Let Me Fly (Wild Wings Book 1) Read online

  Let Me Fly

  Wild Wings Book One

  A.C. Pontone

  Translated and edited by

  Annie Crawford

  Copyright © 2021 Angela Camilla Pontone

  Translation copyright © 2021 Anne Crawford

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Written by Angela Camilla Pontone

  Translated by Anne Crawford

  Edited by Anne Crawford

  Published by Angela Camilla Pontone

  Cover Design by Cat Cover Design

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Belle

  2. Belle

  3. Belle

  4. Belle

  5. Belle

  6. Belle

  7. Belle

  8. Belle

  9. Belle

  10. Belle

  11. Belle

  12. Belle

  13. Belle

  14. Andrew

  15. Belle

  16. Belle

  17. Killian

  18. Belle

  19. Belle

  20. Belle

  21. Jason

  22. Belle

  23. Belle

  24. Belle

  25. Alex

  26. Belle

  27. Belle

  28. Justin

  29. Belle

  30. Tyler

  31. Belle

  32. Eric

  Flames Of Truth

  Never miss another A.C. Pontone Release

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Introduction

  My name is Isabelle Dark, and my life sucks. In exactly ten days, four hours, fifty-seven minutes, and fifteen seconds, I will cease to exist.

  Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but what would you say if you were being forced to marry a man you despise?

  Exactly. I have to find a way to escape.

  Up to now I’ve spent my life in hiding. There aren't any other options for those like me: I'm a Nephilim, a half-breed. The only choice I have is whether to be killed by the Shadows or to remain here, hidden among the Hollows.

  So I made my decision: I would rather risk my life fighting to be free than continue to struggle to survive in the home I grew up in.

  My plan was to go to college and live a normal life, but somehow I ended up in a school for Shadows where everyone hates me. Plus, I’ve been assigned seven angels as my bodyguards. Jailers would be a more appropriate word.

  The tension growing between us is impossible to deny. Sparks are starting to fly. They're beginning to get under my skin and . . .

  What do I do now?

  My name is Isabelle Dark. I'm a Nephilim and I'm screwed.

  Warning: This book is a full-length reverse-harem romance. It contains adult themes, MM scenes, foul language and some violence. If, however, you’re in the market for a novel full of sexy angels and a hot-blooded main character, you’ve found your next read.

  Let Me Fly is the first book in the Wild Wings series and cannot be read as a standalone.

  Intended for 18+ readers.

  To Mattia,

  you’ll always be alive in my heart.

  I love you.

  1

  Belle

  My name is Isabelle Dark and my life sucks. In exactly ten days, four hours, fifty-seven minutes, and fifteen seconds, I will cease to exist.

  Why do I say this? Well, all you need to know is that I’ve been forced to live in the shadows. I have to struggle to survive in my own home. There’s no other choice for someone like me. I’m a half-breed, which means that my only alternatives are to be killed by the Shadows or stay hidden here, among the Hollows. As I said, it sucks!

  I shake my head as a hysterical laugh forces its way out of my throat. I can tell the woman behind me is frowning, her mouth tightly closed, her lips pressed together. “Stay still,” she orders me. “Hold your breath and suck your belly in!”

  My jaw goes rigid, but I remain silent.

  “Don’t make that face!” she mutters. “You need to eat less. You’re not thin enough!”

  Fuck you, I think, as my hands ball into fists and I try to keep myself from punching her in the face. I hate her. I hate everything about her. I hate her pointy nose, her high cheekbones, her oval face, her gray eyes that have no spark of light in them, her brown hair that’s always pulled back in a perfect chignon. I hate her long skirt and dumb white shirt buttoned up so tightly under er chin. I don’t understand how she doesn’t choke. Why can’t she choke?

  With a sigh I regard the image in the mirror again. Who are you? I struggle to hold back the tears. I don’t want to cry, not while the woman is looking at me.

  She yanks the laces of my dress even tighter, so tight I can barely breathe. Who are you? I ask my reflection again. The person in the mirror is a stranger. She’s not wearing my usual outfit of ripped jeans and a man’s T-shirt. Her blond hair frames her face, falling in soft waves on the lace bodice of the dress, which is peekaboo, with visible stays. It extends to her hips, emphasizing her narrow waist. The full, soft skirt falls to her feet. The pure white of the dress blends in with the white skin of the girl in the mirror.

  I heave a sigh, and the sad blue eyes in the glass regard me. They’re alien to me, but somehow terribly familiar at the same time.

  Who are you?

  “Edward certainly won’t want a fat wife!” The bitch tightens the ribbons of the bodice even more. I’m suffocating.

  “Fuck you,” I mutter, this time audibly. I want her to hear. She ignores me as she continues to fit me with my wedding dress. There are now only ten days, four hours, fifty minutes, and thirty seconds remaining until I say I do.

  But it’s not going to happen. Less than three hours from now I’m going to escape. I have to, if I want to survive—or at least die free. What will become of me when I leave this damned prison, though? What will become of you? I silently ask the girl reflected in the mirror.

  I don’t recognize myself anymore. I don’t know who I am, or what I want. Wait, that’s not true; I know exactly what I want. I want to tear off this fucking dress and run for my life. I want to be nineteen. I want to go dancing, to eat whatever I want. I want to go to college. I want to meet a boy who makes my heart beat so hard it almost jumps out of my chest. I want it to beat so hard I can hear it beating. I want to fall in love. And damn it, I want to have sex!

  Basically, I want everything I’ve never had.

  The bitch behind me looks at me in the mirror. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s cold, cruel, and sadistic, just like everyone else who lives in this house. She’s my guardian, the woman who took charge of me when I was five, and I hate her guts.

  “Wipe that frown off your face! You’re going to get wrinkles.”

  “Fuck you, Claire! I don’t give a shit what Edward thinks of me.”

  I feel the shock of her hand against the skin of my cheek before the pain hits me. Stupid bitch, she loves to slap me.

  “Bitch,” I mutter.

  Claire laughs. “You’re nothing but a silly, ungrateful little girl, but I
’m quite sure your future husband will manage to keep you in line.”

  I clench my fists so hard my nails bite into my flesh. Pain is an old friend of mine; it helps me banish the tears when they threaten to take over. I can’t cry. I don’t want to marry Edward, though. I don’t want to be a wife at nineteen!

  It’s wrong. It’s all so fucking wrong. Anywhere else in the world, a father would do everything in his power to keep his own daughter from getting married so young. He would be telling her to wait, to live a little before tying herself to someone. He would tell her to go out and make mistakes, fall in love, become whoever she wanted to be.

  But that sort of thing happens in other places, not here.

  Here I live with angels, and angels are not like men. My stepdad won’t tell me to go forth and live my life, but he will sell me to Edward as a bargaining chip. I bet you think angels are splendid celestial creatures who protect people and watch over them, right? Well, if that’s what you think, you couldn’t be more wrong. They’re bloodthirsty bastards at war with each other. They got stuck on Earth because an egocentric Archangel named Gabriel decided to close the doors of paradise to them. And since they’re assholes, not to mention not very interesting feathered creatures, they enjoy nothing more than messing with humans’ minds.

  This leads, at times, to the relationship between a human and an angel becoming more . . . intimate. The usual result of that is—wham!—the birth of a new half-breed. These half-breeds are called Nephilim. They’re cruel –or that’s what the Shadows say—and are killed on sight. It makes no difference that you haven’t done anything wrong, if your blood isn’t pure, poof! You disappear into thin air.

  In the past, some angels rebelled against this system since, understandably, they didn’t want to watch their children die. Sam, my adoptive father, was the first of those angels to rebel. He created the Hollows and began to fight against Gabriel and his Shadows. He took in the Nephilim like me and hid them from the wrath of the Archangel.

  Being a half-breed sucks, for sure, but there’s not much I can do about it. If I want to survive, I need to stay in this house, but if I want to keep living, I’ve got to get out of here. My life is a real mess! I thought my captivity was temporary and that at some point I could leave this damn house. I was stupid.

  With a sigh, I let myself drift into a reverie, remembering what happened only four days ago . . .

  A ding on my computer alerts me to a new email coming in. I click on it. At the first glimpse of the sender’s name, a powerful adrenaline rush shoots through my body. I’ve hoped so much for this reply . . .

  Dear Isabelle Dark,

  It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that your application for admission to Umbra College has been accepted. Please accept my congratulations. I welcome you to the Umbra family.

  We are also pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to receive the Umbra College Scholarship for the 2020-2021 academic year. This prestigious award will cover your lodging, books, college tuition, and fees as long as you maintain a grade point average of 4.0 during both semesters . . .

  I have to read the email over and over to be sure I haven’t misunderstood it. I did it! I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry with joy. I did it! I close my email and turn off the computer. Taking one deep breath after another, I clench my fists and try to find the courage to go through with what I’m about to do.

  Leaving my room, I walk down the corridor to Sam’s studio, where I knock and wait for an answer. “Come in!” I hear from inside.

  Pushing down on the handle, I open the door, which creaks ominously. “I want to go to college, Sam,” I say, all in one breath.

  He regards me, an amused expression on his face, then gets up from his chair, walks around the desk, and stands in front of me. “My child,” he sighs. “You know that the world out there isn’t a safe place for you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re too important to us.”

  He’s never told me that I’m important to him, only ever to “us.” Still, I believe that he loves me in his own way. He treats me like a princess. All my clothes are designer and I can have whatever I want, things a normal teenager of my age would die for. But it’s not enough for me. There’s something missing in my life and I don’t know what it is.

  “Please, Sam?” I beg.

  Out of nowhere, he slaps me across the face. “Stop whining!” he snaps. I hate it when he treats me like a stupid, sniveling little girl. I’m an adult now and it’s my future we’re talking about!

  I’ve never had any of the experiences a normal girl has. I’ve never gone to school, never even had the chance to talk to someone else my age. Never gone to a prom or a party. I’ve always been homeschooled. Sam got me a private tutor and that’s how I got my high school diploma. I graduated with a 4.0 average. I could go to any university, but I only applied to Umbra College. I thought that going to the same college my parents went to, the place they met and fell in love, could maybe fill the emptiness inside me.

  I remember my mom holding my hand as we walked across the campus. My dad’s office was on the top floor of a huge red-brick building. He was the dean of the university. I can still see his big mahogany desk in my mind’s eye and feel the sensation of his kiss on my forehead.

  Those are the only good memories I have, though. I don’t recall much else about my past, just bad feelings when I try to think about it. Yet in my heart I know that before I came to the Fortress things were different. There were no lashings with the whip, no punishments, no beatings. I felt safe, protected, and loved. I miss that life, even if maybe it wasn’t real, even if maybe I never truly had a past as full of love as I imagine it.

  Sam’s voice abruptly drags me back to reality. “You don’t need to go to college or find a job. Edward will provide for all your needs in the future.”

  I try to process what he’s just said, but I can’t for some reason. “I don’t understand,” I murmur.

  “In exactly two weeks, you’ll join him and you’ll be happy.”

  “Sam, I’m begging you!”

  He sighs. “Isabelle,” he says, “do you realize how fortunate you are? You should be grateful that Edward has become so fond of you that he’s willing to accept you with your condition and make you his wife. You’re useless, but even so . . .” His voice trails off. He wants me to believe Edward is acting out of love, but I know that’s not the case. This isn’t love. I shake my head, but keep my mouth closed. Clenching my fists, I turn and leave the room just in time before the tears start to roll down my cheeks.

  Sam’s right about one thing. I’m useless. I’m a Nephilim, weak and barren. I’ll never be able to produce beautiful little angels. I won’t be able to save my race from extinction. Not that I necessarily want kids or anything, it’s just that sometimes I wish I could rid myself of this feeling of inadequacy. I just want . . . fuck it, I don’t even know what I want. To be loved in spite of all my imperfections? But I know that in this house, there will never be room for that kind of love.

  Here all I am is a broken toy.

  The sound of the bolt being drawn back distracts me from my memories. The door opens with a creak and two guards appear in the doorway of my bedroom. I grit my teeth. No! I beg you, not again!

  “You need to come with us.” No hello, of course.

  Both of them are dressed in black cargo pants and thermal T-shirts. Each wears a gun belt and a holster with a revolver in it. I’m sure they’ve got lots of other weapons as well, hidden around their bodies, but I’m not going to take the time to look for them.

  All of Sam’s guards wear the same uniform and are pretty much clones of each other. They’re all tall, at least 6’2”. They’ve all got chiseled, muscular physiques, short hair, and the same expression on their faces: a permanent frown. Their eyes are always pointed straight ahead, their lips tightly closed in a line. Do they never laugh? I wonder.

  With a snort, I turn toward the bitch that’s my guardian.
“Take this thing off me,” I order her, indicating the white dress I’ve got on.

  Claire curls her lip and narrows her eyes. The look on her face shouts just wait until we’re alone. I’ll make you pay for your insolence. With two angels in the room with us, though, she knows perfectly well that she can’t do anything to me. She’s just a human, after all. The only reason she’s still here is that she managed to get herself pregnant with Sam’s child and gave birth to my soon-to-be husband. Yes, you heard right, the bitch standing next to me is my future mother-in-law. She’s also the one that “took care of me” after my mom died. Take Lady Tremaine, Cinderella’s evil stepmother, and add the vanity of Grimhilde, the evil queen in Snow White, the cruelty of Maleficent, and the craziness of Cruella de Vil and you’ve got Claire.

  Long story short, if my future hubby is a bona fide asshole, my future mother-in-law is a total bitch. And Sam has the nerve to say I’m lucky! Don’t you believe it.

  The bitch doesn’t say a word as she loosens the ribbons on my bodice until at last I can breathe again. The dress slides off my body and settles on the floor around me like a cloud. From the corner of my eye I can see the guards looking at me. They don’t even have the decency to turn around. I heave a sigh. At least I’ve got underwear and a knee-length petticoat on. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the bed, I slide them on.