Wings Of Seduction Access

He should have called security. Should have looked away. Instead, he set down his glass and walked to the edge of his own balcony, the rain slicking his hair to his forehead.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he called out, his voice steadier than he felt. Wings Of Seduction

She stood on the ledge of the building opposite, a silhouette against the holographic advertisements that flickered like artificial auroras. Her dress was a spill of liquid silver, and her hair moved in a wind that he could not feel. But it was her wings that stopped his heart—not feathered, not angelic, but woven from living shadow and fractured light, like shards of a broken galaxy held in bone and sinew. He should have called security

Up close, she smelled of ozone and forgotten prayers. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he called