Joan stretched her wings behind her and admired their strength. She flapped them twice and recalled her childhood. As a child, she would flap her arms like some magnificent bird and leap into the air to land a second later on the grass lost in sweet laughter. Her wings resembled a huge dove. Above her, the clouds sat low and fat with rain. Sunlight began to wink out in the sky.
The loamy dampness in the yard perfumed the air as a cool breeze brushed her face. She turned around to give her home a long gaze.
“Before you go.”
Joan’s wings fluttered, her stomach lurched. She spun around to face the archangel Michael. “What now?” Her breath came out ragged, and her heartbeat quickened from the archangel’s sudden appearance.
Michael tapped a forefinger against his full lips. “Follow me. I almost forgot one last thing.” He spread his powerful wings from behind him and took flight into the air. Dead leaves rustled in his wake, swept up in a tiny dust devil.
Joan admired Michael’s speed and power. Michael took to the air with a controlled burst and smoothness she wanted to master. Within seconds her golden armor covered her body. She deployed her wings. The gray skies packed with storm clouds thickened overhead as she moved her wings to loosen her muscles. She bent her knees, and gave her wings two hard flaps.
Her feet left the ground. She took flight with a powerful burst.
Joan sucked in breath as her body hurtled upwards. The world beneath her dropped away fast. Her house, her colorful rose bushes, her neighbors who stood outside their homes, all miniaturized. Her body jetted skyward like an uncontrolled bottle-rocket.
Up and up she went. Her jump off the Roaner Building’s roof involved an easy downward float. She drove her car home after her talk with Michael. This new method to get around excited her. She needed to stop her ascent and follow the archangel. In short, she needed to learn how to fly.
Joan slowed her speed. By the time she gained control, Georgia resembled a greenish brown carpet beneath her caligae-covered feet. The cool clouds sat just above her head. White
Her breasts, still small, became firm and perky. She stretched her arms out before her and smiled at the hard muscles in her shoulders. Her stomach muscles rippled like a washboard, the stretch marks from her pregnancy with William no longer visible. She would miss her stretch marks, a sign she once carried a precious life inside her.
The angel ran her fingers over her diamond-chiseled abdomen. Her leg muscles hardened like a mountain climber and her butt broke its friendship with gravity.
Joan’s mind drifted to her husband’s family. Her adopted parents, long dead, left her with no immediate family to claim as her own. She planned to visit Charles’s parents, her last link to her man and son.
She walked through her home and stepped into the living room. For a few seconds she gazed at Charles and William framed in a picture. She lifted one up, gave the portrait a tender kiss, and returned the silver frame to the coffee table. Joan plucked her iPhone off the coffee table and approached the front door.
Joan opened the door to face a street packed with neighbors in different states. Some gawked at the cloudy skies in huddled groups while others cried. Most stuffed luggage and personal items into cars to flee their homes. She shook her head, closed the front door, and walked through the house and into the backyard.
She thought about her wings and before the thought slipped away, they hung on her back huge and beautiful. With a steady hand, she reached out to touch her left wing.
Her fingers played over the silk soft feathers. Amazement caused her eyes to glitter. She reached back with her right hand and caressed the elbow on her wing covered in white downy feathers.
Joan stretched her wings behind her and admired their strength. She flapped them twice and recalled her childhood. As a child, she would flap her arms like some magnificent bird and leap into the air to land a second later on the grass lost in sweet laughter. Her wings resembled a huge dove. Above her, the clouds sat low and fat with rain. Sunlight began to wink out in the sky.
The loamy dampness in the yard perfumed the air as a cool breeze brushed her face. She turned around to give her home a long gaze.
“Before you go.”
Joan’s wings fluttered, her stomach lurched. She spun around to face the archangel Michael. “What now?” Her breath came out ragged, and her heartbeat quickened from the archangel’s sudden appearance.
Michael tapped a forefinger against his full lips. “Follow me. I almost forgot one last thing.” He spread his powerful wings from behind him and took flight into the air. Dead leaves rustled in his wake, swept up in a tiny dust devil.
Joan admired Michael’s speed and power. Michael took to the air with a controlled burst and smoothness she wanted to master. Within seconds her golden armor covered her body. She deployed her wings. The gray skies packed with storm clouds thickened overhead as she moved her wings to loosen her muscles. She bent her knees, and gave her wings two hard flaps.
Her feet left the ground. She took flight with a powerful burst.
Joan sucked in breath as her body hurtled upwards. The world beneath her dropped away fast. Her house, her colorful rose bushes, her neighbors who stood outside their homes, all miniaturized. Her body jetted skyward like an uncontrolled bottle-rocket.
Up and up she went. Her jump off the Roaner Building’s roof involved an easy downward float. She drove her car home after her talk with Michael. This new method to get around excited her. She needed to stop her ascent and follow the archangel. In short, she needed to learn how to fly.
Joan slowed her speed. By the time she gained control, Georgia resembled a greenish brown carpet beneath her caligae-covered feet. The cool clouds sat just above her head. White