LOGINA world of demons and angels has been at war for a thousand years. From this war came the walls around cities, the division between races, the abandonment of their gods, and the disappearance of magic. And, as it seemed for the demons, the need for the perfect demonic child. Eighteen years ago, that child seemed to have been born to one of the king's closest lords. She was dark as night with fiery eyes and a wild personality to match. She looked to be perfect. That is, until they saw her wings. All demon wings were scaled, but hers were feathered. And they hated her for it. She was named Angelica, for her angelic wings. She was not allowed to leave her home, was banned from fighting back against the abusive people around her, was not even allowed to decide who she was to spend the rest of her life with. One day, when she is eighteen years old, she decided she'd had enough of it, and she risked her life in running. But what happens when she realizes she isn't the only wrong winged out there? First book in the Wrong Winged Series
View MoreThey wandered into the forest for about five minutes before Damon stopped before the tallest tree in the forest. Angelica stood before the tree, staring up at it, trying to find the top. Suddenly, it didn't seem so easy. In fact, it seemed next to impossible. "It's about two hundred and twenty feet tall," Damon told her. She slowly turned her gaze to him. She gave him a look that was a mix of disappointment and annoyance. He had the audacity to laugh at her for it. She gritted her teeth. "I tell you that I have never once climbed a tree, and you decide that I need to climb the tallest tree in the whole forest," Angelica questioned. He nodded. She narrowed her eyes at him in what she hoped was a threatening glare. He walked passed her and said t
Angelica had lost track of time. Badly. She ended up falling asleep in the field and woke to Damon standing over her, concerned. "What are you doing?" Damon asked, his tone hinting at his concern. "Good question," Angelica replied, rubbing at the back of her neck. As she sat up, a flower crown fell off of her abdomen and into a pile of a few others. She blinked, trying to remember when she'd made so many. Then it occurred to her that she was in the middle of a field, and had fallen asleep there while making them. "Huh," she said, looking at the pile, "How long was I out here?" "I have no idea," Damon replied and questioned, "What are those?"
Damon came to get her at sundown, seeing as she never went back to the hideout. When he arrived, he stood silently by a tree a few paces away from her, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. She just got up and followed him back, a half finished flower crown in hand. Neither spoke a word to each other until the next morning, at breakfast. "Sorry," Damon mumbled eventually, breaking the silence. Angelica to pause her eating. She looked up, a bit shocked. He had his head lowered and was looking up at her, searching her face for some sort of response. She gave him a small smile to show she heard him. He then dropped his gaze and let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, too, for getting mad in the first place. I was overreacting a bit," Angelica said.  
The break was brief, lasting only fifteen minutes. He had her stretch again, then set her back to running. She had to jog her way back on the last lap, but she finished her assignment. He had to help her back to the hide out, her arm slung over his shoulders as she limped along. But, they made it back to the hideout, and he fulfilled his promise on lunch. Well, he tried. She made the situation much more difficult than it had needed to be. "After you eat, we'll be heading back out again," Damon stated as he turned the meat over for the first time. She frowned, but did not protest. She didn't have the energy to. He looked back at her, shocked, "You're really not going to complain?" "I'm too tire