HE WAS AN ANGEL [1]

AN ANGEL LOCKED AWAY

They found him in a forest, in a coma. His six abyss black wings spread around him like feathery rugs, his shoulder length hair around his head like a halo of gold and honey blonde, his skin glowing slightly in the sunlight. They felt it in their souls, the bond to this creature, but they felt disgust and fear and terror and confusion, because this was a man that they felt the bond connected to.

And he was a man. The perfect man from all those books on male physique, and anatomy. Their mate was a man. They couldn't believe it, they just couldn't accept it. They weren't homosexuals, they liked women and their gentle curves, their petite bodies and their flawless skin, with long, flowing hair, delicate faces and soft, cheerful voices. Not the tall, muscled forms of men whose hands were rough from ages of hard labor, whose beards were rough and whose hair was short and whose voices were deep and rough.

Their angel was a canvas of scars, muscle and pain. His face was clean-cut, his body seemingly hairless, but the moment they touched him, when his eyes opened, they saw the eyes of silver, like that of mercury. His voice was deep, smooth and otherwordly, his accent ancient and old, worn down with a tingle of negative emotion that turned his voice just an octave lower, which shook the very souls of the three vampire kings.

They locked their angel within the higest tower of the Volturi Castle, closed him within the tall cell, with windows barred, a large bed against the wall, with chains and shackles on the stone walls, and they stuck him in the shackles, put a metal collar around his neck, and then they left him there. An angel cursed by God to an eternity of suffering in a cell, with three men as mates whose belief was that of love between only a man and a woman being pure, and true.

THE KINGS LOCKED THEIR ANGEL IN THE HIGH TOWER, AND WATCHED THE ANGEL'S SORROW GROW AND FESTER, AND THEY WAITED.