This is the second freebie K. Piet and I are working on. Man, we do love our angels!
Cole groaned as he shifted on the floor, a beam of sunlight across his face. His back and head hurt, his muscles stiff. What the hell had happened? He slowly sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. Rob. Rob had brought him some coke. Had he overdosed? Or had he just passed out? If he’d overdosed, wouldn’t he be dead? Maybe he was dead and this was Heaven. Or Hell. He didn’t much like the idea of Hell being his apartment, which smelled of stale cigarettes and booze.
He looked around, noting the shattered whiskey bottle and the angel asleep beside—
Cole stared at the naked creature beside him with massive white wings. That was an angel. Angels weren’t real, though. He rubbed his eyes again, but when he opened them once more, the angel was still there. Maybe there had been something in the coke. Maybe Rob hadn’t gotten the good stuff after all. He reached out and ran his fingers along the feathers. Christ, he’d never felt anything so soft! The wing shivered under his touch, but the angel didn’t move.
It was real. The angel. Was real. Angel. In his apartment. Maybe that was why he wasn’t dead. He brushed the angel’s blond hair back from the perfect, beautiful face. Male. He had an unconscious, gorgeous, male angel sprawled on his office floor, and his mind didn’t quite believe it. Cole cleared his throat and gave the angel’s shoulder a little nudge.
“E-Excuse me,” Cole murmured, his voice rough. “Hello?” A pained flutter of a sound escaped the angel, and he hesitated to touch again. He didn’t see any wounds on the angel, but maybe his touch was a little too hard. He swallowed thickly and, as gently as possible, pet over the blond hair and the feathers. “Are you all right? Come on. Wake up.”
The wings shifted, and another of those bird-like sounds twittered from the angel, followed by a soft moan. Cole’s heart jumped up into his throat, and he scrambled back a little, dodging the feathers of one wing as it lifted and flapped. A sudden pain jolted up through his hand, and he cursed under his breath. He’d forgotten about the broken glass, and now he was paying for it. The cut wasn’t too terribly deep, but it stung like a motherfucker, and he cradled his hand against him.