FaRoFeb 2025 Micro Story 5
MONSTER ROMANCE
Part 1
by Mallory Dunlin
The graveyard was usually safe to cut through, even at night. Sure, it had its share of ghosts, but they were all the restful sort, happy to dwell in their consecrated beds. Tonight, though, Kate had been followed.
She’d spotted the two men on the street before ducking into the graveyard, hoping to shake them among the trees, but they were still there. One in a hoodie. One in a dark cap. Getting closer with each too-fast step.
As soon as she saw the doors of the old church, Kate bolted. Curses drifted on the icy air, but she was fast and they weren’t ready to run. She darted through the unlocked doors and into the sanctuary, flinging herself under the altar. They wouldn’t come in here, right? Please, God, don’t let them come in.
Golden light filled the room with a sound like thunder, streaming in under the altar cloth. In a voice like a church bell, a man boomed, “Be not afraid!”
Kate peeked out over the altar. That was a goddamn angel floating there, his six massive sapphire-blue wings spread. A riot of wavy black hair tumbled down over his bare shoulder to fall across his broad, bare chest. The only clothing he was wearing, in fact, was a white pleated linen skirt and golden gladiator-style sandals. And . . . were those seven flaming swords floating behind him?
“Who the fuck are you?” she said, too startled to remember church manners.
He blinked, a stately expression. “I am Ananiel, the Gate of the South Wind. Your guardian angel.”
Find Mallory Dunlin’s book at mallorydunlin.com.
Part 2
by Mel Braxton
She searched for a trick—stage lighting, mirrors, a wire—something, anything, to prove this was a joke. “Guardian angels aren’t real.”
“And yet,” he said, widening his arms as the flaming swords glowed brighter. “I am.”
The swords looked real and the heat they gave off most certainly was. Whatever he was, Ananiel was built far larger, much stronger than any man.
Moreover, he had wings. Six of them.
The church doors banged open before she could form a reply.
The two darkly clad men strode down the aisle, causing fear to trickle down her spine. She hadn’t seen them well before and definitely not clearly enough to notice the way their shadows didn’t follow their form.
Ananiel swept closer, pulling her into his arms and pressing her face into his bare chest. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
She obeyed. Wings rushed around her, and feathers brushed her cheek.
“Be gone, demons,” Ananiel bellowed.
Light flashed behind closed eyelids. Terror filled Kate as she clung to her guardian angel. Soon, she smelled ash.
When she dared to peer up at him again, she found his wings wrapped around them, shielding her in a cocoon of safety.
“Demons, in a church?” she asked, as if that was her biggest concern.
“They will continue to hunt you now,” he answered. “And I will stay by your side.”
“Why? What do they want with me?”
He didn’t explain, instead, clutching her tighter, as he strode out the front doors and into the midnight air.
Find Mel Braxton’s books at melbraxton.com.
Part 3
by Catrina Bell
With each sure step, his grip tightened. Strange but safe. Her fingers played over his collarbone. Angels and demons and . . . me?
Her palm heated as bright red cracks splintered across his skin. On a pained grunt, he halted, dropping her just as they reached the corner store. An old man watched them, his jaw hanging open.
“Oh, God. You have to change.” She rushed them around the side of the building.
“Not God.” He rubbed his chest. “Only Ananiel. Yours.”
Her cheeks warmed even as she pinched the bridge of her nose. This was . . . a lot. They were still blocks from her apartment and no one could miss the wings or swords or eight-pack abs. Ripping off her zip-up fleece, she shoved it toward him.
“Put this on.”
“You must stay protected.” He glared. “Does my glamour displeas—” His mouth snapped shut, and he blinked at her, one eye off cadence from the other. Huffing, he lifted the jacket like a shield between them.
Thunderous light and myrrh-scented fog swirled, but it was what she saw when she closed her eyes that shocked her. Spinning golden rings, a monstrous arching form, and fire-bright eyes. Dozens of them. She staggered back, stopped only by his brief, heated touch. Her eyes opened to find him in street clothes. Just a man, except not quite—overly tall, perfectly symmetrical features, and smooth skin that didn’t seem quite human.
“It’s cold out.” He slipped the fleece back on her, his voice a deep bass lullaby. “Keep the jacket, Kit.”
Kit, not Kate. A too-familiar nickname. He’s hiding something, her gut said, just as sharp shadows crept across the lamplit cobblestones, moving toward them. But he’s trustworthy.
Kate always trusted her gut.
“Let’s go.”
Find Catrina Bell’s books at www.catrinabell.com.
Part 4
by Vasilisa Drake
Her apartment was like her life—empty. No personal effects, no ties grounding her here.
Except now there was an angel in it. Even without wings, Ananiel filled the space, his very presence enveloping her.
“I need a drink.” She heaved a sigh and pulled open the cupboard. The angel was on her heels, his softly glowing orange eyes tracking her every move.
“You want one?” she offered, pulling two packets of cocoa. Welcome, strange man with magical powers. Come into my home. Would you like some hot chocolate? Was she stupid? Yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I will gratefully accept anything you give me.”
The rumble of words sent a tinge right inside her. She mixed their drinks, ignoring the flutter in her chest, and wished she’d run to the store for marshmallows.
“Of course, we must have marshmallows,” Ananiel murmured.
With a snap of his fingers, their mugs were filled with a hefty filling of homemade marshmallows. Just how she liked her cocoa. She took a drink, savoring the heat down her throat. “Can you read minds?”
“No. But I know you, Kit.”
Kit. That name again.
She stared at the angel, pieces falling into place. He was glorious and had a face unlike any she’d ever seen, perfect, without a single flaw. His black hair glistened in the dim light of the apartment, yet not a hair was out of place. He wasn’t of this world. She’d never seen him. Yet…
“I do know you. You left me.”
“I never left,” Ananiel countered.
Bullshit. She slammed her mug down.
Find Vasilisa Drake’s books at vasilisadrake.com.
Part 5
by Allegra Hall
Rage, greater than she’d ever felt before, coursed through her as it all came back, Ananiel’s presence unlocking that corner of her mind that had been hidden for so long. He knew her. He knew Kit. It wasn’t just a nickname, but her old name—or part of it, at least. He knew her from before, and he’d left with the others when she’d been cast out. She’d fallen, her wings torn from her, all the magic of the divine gone, leaving her alone. She was nothing but a simple human doomed to live out her meager, mortal days on Earth.
She’d been like Ananiel, once, and they’d taken everything from her.
“You left me,” she repeated, her voice small and broken. She couldn’t remember what it was that she’d done wrong to deserve this punishment, only the pain when she’d landed here.
All of Ananiel’s earlier bravado seemed to drain from him. “No,” he replied just as quietly. “I said I was your guardian angel. I’ve been here all along, Kit.”
She couldn’t handle being here with him. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He’d been her friend—and maybe something more—and he’d abandoned her, just like everyone else had.
The irony wasn’t lost on her that this was her apartment, yet she was the one leaving as she grabbed her keys and stormed out of there. He was hot on her heels once more, but she ignored him, even as he called her name.
Find Allegra Hall’s books at allegrahall.carrd.co.
Part 6
by Talia Greer
Back outside, Kate was disoriented to find her building’s exterior hallway no longer felt the same. The fluorescent lights shone too bright, almost off-kilter, like Ananiel’s revelation had unwoven the fabric of her world.
At the second floor landing, she paused, shaking hands gripping tight to the railing.
His voice boomed commanding and unmistakable from above.
“Kit, please,” he called down.
She didn’t look. “Leave me alone.”
Ananiel was an open wound in her mind. If he was meant to be keeping tabs on her, he’d done an absolute shit job. Years she’d spent alone, painfully bored in her mortal life, and he’d . . . what? He’d watched her suffer from the shadows, content to let her believe she was meant for this?
Some guardian angel he was.
His footsteps started down the stairs in her direction, so she ran.
Blind panic and a wounded instinct to flee sent her careening into the laundry room on the ground floor. Washers on the left, dryers on the right, and at the back, two squat vending machines. She didn’t bother with the lights. Often, when the world became too much, she came down here and wedged herself between the machines, where there was just enough space for a slight woman to sit knees-to-chest and contemplate where she’d gone wrong.
Ananiel entered with little fanfare and found her easily.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and to his credit, he at least sounded sincere.
Kate glared up at him. Light from the vending machines spilled across his perfect skin in odd reds and blues and yellows.
“I don’t believe you.” Ananiel flinched. Good—let him hurt for once. “You’re my guardian angel? Then prove it. Prove to me that you care.”
Find Talia Greer’s books at www.taliagreerbooks.com.
Part 7
by C.M. Nascosta
“Do you remember that time this room was closed?” Ananiel asked her, implored her.
It was her turn to flinch at the memory he invoked. During the week in question, the machines in the building were all undergoing maintenance at once, leaving the entire corridor full of parts and venting, off-limits to her and the other tenants.
“You ran out of clean clothes,” he prodded, earning her glare. “Do you remember that day? It rained overnight, and the streets were full of puddles. You had all your clothes stuffed in that backpack.”
“I remember,” Kate snapped as she wriggled out to stand in the dark, feeling out of breath at the memory of that day. She had been splashed by a car at the corner, had to endure the unwanted attentions of the strange man at the laundromat, and worst of all—there had been no dark, small space to crawl into.
“That car saw you standing there, and they didn’t even care when they hit that puddle.”
His voice was steady, and suddenly, right behind her, fingertips light on her shoulder. And then she did remember truly. The water had cascaded away, soaking a bench to her left, leaving her untouched. The stranger had sent her heart hammering in her throat, but just as suddenly as he’d seemed to set his attention on her, his feet had moved him across the room. She remembered watching how frustrated he’d looked, unable to move.
“That was you?” Kate spun, shivering at how close Ananiel was now. There had been a rainbow on her way home, making her smile for the first time in weeks. And that was him, too.
“I’ve always had my arms around you, Kit. You’ve never been alone.”
Sure enough, his arms folded around her when she stepped into them, the heat of his mouth so familiar, she knew he couldn’t be lying. An angel for a fallen angel. She didn’t know who’d made that assignment, but she sure wasn’t going to argue.
Find C.M. Nascosta’s books at cmnascosta.com.